“It didn’t seem relevant,” Sarah shrugged. “And I didn’t want you to pity me.”

“I would never pity you,” Veronica said meaningfully. “But I am sorry. I know how much you loved Eliza. She was, she was—”

“It’s my turn,” said Sarah.

Veronica’s eyes narrowed now, and without thinking she took another sip from her glass.

Sarah’s heart raced. The sedatives should kick in soon. She was doing this. She was actually doing this. She sat up and crossed her legs around themselves. “Okay, next question. Did you actually ever fancy that boy, Adam, at Eliza’s party, or were you just doing it to get closer to Eliza, to take her away from me?”

“What? Sarah, that was twenty years ago.”

“You did take her away from me, you know. Then. You did it on purpose. And later.”

“Are you serious?” Veronica pulled her damp hair off her shoulders and twisted it into a bun.

“Not an answer. Drink,” instructed Sarah.

Again Veronica drank, but now Sarah could see her mind working, her guard going up, the open warmth of the previous hour altering.

“For the record, I did fancy him,” she said. “I think I did anyway, kind of. I don’t really remember. At least I fancied him more than some others, later.”

To her irritation, Sarah found herself intrigued by this last reference of unhappy coupling and she wanted to ask more, but she refused to break from her plan, her perimeters, and said nothing. Instead, she watched Veronica take a slow, collecting breath.

“Okay,” said Veronica finally. “Here’s something I want to know: you said you have some bad memories of us. Why?”

Sarah noticed that Veronica’s words were beginning to slur, only slightly but they were definitely loosening a little, losing their pristine marbled sheen. It wouldn’t take long now. “Because of what you did to me,” said Sarah. “Obviously.”

Veronica shook her head. “What I did to you?”

“Oh no, it’s my turn,” said Sarah. “If you want to ask more, that’ll cost you another drink.”

Defiantly, Veronica drank. A deep, bold sip. “What did I do to you?” she repeated. There was an attempt at assertion in the way she said this, but her eyelids closed for a little too long and she had to employ great effort to snap them open again. Half a glass in and at last she was beginning to unravel. Flopping backwards drowsily against the high back of the sofa, she tried again. “What did I do?”

“Do you seriously not remember?”

“What?” slurred Veronica. “Remember what?”

“The pool house?”

“Yes?”

“Locking me in it?”

“What? I mean, what?” It was too late now for a lucid answer. The sedatives had rapidly started their work. Still, Veronica raised her chin towards the ceiling and closed her eyes, either in thought, or sleep, or a pretence of one or the other.

Sarah took out her phone and fondled it in her hand.

“I locked you in?” The words slid heavily from Veronica’s lips.