Sabina had backed up two steps and her face had gone a mottled red, and she was breathing in short pulls, and she was smiling.

That was the thing.

She was smiling.

“You put your hands on me,” she said.

“I didn’t touch you.”

“You put your hands on me in this house.” She reached into the bag on the console and came out with her phone.

“Do you understand what you’ve just done to your own life?”

Rosamund said nothing.