Harwood searches through the pages of his pad. ‘Susan and Graham Carlton’s daughter?’ His eyebrows are raised when he looks up. I nod and he continues to look at me for a moment too long. ‘And you say they were friends?’

‘I saw them going to the mainland together, so yes, I suppose they must have been.’ Now I think about it, it was an odd friendship, with Tess only fifteen.

I suddenly wonder whether Tess was the cause of Bonnie’s argument with Iona, but I can’t consider it for long as Harwood is talking again. ‘Tell me about your brother’s relationship with Iona Byrnes.’

Even though this is what I’ve been anticipating, the air sticks in my throat like sickly treacle. I swallow loudly. ‘Well, to be honest I saw no relationship between them. I mean, my brother, he …’ I pause and take a sip of water. ‘Danny barely ever spoke to her even though she was at our house a lot.’

‘How did he behave when she was around?’ he asks.

As I remember it, Danny was no different with Iona than he was with anyone else, but I do recall the way she was with him. ‘She tried to talk to him a lot,’ I say. ‘I mean, she was always asking him questions, trying to bring him into the conversation. We all knew better than to push Danny, but I guess Iona showed him a lot of interest.’

‘More than other islanders did?’

‘Yes. None of the other girls gave him the time of day.’

‘Why do you think Iona did, then?’

I shrug. ‘At the time I thought she was being friendly.’

‘And how did Danny respond to the attention?’

‘I think it made him feel awkward. He wouldn’t have liked it. And he didn’t really engage with her.’

‘What about the things that weren’t being said?’ Harwood asks. ‘The mannerisms, behaviours.’

The things that people don’t say are, of course, what I’ve learnt to look out for in my job. But back then? I shake my head as I realise I didn’t really notice.

Harwood doesn’t speak. Instead he regards me as if he’s waiting for more. I recall Bonnie’s words about Danny always watching Iona that summer, but I never saw it for myself.

As far as I knew Danny was up in his trees drawing. My mind flits to his book and the pictures inside.

‘What is it, Ms Harvey?’ the detective asks and I realise my lips have parted.

‘He used to draw her a lot,’ I admit. ‘But then he drew everyone,’ I quickly add. ‘He had a skill for it, his drawings were so detailed and accurate.’

‘But he drew Iona more than anyone else?’