She feels Nevis tense. So, he has worked it out. Done the maths. Well, he is a mathematician. She supposes it’s more surprising in a way that he never found out before, wasn’t curious or just didn’t want to know. Nevis’s soft sobs creep into every corner of her being.

She says, ‘It’ll be all right, darling, I promise.’ This is not how Honor wanted her daughter to find out, not something she ever wanted her to know. He will pay for this too. Taking a step closer to him, she says, ‘Turn and face me and keep your hands where I can see them.’

He hops about, unsteady on his one good leg, and stares at her, his face growing dark and waxy as if he were already slipping into death.

Tilting his head in Nevis’s direction, he says, ‘Why did you never tell her?’

‘Because she didn’t need to know.’

The ticking of the ’copter blades, a thickening throb in the ear.

She watches him slump as if defeated then think better of it, straightening himself upright, a last act of defiance.

Honor flicks her eyes skywards. ‘They’re coming for you, but you know that,’ she says to Mulholland. ‘Men who murder their mothers don’t do too well in prison.’

He does not answer.

‘This is a way out,’ she says. ‘A way to escape the shame.’

‘How funny.’ He laughs, bleakly, until the laugh hits pain and fizzles out. ‘That’s what I said to Natasha.’

‘You’re a monster.’

His face twitches and he shakes his head. ‘They knew what they were getting into. All three of them. A pact with the devil.’ His eyes go from Honor to Nevis and back again. ‘And here I am.’

Silence falls. Beside her Nevis appears frozen. As for Honor, she can no longer distinguish between the whump of the ’copter and her own heart. He has said it, finally. It is said.

All around them the trees sway in the downdraught. Soon the ’copter will be overhead again. She wants this over with.

‘Two steps back. You won’t see it coming,’ she says.

His bad foot taps the ground. He shifts his weight just long enough to take a half step backwards towards the cliff, roars with the pain and falls to his hands and knees. Yes, crawl you bastard.

A voice shouts, ‘Wait!’ Nevis raises a hand. ‘How is this man my father? How?’

Mulholland is looking up at Nevis, his breath short and laboured. ‘They kept me from you, Nevis. She…’ He points to Honor ‘…kept me from knowing anything about you. Couldn’t stand to have a rival for your mother’s affections on the scene.’

‘Affections? Zoe couldn’t stand you,’ snorts Honor, sidestepping closer, the rifle still trained on Mulholland. She reaches out a hand to her daughter and tries not to cry out when Nevis steps away.