Zoe leapt up with a cry, and ran to look for it.

While Zoe searched, Mariana pulled herself up – and noticed someone appearing behind the trees.

It was Fred.

He was hurrying over, looking concerned. He didn’t see Zoe kneeling in the grass, and Mariana tried to warn him. ‘Fred – stop. Stop—’

But Fred didn’t stop and quickly reached her. ‘Are you okay? I followed you – I was worried, and—’

Over his shoulder, Mariana saw Zoe rising up – clutching the knife. Mariana screamed.

‘Fred—’

But too late … Zoe plunged the knife deep into Fred’s back. His eyes widened – and he stared at Mariana in shock.

He collapsed and sank to the ground – and lay there, still, unmoving. A pool of blood seeped out from under him. Zoe pulled out the knife and prodded Fred with it, checking if he was dead. She didn’t look convinced.

Without thinking, Mariana closed her hand around a hard, cold rock that was embedded in the mud. She pulled it out.

She staggered over to Zoe, bending over Fred’s body.

Just as Zoe was about to thrust the knife into his chest … Mariana slammed down the rock on the back of Zoe’s head.

The blow knocked Zoe sideways – as she fell, slipping in the mud, she landed face down – on the knife.

Zoe lay still for a second. Mariana thought she was dead.

But then, with an animal-like groan, Zoe threw herself onto her back. She lay there, a wounded creature, with wide, scared eyes. She saw the impaled knife sticking out of her chest—

And Zoe started to scream.

She didn’t stop screaming: she was hysterical, screaming in agony and fear and horror – the screams of a terrified child.

For the first time in her life, Mariana didn’t go to Zoe’s aid. Instead, she pulled out her phone. She called for the police.

All the time, Zoe kept screaming, screaming – until, eventually … her screams merged with the wail of an approaching siren.

3

Zoe was taken away in an ambulance, accompanied by two armed police officers.

The escort was hardly necessary, as she had regressed to being a child: a frightened, defenceless little girl. Nonetheless, Zoe was charged with attempted murder; further charges were to follow. Only attempted murder – because Fred had survived the attack, just about. He was critically wounded, and driven to hospital in a separate ambulance.

Mariana was in a state of shock. She was sitting on a bench by the river’s edge. She was clutching a cup of strong, sweet tea that Inspector Sangha had poured for her from his flask – for the shock, and as a peace offering.

It had stopped raining. The sky was clear now; the clouds had rained themselves out, leaving only a few wisps of grey in the pale light. The sun was slowly setting behind the trees, and streaking the sky with pink and gold.

As Mariana sat there, she brought the warm cup to her lips and sipped the tea. A female officer attempted to comfort her, putting an arm around her – but Mariana barely noticed this. A blanket was tucked over her knees. She was scarcely aware of it. Her mind was blank as her eyes drifted along the river – and she saw the swan. It was racing along the water, gathering speed.

As she watched it, the swan spread its wings, and took flight. It flew up into the sky, and her eyes followed it into the heavens.

Inspector Sangha joined her and sat down on the bench. ‘You’ll be glad to know,’ he said, ‘Fosca has been fired. Turns out he was sleeping with all of them. Morris confessed to blackmailing him – so you were right. With any luck, they’ll both get what’s coming to them.’

Looking at Mariana, he saw she wasn’t taking any of it in. He nodded at the tea. He spoke gently.

‘How are you? Feeling any better?’

Mariana glanced at him. She gave a slight shake of the head. She didn’t feel better; if anything, she felt worse …

And yet something was different. What was it?

She felt alert, somehow – perhaps awake was a better word: everything seemed clearer, as if a fog had lifted; colours were sharper, the edges of things more defined. The world no longer felt muted and grey and far away – behind a veil.

It felt alive again, and vivid, and full of colour, wet with autumn rain; and vibrating with the eternal hum of endless birth and death.

EPILOGUE

For a long time after that, Mariana remained in shock.

Back at home, she slept on the sofa downstairs at night. She’d never be able to sleep in that bed again; the bed she’d shared with him – that man. She didn’t know who he was any more. She saw him as a kind of stranger, an impostor she had been living with all these years – an actor who had shared her bed and plotted to kill her.

Who was he, this pretend person? What lay beneath his beautiful mask? Was it all a performance – all of it?

Now that the show was over, Mariana had to examine her own role in it. Which wasn’t easy.

As she shut her eyes and tried to visualise his face, she struggled to see his features right. He was fading, like the memory of a dream – and she kept seeing her father’s face instead – her father’s eyes, instead of Sebastian’s; as if they were somehow essentially the same person.

What was it Ruth had said – about her father being central to her story? Mariana hadn’t understood it at the time.

But now, perhaps, she was beginning to.

She hadn’t been back to see Ruth. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to cry, or talk, or feel. It was still too raw.

Nor had Mariana returned to running her therapy groups. How could she presume to help another person, or offer any advice, ever again?

She was lost.

And as for Zoe – well, she never recovered from that hysterical screaming fit. She survived the stabbing, but it precipitated a severe psychological collapse. Following her arrest, Zoe attempted suicide several times, then suffered a massive psychotic breakdown.

Zoe ended up being declared unfit to stand trial. She was eventually committed to a secure unit, the Grove, in North London – the same unit where Mariana had recommended Theo apply for a job.

And it turned out that Theo had followed her advice. He was now working at the Grove – and Zoe was his patient.

Theo attempted to contact Mariana several times, on Zoe’s behalf. But Mariana refused to speak to him, and didn’t return his calls.

She knew what Theo wanted. He wanted to get Mariana to speak to Zoe. She didn’t blame him. If Mariana had been in his shoes, she would have done the same thing. Any kind of positive communication between the two women could be pivotal in Zoe’s recovery.

But Mariana had her own recovery to worry about.

She couldn’t stomach the thought of speaking to Zoe again. It made her feel sick. She simply couldn’t bear it.

It wasn’t a question of forgiveness. That wasn’t something Mariana could decide on, anyway. Ruth always said that forgiveness could not be coerced – it was experienced spontaneously, as an act of grace, appearing only when a person was ready.

And Mariana was not ready. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.

She felt such anger, such hurt. If she ever saw Zoe again, she didn’t know what she might say or do; she certainly wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. Better keep away, and leave Zoe to her fate.

Mariana visited Fred a few times, though, while he was in hospital. She felt a responsibility to Fred, and a gratitude. He had saved her life, after all; she’d never forget that. He was weak at first, unable to talk – but had a smile on his face the whole time Mariana was there. They sat together in friendly silence, and Mariana thought how odd it was, how comfortable and familiar she felt with him – this man she barely knew. It was too soon to say if anything might ever happen between them. But she no longer dismissed it quite so out of hand.

She was feeling very differently about everything, these days.

It were as if every single thing Mariana had ever known, or believed in, or trusted, had fallen away – leaving just an empty, vacant space. She existed in this limbo of emptiness, which lasted for weeks, then months …

Until, one day, she received a letter from Theo.

In his letter, Theo asked Mariana once again to reconsider her refusal to visit Zoe. He wrote insightfully about Zoe, with great empathy, before turning his attention to Mariana.

I can’t help but feel it might benefit you as much as her – and provide you with some kind of closure. I know it won’t be pleasant, but I think it might help. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through. Zoe is beginning to open up more – and I’m deeply disturbed by the secret world she shared with your late husband. I’m hearing things that are truly frightening. And I must say, Mariana, I think you’re extremely lucky to be alive.

Theo finished by saying this:

I know it’s not easy. But all I ask is that you consider, on some level, that she is a victim too.

That phrase made Mariana very angry. She tore up the letter, and threw it in the bin.