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of all the things I could say to him in that moment. Reassure him. Tell him I wouldn’t do anything terrible. Anything ‘irreversible’. But I couldn’t bear to go near the subject. Instead, I just told him I was going to pick Titus up from my mother’s, then go home and have a think about things.

Archie raised an eyebrow. ‘Things?’

‘The future. Between me and Matthew.’

Archie took his time selecting an apple from the bowl of fruit in front of him, in the end opting for a deep red Gala. There was something slightly less tense in his face, as if my words had reassured him a little. He cut his apple slowly and said, not looking at me, ‘And Rupert?’

The name, spoken aloud, sent a shiver down my back.

‘Rupert?’

Archie allowed his eyes to meet mine now. ‘Well, he does have a part to play in all this, doesn’t he? A big part.’

I didn’t say anything and, after a moment, Archie continued, ‘From the sounds of the email – and if you don’t remember, you pushed your phone upon me and demanded I read it – it appears that you have a choice laid out in front of you.’

I frowned. ‘What choice is that?’

Archie chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed and said, ‘Stay married to Matthew. Try to find a route through all of this shit. Or walk off into a fairy-tale sunset with the Prince Charming of your dreams?’

He was right. But, of course, it was never a future I could contemplate. I firmly expected to go to prison for what I was about to do. I was vaguely aware of the possibility that my father, through his labyrinthine connections in law and government, might be able to save me from incarceration through some clever defence in court, but all of that was just background noise. Just a distraction from the clear course of action: make Matthew understand his betrayal in the clearest and most severe way possible.

‘Just a word of caution,’ Archie said, ‘fairy-tale endings rarely work as neatly in real life.’

I nodded. ‘I know. And don’t worry. I’m under no illusion that this will end well.’

Chapter Forty-Six Charlie

Three days after the murder

My mother stares at me. She opens her mouth to speak, closes it again, then finally says, ‘I never would have thought it possible … that you could kill Matthew.’

‘You never thought I would be capable?’ I ask.

She shakes her head. ‘Never of something like that.’

Had Matthew been surprised, too? When he realised what I was doing, a split second before the knife slid into him. Had he been shocked that his husband was – always had been – capable of murder? I guess I’ll never know.

But perhaps that was what he’d been trying to say as he’d struggled and gasped, trying to cling on to life.

After.

That’s what I thought he’d said. Maybe he’d been about to say ‘After all this time…’? After all this time, how could I do such a thing to someone I loved? This question carries me off into my own thoughts for some moments, then, when I return to the here and now, I give voice to a more pressing, practical one. ‘Why were you so quick to think Titus had killed Matthew?’

My mother and father exchange a glance, then she says something that takes me by surprise. ‘Because he told me he wanted to. When he came over to my house, the day you thought he was missing. He was very upset. Somehow he’d found out Matthew was cheating on you. He wouldn’t tell me who it was or how he’d found out. He was so distraught at the idea that Matthew could cheat on you. It appalled him. He’s always seen you two as the epitome of a stable home. He said he hated him. Wanted him dead. I told him not to tell you, that I would think of a way to let you know. And then, two days later, when I got your call to say Matthew had been stabbed … and the slip-up you made when you said to me, “Rachel has confessed, she’s taking the … she’s confessed to the crime,” it all became clear to me that she wasn’t the guilty party.’

She starts to cry, and dabs at her eyes. My father leans forward and says, ‘So all this time, we were puzzling why Rachel would want to kill Matthew, when you knew all along, and at the same time we were trying to protect our grandson from being arrested – when in fact we should have been looking at our son.’

I look my father in the eye. He’s always been fairly unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes now that I think I can make out. Something different, that I truly haven’t seen before. It’s like he’s impressed. Like he’s viewing me in a completely different light. There’s an intensity in the air, as if the atmosphere has become so heightened by their realisation, you could almost taste the tension. It’s like something is on fire in the room, as if the smoke of the burning flowers Elena had sent has travelled up from the kitchen and started to singe the wallpaper.

At last, I nod and say, ‘That’s about the long and the short of it.’

Chapter Forty-Seven Charlie

The day of the murder

Archie drove me over to The Ritz to get my car after we’d had breakfast. He’d lent me some clothes to wear and, due to him being a good inch or two shorter than me, I could feel the cool breeze of the late-morning air around my ankles as I stepped out of his ridiculous Spyder car and into The Ritz to sort out the parking charge. I vaguely wondered if I’d still be over the limit, although my drunken blackout had been relatively early in the evening and I felt perfectly in control as I said goodbye to Archie with a hug and a promise to

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