‘You. The way you were back then. You were obsessed with Flora, Margot and Heather. You couldn’t keep away. They might as well have adopted you.’

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. Was it that obvious? My need for them then? I’d thought I’d hidden a lot from them, like how often I was on my own, how occasionally Mum wouldn’t even come home at all, preferring to stay over at her new boyfriend’s house, or have a drink with a friend, leaving me alone for a few days. But then, at other times, she’d want to spend all Sunday with me, curled up on the sofa watching old black-and-white films on TV and eating chocolate. Those were some of my favourite times, just the two of us. ‘It’s not like that. Not now.’ I don’t need anyone now, I add silently. I rely on myself.

Leo takes a sip of his tea, regarding me over the rim of his cup. I stir my frothy latte and try to avoid eye contact. This isn’t playing out as I’d hoped.

I take a deep breath and start again. ‘Do you think Heather did it? The shootings, I mean. There’s another set of fingerprints on the gun. It could have been someone else.’

‘Like who?’

‘I don’t know.’

Leo puts his cup down. ‘Listen, Jess. You seem like a nice woman. But our family, we have our demons. If I were you I’d keep out of it.’

‘Every family has their demons.’

‘Not like ours.’

I decide to change the subject. ‘Do you ever go back to Tilby?’

He shakes his mop of shaggy hair. ‘I haven’t been back in years. Couldn’t wait to leave the place. I moved to Bristol. Somewhere more anonymous. Started over.’

‘What do you do now? For work, I mean?’

His body relaxes and he’s clearly relieved to be talking about something else. ‘I work for a car dealership. It suits me. I miss the outdoors but I couldn’t ever go back to Tilby.’ His expression darkens again and he says quietly, ‘My life was ruined after Flora went missing. The rumours destroyed me. Do you …’ he gulps and glances down at the floral oilcloth on the table ‘… do you know what it’s like to be looked upon as a monster? A pervert? I know I’m not a saint but Flora … She was my niece, for fuck’s sake.’ His face flushes with anger.

‘I can’t imagine.’

‘I hate the fucking place now.’

‘I’m sorry for bringing it all up again.’