‘Oscar, there’s no time,’ I say but he smiles at the waitress and she moves away, ignoring me.

For a moment he fiddles with his napkin, and it is all I can do not to reach over the table and shake him.

‘Oscar?’

When he finally speaks his voice is strained, ‘You went back?’

‘Yes, I went back. I just told you—’

‘But I told you we searched the place, Issy, there was nothing there.’

‘Yes, I know you did. But you were wrong. Like I told you. I just went back there and there’s something you need to see …’

For a moment, I see the colour rising in his cheeks.

‘He’s cleared the ground,’ I say, not waiting for a reply. ‘The spot where they were arguing, it’s been cleared. The rest of the area, the ground was moist and dark, but the part where I saw the fighting, it’s dry. The earth is a completely different texture. You know, the top of it, like someone’s brushed away the top layer.’

Oscar continues to smoke his cigarette.

‘The spot where he attacked her, Oscar! Can you hear me? There’s a perfect line – one side the earth is damp, the other is dry. He must have been trying to get rid of something …’

At that moment the waitress arrives, setting down our drinks. Oscar nods, taking a sip and glancing indiscreetly at her chest while she fiddles around with the condiments.

Once she leaves, I lean forward. ‘Please. Did you hear me?’ There is a hint of desperation in my voice now.

‘Yeah, I did,’ he says finally. ‘We’ll check it out.’

His tone is nonchalant and my expression pleads with him to carry on, for him to say something, anything, that suggests for a minute he has been taking me seriously.

When he remains silent, I stand. ‘Come with me. I’ll show you right now. You can see it with your own eyes.’

‘Is, sit down.’

There is a kindness in his expression that makes me want to punch him.

‘Come on. Your hands are shaking.’

‘I need you to listen to what I’m saying.’

The waitress returns and hands us two plates.

After a moment, I pick up the sandwich. ‘Fine, I’ll eat the sandwich.’ I take one mouthful and then another, huge, tearing bites which swell in my throat. Through the chewing I speak again, ‘Is this better? Now will you listen to me?’

There is a stinging silence and finally I swallow, letting my face drop into my hands.

‘OK,’ I say, trying a new tack. ‘You’re right. I’m tired. Really tired.’ I bite my lip. ‘I appreciate you looking out for me. I do, and yes, I need some sleep. A spa maybe, I’ll have a spa …’

I try to smile, to look normal. To show him how reasonable I am capable of being.