Stephen raised his hand. ‘I don’t mean he’s indefensible. I’m not that sort of a lawyer. And, I’m his father.’

‘You can do something about this.’ I waved the printout of Goth Chat comments at him. ‘This discussion. Penelope as good as says he’s protecting someone else. Isn’t that an alibi?’

‘If we can get him to admit he’s Onyx and if this is true. Whatever it is.’

‘We have to do something! Have you searched for him on Facebook? Found the hate pages? Do you know how bad they are?’

I’d printed out the Facebook pages too. Stephen read them. His whiskers looked darker, like they did when the skin behind them turned white. ‘The law hasn’t kept up with the internet,’ he observed, frustratingly analytical.

‘You have to stop them! You said Sadie Riley could be arrested if she took her accusations too far.’

‘She could, if she published them. These comments are from private people.’

‘They say he should be burned at the stake. They give my address. It can’t be legal.’

Stephen’s top lip curled like it did when people had interests less important than the law. ‘It isn’t legal…’

‘Then make it stop!’

‘Phoebe, it isn’t legal but there’s no simple way to stop them.’

I sank into his sofa, defeated. ‘It’s like an angry mob is coming and you won’t do anything to help.’

‘You’re not rational.’ But he sat beside me. ‘Phoebe, I know it’s hard. In a way it’s better now he’s been arrested.’

‘Better?’

‘This Pastel girl is right. The matter is sub judice now. The press aren’t as free to comment.’

I lowered my face into my hands, felt my pulse behind my eyes. ‘If Caleb goes to trial, there’ll be a jury. People will have seen this. It won’t ever stop following him.’

‘I’ll do what I can to make sure that’s not the case. You have to be patient, Phoebe. This isn’t easy on us, either.’

‘Us?’ I repeated, an unpleasant realisation dawning on me.

‘Ivy is having a tough time. She had a nasty experience in her hair salon.’

‘What?’

‘She had her hair covered in dye when she overheard a conversation. She couldn’t leave. Her hairdresser said Caleb should be burned at the stake. Another customer said, don’t waste the firewood.’

Was I expected to care about Ivy? I hated Stephen. I shouldn’t have come.

‘She says the baby should have her surname. It’s hard to hear. I’ve always been proud of my family.’

‘So your mum used to say,’ I said, ironically.

Stephen gave me a hurt look. ‘I’ve always known I was a Wharton from Brunton.’

‘You’ve hardly been to Brunton in years.’

‘I used to go there, before…’