Eli came down the stairs halfway through it, stopped dead in the hallway, and looked from Jack to the front door to Willow in a way Jack would remember for the rest of his life. That was the part he would never forgive. Not the lie. Not even the face. That. What it had done to the children. Jack held Willow while she cried for her mother and Eli too stunned to speak.
Later that night, after the police had gone and the house had finally gone quiet, Jack sat on the edge of Eli’s bed. His son stared at the floor for a long time before asking, in a small, strained voice, “Did I really not know what she looked like? I thought that was Mum” Jack looked at him. “No,” he said quietly. “It’s not your fault, I thought the same.” Eli’s jaw tightened.