55

Izzy looks at her father and thinks of what he said to Paul when he was in custody. And his lies and his shady behaviour – they don’t fall away. But something else joins them: love. She loves him. Of that she is sure.

That is the evidence. That is the truth.

‘It was stupid,’ he says now. ‘I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t thinking of you, my baby girl, and I should have been.’

‘You were thinking of her. Understandably,’ she says.

‘There should be laws against using statements made at the scene, or questioning me so soon, Iz. I was in a shock so deep that it took me … well,’ he gives a tiny, sad little laugh, ‘I don’t think I ever did come out of it. Not yet, anyway.’ He reaches for the money again, like he is tying himself to the present, to the evidence that might exonerate him. ‘Anyway. It was my fault. Not legally, but … I failed her.’

‘Who was the dog walker?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Once Matt got it excluded it didn’t matter.’

‘Was it easy to get it excluded?’

‘Easier than the previous. It was a remark made off the record to a police officer when I wasn’t under caution.’

‘I see.’

‘It was like falling down a well, that day. I thought I would disappear from the grief and the shock … just disappear. The world transformed. I was not fit to be making any statements to any police officers,’ he says. ‘Not one little bit. That’s why we got it excluded.’

‘Did Matt believe you?’ she says. She can’t help but ask.

‘Maybe. He always said he did. But he was being paid to say that, I guess. All his clients say that. That’s the thing, Iz. They all say it.’

‘But you really didn’t do it.’

‘No. I didn’t.’ He doesn’t break eye contact.

‘How have you lived with it?’ she says. ‘All these years.’

‘With the conviction?’

‘No. With not knowing who did it.’

‘I don’t know. It was … I was suspended, in there. I shelved it. Until …’

‘Until what?’

‘Until I could come out. And see you.’ He gestures to the money. ‘You’ve found this, and you’ve told me about those three men. Your memories of the events have informed mine. Together, they’re more than the sum of their parts.’

Izzy sits back, in the silence of her hot attic, saying nothing. Her father breaks the silence. ‘What happened to your dancing?’ he says.

‘It’s kind of tied up with Mum’s funeral,’ Izzy says.

‘Tell me.’