My uncle once asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ when I was already 27 years old. From that moment, I started to be afraid of him. And a few days later, when he took me to a hotel outside the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”

“What does any of this have to do with whether I’ve had a relationship?”

Richard finally pulled out the chair and sat down.

For the first time, he seemed ashamed.

“Because three weeks ago, I received a letter from Sarah. She said she had found evidence that someone in this family had been lying about what happened to Claire. She also said that the person responsible might try to approach you.”

I swallowed.

“And you thought asking me if I was a virgin would help you?”

“No,” he admitted. “I thought if something had happened to you, you might not feel safe telling me unless I asked directly.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask whether someone had threatened me?”

He lowered his head.

“Because I was afraid you would dismiss me as a man who had spent too many years obsessing over an old family tragedy.”