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‘Tommy, please listen to me.’ I rest a hand on my trembling thigh. ‘Where are you going? Tom. Wait.’ A buzz of laughter from the TV filters through the ceiling as he stomps out of the room in a rage. For a few moments, I just sit there frozen, feeling light-headed, disorientated. Frank has destroyed me. The vindictive bastard. God forgive me, but I wish my sister had ended him. What am I going to do now?

Shooting to my feet, I barrel after Tom. ‘You can’t walk away from this. We need to discuss it.’ Tom ignores my pleas, opening and closing cabinet doors manically. I gawp at him as he crosses the kitchen and opens the freezer. A gust of arctic air snaps at my legs. ‘Tom, please.’ With his bare hand, he scoops up a handful of ice cubes from a plastic bag. They rattle as they hit the glass. ‘You said I could talk to you about anything, remember?’

I watch, rooted to the spot, as he grabs a bottle of cognac off the worktop by the neck. It’s the one Daisy uses for cooking. Cheap and, undoubtedly, not the smoothest of blends, but I don’t suppose Tom really cares right now. It isn’t every day you’re told that the child you’ve been raising for the last fifteen years isn’t biologically yours. Wrapping his lips around the mouth of the bottle, he takes a swig, as if his life depended on it, squeezing his eyes shut as he swallows, face ablaze.

‘Just calm down, will you?’

Tom’s eyes snap open, round and wild and challenging. ‘You,’ he seethes, jabbing a finger at me. ‘Don’t get to tell me how to fucking feel.’ Spittle flies from his mouth, foaming at the corners.

‘Please just listen to me,’ I say, breath shallow. He pours a generous amount of tawny liquid into a tumbler and knocks it back in one hit. ‘What Frank told you was…’

A crashing sound from upstairs snatches our attention. He stops pouring mid-flow and looks at the ceiling.

‘Shit,’ I say, following his gaze. ‘I hope that’s not Georgia, listening.’ I hesitate. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

I take the steps two at a time, heart pounding, gently ease Georgia’s door open and sigh with relief. She’s asleep, mouth slightly ajar, TV flickering on the wall in front of her bed, volume high. The sound of the cistern filling from Daisy’s room filters through the open door as I watch my precious daughter sleeping soundly.

‘It’s okay, darling,’ I whisper, standing over her, ‘I won’t let Frank destroy our family. I promise.’ Dropping a light kiss on her silky blonde hair, I close the door gently behind me, race down the stairs and storm into the kitchen. Tom is sitting at the table looking ashen.

‘You okay?’ I ask.

‘Do I look okay?’

‘Sorry. Stupid question. She’s asleep, by the way,’ I mutter, pulling out a chair opposite him. ‘Daisy must’ve dropped something in her bedroom.’ Tom acknowledges this piece of information with a grunt. ‘About what Frank said…’

‘Don’t even think about spinning any more lies.’

‘I wasn’t going to.’ I exhale loudly. ‘I wanted to tell you about Liam. I just needed to sort out a few things first and then…’

‘When?’ he snaps.

I look at him, puzzled. ‘What?’

‘When were you going to tell me?’

The deafening silence is punctuated by the hum of the fridge and then the creaking of footsteps above us. I hope it’s Daisy, unable to get back to sleep after a wee, and not Georgia eavesdropping at the top of the stairs.

‘I was waiting for the right moment.’ I press my hands flat on the table, fingers splayed, and focus on the gold band around my finger, and just then I picture our shotgun wedding, as Gary called it, where not a drop of alcohol passed my lips – the stuffy registry office of the Wood Green civic centre – Linda and Zelda, bridesmaids next to me. Tom’s mate, Toby, by his side in a too tight navy suit – my protruding belly – I was definitely showing by then. And then a table for twenty at the Apollo restaurant in Bayswater where everyone got pissed apart from me. ‘But you were bereaved and…’

‘Don’t you dare use my aunt as an excuse for your lies,’ he roars. I look at the ceiling, imagining Daisy sitting up in bed, listening, kindle in hand, wondering what a psycho family she’s got herself mixed up with.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘It’s just that you warned me off Liam and I didn’t know how to…’ And then suddenly a thought rockets into my head and the reins pull on my vocal cords. ‘Hang on a minute.’ Cocking my head, I press my torso against the edge of the wooden table and narrow my eyes. ‘You said Frank told you everything last Saturday, sent you the photo. You’ve known about Liam for almost a week, yet carried on as normal. You even wanted to fuck me just now on the staircase.’ I glower at him. ‘So why the sudden incredulity?’

Tom’s face tightens. ‘I thought he was lying. I thought you were going to deny it,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve been going crazy since I found out. I couldn’t even discuss it with anyone. In the end, I convinced myself you’d bumped into your ex and that clown took a photo of you and him to cause trouble between us because, let’s face it, it’s obvious you didn’t want him dating Zelda.’

I nod fanatically. ‘You’re absolutely spot on.’ Holding my hands up, I swallow hard. ‘Frank’s a vindictive liar. I’ve known him for weeks, remember? Long before any of you guys met him.’

‘Only this time he wasn’t lying, was he?’ Tom says dryly. ‘This time he was telling the naked truth.’