‘Is Heather home?’ she asked, taking a seat on the barstool in the kitchen.

‘Yes, but she’s sleeping. We’d better keep our voices down.’

Rachel looked at her watch. ‘Still sleeping at nine o’clock?’

He looked at her quizzically. ‘It’s Sunday morning, Rachel. Some people like to have a lie-in.’

‘Not you,’ she said, pointing to the jogging outfit Dad was wearing.

‘No, not me.’ He sighed, falling onto the stool beside her. ‘So . . . what’s up?’

‘What’s up,’ she said, ‘is that I wanted to talk to you about Fiona Arthur.’

There was that flicker of recognition again. ‘Rachel, I told you –’

‘– that you didn’t know who she was, I know. But I met Fiona yesterday and she said she used to be married to you.’

The look on her father’s face was surprisingly rewarding. Annoyed, but also cornered. ‘You met Fiona?’

‘That’s all you’re going to say? Not, Sorry I lied to you? Not, Rachel, I can explain?’

He massaged his temples. ‘I wasn’t aware I had to share every aspect of my life with you, Rachel.’

She stared at him. ‘You don’t. But I’m not sure why you would lie to me when I asked you a direct question.’

‘I’m sorry. It’s a part of my life that I intended to keep private, that’s all. I didn’t know how important it was to you.’

‘It’s only important because her name was written on a piece of paper inside that hot-water bottle of Mum’s,’ she cried. ‘I’ve been trying to work out why Mum was saving all this money, and you had an essential piece of the puzzle and didn’t tell me.’

Dad had the decency to look contrite. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Where did you find Fiona?’

‘On Facebook.’

‘Of course on Facebook.’ He sighed. ‘Rachel, I really wish you hadn’t reached out to her.’

‘I wish you had told me that she used to be your wife!’

‘It’s complicated, okay? Believe me, I had a good reason to keep it to myself.’

‘She said you abused her.’

Dad gaped. ‘She said I abused her?’

Rachel thought back to the language Fiona had used. ‘She said you hurt her,’ she corrected.

Dad rose from his stool. ‘And you took that to mean I abused her?’

Irritatingly, this caused Rachel to falter. ‘Well . . . how else would I take it?’

Dad looked positively stricken. He stood up and walked over to the kettle as if to switch it on, but then turned and walked back to her. ‘Do you really think that of me? That I could abuse someone? Your mother?’

‘I don’t. But . . .’

‘I don’t know what is going on in this family. It’s like no one knows me at all.’

‘What does that mean?’ Rachel said.

Dad stared into space for a moment. It was uncomfortable, seeing him like this. Normally Dad was calm, in charge, in control. It had shaken him, having her question him like this. But after a few moments, he appeared to make a decision. He returned to the barstool beside her. ‘I did hurt Fiona, all right? We were married for three years. We tried for a baby the entire time but she just couldn’t fall pregnant. She was older than me, and her time was running out. We’d been starting to look into other options when I met your mother.’