"He drugged you?" Howard exclaimed.

Eleanor nodded furiously. Her face was the colour of a tomato and she was panting hard. She spoke in between gasps of air, thrusting a small pot into his hands.

Howard peered down at it. If Eleanor's explanation was right and Will had drugged his sister before killing Jonathan Coyle, then that made him a murderer.

"He gaslighted me," Eleanor said. "I'm sure of it."

Howard glanced up at the noticeboard displaying the train time in bright orange pixels. 14:37 London Paddington – on time.

"Show me again," he said, reaching for the journal. His eyes scanned the scrawl, the messy doodles, the chaos springing from the pages. "He couldn't have written any of this in his normal mental state."

"He didn't. You've met Will. He's almost always on a fix."

Howard chewed his lip, now examining the pills. It crumbled slightly in his hand and he brushed off the powder on his jeans.

"It all makes sense," Eleanor said hurriedly. They were sitting side-by-side on the bench. Her hands were clasped tightly together. "He goes to Chevy's house, she writes him these instructions or maybe she dictates them for him to write, or maybe she's not involved and someone else wrote them before her, but that doesn't matter. Thing is that he gets the drugs, knowing full well that he's going to give them to me. That's why my memories have been so hazy! He must have dissolved the pill into my tea one day, given it to me to drink."

"But you can't have drunk all of it," Howard pointed out, "because you said your memories were blurred."

"Exactly. I must have left it unfinished or not drunk the dregs."

"But you have that one clear memory. The one with the knife sticking out of his chest."

She nodded. "Must have been the trauma."

He exhaled loudly. "You could have died."

Eleanor shrugged but didn't reply.

Both of them tensed as the train came to view at the other end of the platform. Its battered front had seen better days but Eleanor knew not to be fooled. A train like that would squish you to a pulp if you got in its way. She turned to him.

"So you're leaving."

Howard stared at the tracks, then at his phone.

"One moment," he said softly. She watched him curiously as he dialled a number and waited for someone to pick up. The train rolled in, rumbling so much that Eleanor could feel it in her bones.

"Dad?" A pause. "Hello... Yes, I'm fine. Listen, dad, could you possibly get a refund on the ticket? I just... I've changed my mind."

Howard waited. Eleanor felt a grin creeping from inside her.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Okay, love you... Yeah... See you soon."

Eleanor was fully grinning by the time he'd hung up.

"What?" he said, smiling a little as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Eleanor threw her arms around him. He stiffened, unsure what to do, but relaxed as the faint whiff of her perfume made its way to his nostrils. Even bloodied and sweating, she still smelled reasonable. Then, slowly, he eased his arms around her shoulders, felt the shake of her shoulders, the warmth of her body.

They stayed like that, locked in a tight embrace, as the train pulled out of the station.