‘Devon Something,’ Jan goes on as I walk into the kitchen.

‘Hundley,’ I say, not meeting her eyes.

‘Hundley, that’s right. Did you know her?’

‘She’s Horton’s top swimmer.’ I have a flash of being back at Horton, the viewing area above the new pool where I used to go sometimes in the evenings for some peace and quiet. I see Devon and Nessa practicing lengths below me, their arms slicing through the water, silent behind glass.

‘Her poor parents, they must be near-dead with worry.’ Jan tsks, plumping up a cushion on the sofa before she settles into it, mug of tea in hand. ‘What are they like, the parents?’ She looks at me, eyes big, waiting for details. Rich girls going missing: even Jan, who isn’t a gossipy sort of person, wants the scoop. If she’s like this, just imagine what the media is going to be like.

So I describe Angela and Philip, their wealth and business standing, the McMansion they have in the Connecticut countryside just thirty minutes from here. I don’t tell her that I know exactly what it looks like - down to the chandeliers in the hallway, the marble chequerboard pattern of the Carrara tiles, or how the whole house always smells of lilies. No, I keep all that to myself, and my hands folded across my chest, in case something in them gives me away. I tell her that Philip’s a doctor, and that Angela runs a company.

Jan clicks her tongue again. ‘Well, God willing, she’ll turn up soon.’ She grips her mug and I wonder if she’s thinking about Fiona. I feel a familiar twinge in my chest. Old guilt, the guilt I get whenever Jan mentions Fiona.

‘How did the appointment go?’ Jan says, suddenly her brisk self again, as if trying to sweep the topic away.

‘Oh…fine,’ I lie.

‘You’ll be careful with that medicine, won’t you, love? You mustn’t go eating it like candy, you know.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah. I know.’

‘Have you been getting any more of those…’ she waves her hand, not wanting to say panic attack even if we both know that’s the right label.

‘Not for a while,’ I say, which is the truth, but also probably the reason my prescription only lasted three weeks.

Jan nods, sips her tea.

‘And no word on that new post you applied for, Sade?’

I actually got a ‘no thank you’ from them this morning - a maternity cover position that I was hoping I might get. I guess no matter what spin you put on it, my abrupt departure from Horton just doesn’t look good. They’re reading between the lines and they don’t like what they see.

‘Not yet,’ I say.