She had turned her face away from her mother and Margot suspected she was crying. ‘This is all just a nightmare.’ She sniffed. ‘That solicitor you employed came to see me yesterday and was asking all sorts of questions. Do you really think I’ll end up having to go to court?’

Of course you will, Margot had wanted to say. As soon as the police are able to interview you, you’ll be charged. I have no doubt. But she can’t tell Heather the truth. Not now.

‘Listen, love. The police called. There’s been some news.’

Heather had turned her tearstained face back to Margot. ‘What news?’ Her eyes were hopeful and Margot’s heart sank. Not good news, she wanted to say.

‘The man who – who the police think you shot, Clive Wilson, well, a body has been found in the basement of his house. A body that’s been there a long time. They think …’ She’d gulped. It never got easier to say it. ‘They think it’s Flora.’

Heather’s mouth hung open and her eyes grew large and round. ‘What? No. No, that can’t be right.’

‘The police will have a motive now. They’ll think you found out somehow and killed him. And his mother.’

Heather shook her head. ‘But, no, that’s … That can’t be. It’s not Flora.’

‘There’s a strong likelihood it is,’ said Margot, gently. Why else did you kill Clive and Deirdre Wilson? she had added silently. She took Heather’s hand. ‘Listen, the solicitor I instructed – Louisa Milligan – said there’s enough evidence to suggest you could be charged with manslaughter on account of diminished responsibility or …’

Heather squeezed Margot’s hand so tightly that it hurt. ‘Ow,’ she said, snatching it back. There were three half-moon indents where Heather had dug her nails into the flesh.

‘I’m sorry but, Mum, you’re not listening to me. I didn’t kill Clive. I’ve never met him. Yes, Adam spoke to him about getting us a puppy. But – and I know I can’t remember that morning, what I’m supposed to have done – but why would I kill him? Surely if I found out he’d killed Flora I’d remember something as huge as that … wouldn’t I?’ She tailed off, confusion written all over her face.

‘You know what the doctors said. A traumatic incident can sometimes cause temporary amnesia. The brain is protecting you from remembering something so horrific. It could have blocked out the fact that you knew Clive killed Flora.’

‘No. It’s not Flora. It’s not! It’s not!’ Heather began to thrash her arms about and Margot was worried she’d pull out her drip.