It is lunchtime when Lisa returns to the kitchen, skin bath-pink and clammy, hair damp. I close my laptop lid. I have learned all I need to know.

There’s a quiche warming in the oven and I pull it out and slice it, turning my head away from the smell of cheese and onion. I couldn’t possibly eat. The pastry crumbles as I lift quarters onto plates, drizzle olive oil over rocket.

‘I can’t help thinking about the time we ran into Aaron at the hospital,’ I say to Lisa as we begin our game, if that’s what this is to be.

‘What do you want to think about him for?’

‘It must be hard for you, with him working in the hospital too.’

‘He’s only a cleaner.’ Lisa’s voice changes pitch. She’s uncomfortable. ‘Our paths never really cross.’

I change my tack. Wanting to throw her off guard.

‘I love the Eva Longoria perfume you bought me. You’re too kind.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She smiles. Relieved at the change of subject.

‘It’s funny, isn’t it? Stella chose the name Gabrielle for her baby? That was Eva’s character’s name, wasn’t it?’ I spear rocket with my fork but I’m watching her reaction from under my lashes. The way she swallows hard. Reaches for her glass and gulps water as though something is stuck in her throat. The truth, perhaps?

‘Was it?’ Lisa’s tone is too bright. Too high. But I know her so well I can detect the tremble. Notice the blush that wraps itself around her neck, and I imagine my fingers there in its place.

She places her knife and fork together at the side of her plate. ‘I’m sorry, Kat.’

‘Are you?’ I lean forward. Almost urging her to be honest.

‘Yes. It must have taken you ages to make this lunch. I get really full quickly now he’s growing.’

Her hand strokes her belly, and I sink back into my seat, stuffing my hands under my thighs before I give in and sweep the contents of the table onto the cold tile floor, where shards of china will lay strewn amongst the pieces of my broken heart.

‘I must go.’ Lisa looks uncomfortable.

‘But there’s a lemon meringue in the oven.’

‘Sorry.’ She stands.

I expected nothing less.

‘So you’ll transfer the extra money?’ She asks for confirmation, and I nod, not trusting my voice not to crack if I speak. ‘I’ll see you soon, Kat.’

She has no idea how soon.

* * *

I’ve scraped the leftover salad into the bin and crumbled the pastry onto the bird table when the doorbell rings and, before I even stride down the hallway, see the shadow in the opaque glass, I know who it is. Lisa. I couldn’t just let her leave, could I?

‘That was quick?’ My voice trembles with nerves. With adrenaline. With excitement.

‘My car won’t start.’

‘Oh no.’ I feign surprise, and step backwards, letting her come inside, linking my hands behind my back. While Lisa was in the bath I had scrubbed at my skin with a nailbrush until my fingers were pink and raw but I can still detect the faint whiff of oil. A tinge of black under my fingernails. Lisa was right all those years ago. It’s amazing what you can learn on YouTube.

‘Nick’s good with cars. I’ll get him to have a look when he comes home.’

‘It’s okay,’ Lisa says. ‘I’ve got AA membership. There’s something wrong with my mobile though. It’s saying, ‘no SIM’, but I’ve looked and it’s still there. I’ll need to pop it into Carphone Warehouse, I think. Can I use your landline?’

‘No!’ I blurt out. This wasn’t part of my plan. She was supposed to sit in the kitchen and wait for Nick, not knowing Aaron would arrive first. I wanted to confront them together. I can’t let her leave. I just can’t. What will I do if I’m alone when Aaron comes? What will he do? ‘The phone’s not working.’ My words come out garbled. ‘Remember those nuisance calls?’ She nods. I’d confided to Lisa, and she’d showered me with sympathy. Little had I known then it was likely her ringing me. Or Aaron. Perhaps both. ‘BT thinks it is a fault on the line. You’ll have to use my mobile.’

I head towards the kitchen, but the basement door catches my eye. I hesitate. Turn to Lisa and frown as though I’m thinking.

‘I haven’t seen it all morning. I think I left it down there last night.’ I nod towards the basement.

‘What were you doing down there?’

‘I’d been calling Nick for dinner and he didn’t hear. I had to go and fetch him. He started talking to me while he was finishing his run.’ She’s not the only one who can lie. I tilt my head to one side. ‘I remember putting my phone on the table as I sat on the sofa. Nip and check. I must rescue the lemon meringue from the oven before I burn the house down.’

I spin on my heel and hurry into the kitchen, where I stand with my back to the wall. My kneecaps feel as though they are made of rubber. There is laughter in my head but it is not mine and I fight against it. I can’t do this, can I? I can’t lock her in.

Her footsteps thud down the stairs. Slow. Even. No rushing for her with her fake bump, and her fake baby, and suddenly I am furious. My desire to know the truth is stronger than my desire to do the right thing. What has she been lying about since Jake died? I cross to the basement door and pull it closed. Lock it. Leaning my forehead against the door I imagine Lisa on the other side thudding her fists, screaming to be let out, and this image whirlwinds around my mind until it is me thudding on the door. Me crying for help.

I back away down the hallway but I can still feel my palms stinging, my throat raw from my screaming. I don’t know what is me and what is her any more. I clasp my hands tightly over my ears and screw up my eyes, slumping to the floor. I only wanted a family. It wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? Slicing through the pounding in my head, the screaming, is a baby’s cry, shrill and desperate, and I begin to rock back and forth as though I am soothing an infant. Soothing myself. Please, please make it stop. I don’t think I can take any more. But I have to move. Aaron will be here soon, and my plan has gone all wrong. I don’t know what I am going to do.

* * *

He’s not coming.

The clouds are heavy and swollen with the threat of rain. The sky battleship grey.

He’s not coming.

If he’d left Farncaster after the text, he’d have been here by now and it’s almost five. I can’t check Lisa’s phone to see if he has texted again to tell her he’s changed his mind because I have broken it. Nick will be home in an hour. I pace the lounge. Back and forth. A caged lion. I imagine Lisa doing the same downstairs.

The tea light under the oil burner flickers in the corner but the smell of lavender does little to calm me. I don’t think I’ll ever feel calm again.

I hold Jake’s gold cross between my fingers. What would he think if he could see me now? How would he feel? A rush of shame engulfs me. My belly a mass of writhing snakes. I’ve locked his sister up like an animal and no matter what she has lied about, the money she has conned from us, Jake wouldn’t condone this. I can almost see the disappointment in his eyes that once looked at me with passion. With lust. With love.

Revenge.

It was never purely about money; I know that. Lisa still blames me for Jake’s death. He shouldn’t have been with me that night. He should have been with her, and it must eat at her, as corrosive as acid, burning her sense of right and wrong. Aaron still blames me for losing his place at university, his longed-for career in medicine. How degraded he must feel being a cleaner at the hospital he’d once thought he’d be a surgeon at. I begin to cry. Was it not enough to let me think I was going to be a mum and snatch my dreams away? Did they also have to lead me to believe I was going mad? The phone calls, the wreath, the book. The smashed picture. Locking me in the toilet. Breaking into my car. The man who has been watching the house – was that someone they roped in with the promise of easy money from a desperate woman? Because desperate is what I was.

Love.

I have so much love to give a child. Such a yearning to feel a baby in my arms, hear the soft snuffling against my neck, smell talcum powder, but it’s finished.

I am finished.

There is such an inherent sadness inside of me. I am broken. The cross seems to warm between my fingers.

I have to let Lisa out. She is quiet now and I hope she is calm. I have to let her go. The answers I crave won’t fill the cot upstairs. They won’t miraculously make me a mum.

It’s over.

My legs are heavy with sadness as I turn to face the lounge door, taking a step towards the basement. One. Two. Three.

A noise from outside. I freeze. But it’s only the forecast storm. The rain has started lashing against the window, hammering to be let in as Lisa is likely hammering to be let out.

Four steps. Five.

The hallway is suddenly flooded with light. There’s the thrum of a car engine. A silence. A door slamming.

Aaron.

He is here.