And in that moment warmth engulfs Margot, like she’s just downed a glass of brandy. She’d hoped and prayed for this moment so many times over the years that she’s lost count. But here they are at last: she and her two precious daughters. All under one roof for the first time in eighteen years. Safe.

Then Heather pokes her head around the curtain and calls Margot over. She stands up, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach instantly dispelling her happiness of a moment before.

When she reaches the cubicle Heather pulls her in and indicates for her to sit on Flora’s bed.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she whispers, dread swirling in her stomach. Although she thinks she knows what they’re going to say.

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Mum looks at me with such fear in her eyes that it breaks my heart. After everything I’ve put her through all these years and the not-knowing what really happened to me. It’s aged her. I can tell her the truth now. I can finally see a bit more clearly now the drugs are leaving my body, and I can put things right. At last.

I try to prop myself up on my elbows, but they tremble with the effort. I feel so weak. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum,’ I say, my head falling against the pillow and cradling her warm, comforting hand. ‘But you need to hear the truth. It wasn’t Heather.’ I glance across at you sitting with your head bowed. You have tears on your cheeks. I was terrified I’d killed you in the barn that terrible morning. I’m so grateful that you’re alive and here with me now. I turn my attention back to Mum and squeeze her hand gently. ‘She didn’t shoot the Wilsons. It was my fault. I was the one who killed them.’

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Jess