Margot’s head is reeling as she tries to process all this new information. Now the police know about Heather’s involvement in Keith’s accident she’s sure it won’t be long before the papers sniff out the story, and she knows they’ll go to town. But can she bring herself to call Jessica? She’d given Margot her business card again yesterday, after Margot was forced to admit she’d ripped up the last one. If she doesn’t talk to a journalist soon, one of them will go ahead and print something without her consent.

She sits up, leaning forward to get a better view from the window. There’s definitely someone out there. She’s sure it’s the same pest who was here this morning. Honestly, they’re like horseflies: you get rid of one and another pops up in their place. This morning’s had been a solitary man, who looked a bit worse for wear, with a three-day-old beard and his hair flattened by the rain. He’d stood at the gate, staring up at the house. When she’d driven past on the way to see Heather she’d wound her window down and told him there was no point in him waiting there: she’d agreed to do an exclusive with another newspaper. He’d opened his mouth, to convince her or to swear at her, she couldn’t be sure which, but she’d driven sharply away before he could speak, gratified to see that her wheels had sprayed mud over the bottom of his trousers.

Adam will be in soon, she tells herself, and she’ll send him out to get rid of the journalist. She stands up so he can see her. He’s illuminated by a lamppost, a fine rain falling on the hood of his parka. ‘Bugger off!’ she shouts, gesticulating, although she knows he can’t hear her. He bows his head, almost as if he’s apologizing, then turns around and gets into a car parked further down the lane.

Before Margot can change her mind she picks up her phone from the coffee table and taps out Jessica’s number. She knows Adam won’t approve of what she’s about to do: he’d tried to talk her out of it last night. But Jessica’s words have eaten away at her, like maggots on meat, and she can’t ignore them any longer. She can’t have faceless journalists digging away at her past.

Who knows what else they’ll unearth?

Adam flashes into her mind.