“I found this in Frank's desk,” Elaine said. “After the funeral. It's addressed to you. I should have given it to you months ago. I was afraid of what it said.”

She held it out. My name was on the front, in Frank's neat handwriting. For Rachel. If the truth ever comes out.

I opened it in my car.

Dear Rachel,

If you are reading this, then the truth has come out at last, and I am glad.

I knew from the start that those photos were wrong. I knew my wife and Amber had something to do with it. I am ashamed to say I was not brave enough to stand up to them, or to my son. I chose a quiet life over the right thing. That was my great failure.

So I did the only things I could. I sent the cards. I wrote my will. I asked for the envelope to be opened in that room, so everybody would have to see.

Look after our boy. Tell him his grandad loved him, even from far away.

Frank.

I sat in the car park for a long time.

Then I got out, walked back to where Elaine was still standing, and said, “Noah's birthday is in March. You should come.”