‘You don’t,’ Dee said. ‘But what possible reason could I have for making any of this up?’

Good question.

‘And this woman,’ Emer said. ‘She sent you a photo of me and Kitty?’

‘You were standing on a street somewhere,’ Dee said. ‘You had your arms around each other’s shoulders and you were both smiling. It’s a lovely photo.’

Emer remembered the empty space in the photo album. And she remembered the photo that used to be there. There were only two people who could have removed that photo – Robert or her mother.

‘I found another photo of you both in Annie’s house,’ Dee said.

‘My mother’s idea of playing happy families,’ Emer said. ‘Taking photos of us. Most of the time, we hated it. Although we never told her that. We always played along, because we were too scared not to. There were always a lot of photos. It would have been easy for Kitty to take one and keep it for herself. No one would notice one photo was missing.’

Emer felt giddy, light-headed. Was it really possible that she’d been right all along?

‘You really think Kitty’s still alive?’ she said.

‘I’m not sure,’ Dee said. ‘But I think she might be, yes. Do you remember a girl called Lucy Ryan?’

‘Of course I remember Lucy. What about her?’

She remembered other things too. Lucy and Kitty whispering secrets to each other, planning something in the weeks leading up to Lucy’s disappearance. Lucy’s father, banging on their front door, screaming for Kitty to come out and tell him what had happened to his daughter. Mum, Kitty and Emer cowering in the kitchen, hands over their ears, praying for him to go away. Her parents arguing. Her father telling her mother they didn’t have a choice. A choice about what?

The girls were there that night.

Is that what her mother had said, or had Emer misheard her? She couldn’t trust anything, not even her own memories.

Outside, she heard Robert’s car pulling into the driveway. He’d been like a father to her. Better than her own father had ever been. Solid, reliable, calm. A positive presence in her life. If there was anyone she could trust, it was Robert. Wasn’t it?

‘Dee, I’ve got to go. But first, tell me why you asked me about Lucy.’

‘It’s complicated,’ Dee said. ‘And I’d rather not say anything until I’m sure. I’m going back to London tomorrow to try to speak to Annie again. I’ll let you know how I get on.’

‘Brilliant, thanks. I’ll speak to you tomorrow evening.’

She hung up, just as the front door opened.

‘Hello?’