52. Now

My stomach churns as I pull up at the police station. Rose is missing too. For all our differences, Lydia is going through what I'm going through.

I stay in the car and call Dan.

‘Frances? I, uh, I've just arrived at Glastonbury. I need to look, myself.'

I clench my jaw to stop it from dropping. Not on his way home, then. Not likely to be home for however long it'll take to search the largest festival in the country. Not available for police questioning.

Do I even trust him? This cheater? This man who shares my bed and calls himself Jenna's father? Is he really at Glastonbury? He could be anywhere.

He could have Jenna.

My heart.

That would be easier, wouldn't it? To blame everything on the interloper. The only member of my family I've chosen myself, and who loves me.

He does love me. If he's cheating, it's my fault.

And he loves Jenna. There's no question about that. I see them sitting cross-legged on the lawn, their faces calm, strumming their guitars. Ever since I was a girl, I've loved a man who can play an instrument. He gave Jenna her love of music. What have I given her?

I take a deep breath and tell him about being best friends with Georgia, and being taught by her mother when we were all at PES.

I tell him how Miss Smith had tried to rape Tristan and he'd got that scar defending himself.

I explain that there was a tape of the attack that I was meant to destroy because Tristan thought it could be misconstrued.

I whisper that maybe the tape shows something different to what I've just described. That maybe Tristan had been lying about what happened.

I explain how Miss Smith died.

I tell him I think Jenna found the tape; that Rose might have taken it.

Outside, a fox scampers from behind the building and disappears into the hedge. The car park is empty save for three patrol cars and an old green Volvo. The orange street light makes the sky seem darker. Two officers step outside the white doors, one smoking a cigarette, the other vaping.

Dan is quiet as I speak, not filling the moments when I stop to cry. And then it's done. I check my watch. It's quarter to two. Not even fifteen minutes it took to tell Dan the biggest secret of my life.

The street light flickers and the smokers go back inside.

Has Bevan spoken to Georgia yet? Has she listened to my message about Redmoor? She's had almost two hours. It feels like a lifetime.

‘Okay,' Dan says.

‘Okay?'

‘Well, I knew there was something like this. Some secret in this family. I just wish you'd told me.'

And then what? And then he'd never have married me? What does he mean, heknew?

‘We live with, what, an attacker of women? A rapist?'

‘No… no, I don't… I didn't say that. I don't know what happened.'

‘Frances, you said that Tristan said the tape could be misconstrued as him attacking Miss Smith, which is why he needed you to destroy it. You said that version of events might not be true.'

I'm silent for a second. Everything is churned up and confused. What do I really believe? ‘Maybe.'

Dan sighs. ‘Frances, you knew all of this when you first spoke to the police.'

‘No.' I close my eyes and go back over this endless day: over Ash and Ava rummaging in the fridge after school; over listening to them talking about the argument between Jenna and Rose; over pulling all the tapes from the shelf one by one. ‘I didn't know Jenna had found the tape when the police were at Shorthorn. I still don't know.'

‘You told the police that Georgia's mother attacked and tried to rape Tristan when he was a schoolboy. That everyone knew her mother was a – a predator. It's very different if you think it might have gone another way.'

I'm silent again as he pauses and breathes heavily down the phone. My husband, the love of my life, is telling me to do the right thing. It's so simple the way he says it. As if I knew the truth all along. But I didn't. I've buried my head in the sand all these years. A tear rolls down my face as he continues.

‘Because why would Georgia want to take revenge if her mother was the one who attacked him? It doesn't really make sense. The police wouldn't really see that as a motive, surely. And you knew that – you knew she wanted revenge and you knew why. I just… Jenna is our daughter. She's our little girl. She… I can't… Look, I have to go. We can talk about this later. You have to tell the police.'

‘I'm going to. I'm here already.'

‘Good. Okay.' I hear him take a deep breath. ‘Look, she really could be here, at Glastonbury. Positive thoughts.'

I laugh. Normally he rolls his eyes when I tell him to look on the bright side.

What if it turns out that all that's happened is Jenna and Rose have gone off for a weekend of music and dancing, and by the time Jenna gets back her entire family has imploded?

Because that's what will happen if I get out of this car and walk into that building.

But I do.

At the front desk the woman asks me to fill in a form and says she'll send me right through – DI Bevan is out but another officer will take my statement. The bare white strip lights make me feel naked.

I wonder if Bevan has gone to speak to Lydia. She must've called to report Rose missing.

A policeman shows me into a room with a faux-leather sofa and some plastic chairs. He looks like a teenager: trendy black moustache, hollow cheeks. He offers me coffee and I shake my head, already seeing flashes of the story I have to tell him: Georgia dropping from our hands into the stream; racing around the empty assembly hall with Lydia and Mina, laughing, gloating, high; Tristan's eyes wide, blood dripping from the open gash on the side of his face, his hands shaking.