‘I don’t know of any Scarlet,’ Freya says, but Ange has already pulled her arm away to follow Frank to the door. ‘I’ll get you another wine,’ Freya calls after her. ‘Come back in, Ange, and I’ll get you something to eat, too.’ Freya nudges impatiently for me to move so she can get to the bar.

‘There was no one called Scarlet,’ I say when she returns. ‘I knew everyone on the island and there was no one with that name.’

Freya stands by the table, her fingers tapping it impatiently as she watches the door, waiting for Ange to come back in.

I look over my shoulder. ‘She’s been a while. Do you think she’s okay?’

Freya doesn’t acknowledge me as she strides across the pub and disappears outside. When she comes back her eyes are wide with anger. ‘She’s gone.’ Picking up her phone, she scrolls through for what I assume is Ange’s number. ‘No answer. Shit.’

‘Do you think Iona got the wrong place?’ I ask.

‘No,’ Freya says, grabbing her bag, infuriated by Ange’s disappearance. ‘I think Scarlet changed her name.’

Evergreen Island

25 August 1993

Bonnie stood at Stella’s window, watching her mother in the garden below. She was chattering away to Susan, pouring them both glasses of wine like they had no cares in the world. Bonnie’s fingers trembled as she touched the pane of glass, lightly at first because she didn’t want to bring attention to herself.

All she wanted was for Susan to leave. For her mum to tell her friend to go and then to come and find her. Bonnie hadn’t been downstairs in over two hours, yet her mum hadn’t once thought to see if she was okay.

She wasn’t. Not one bit.

Pressing the heel of her hand more firmly against the glass, she watched Susan lean in, sharing some piece of gossip, no doubt.

Gossip made her sick. She didn’t want to hear any more, ever again.

If she pushed harder she could shove her hand right through the window.

The thought intrigued Bonnie. Maybe she should. Maybe then she could jump out with the shattering glass and finally her mum would notice that something was up.

She didn’t miss the fact that the one time her mother wasn’t cooing over her shoulder, Bonnie needed it more than ever.

But then did she really want to talk to her? Maybe it was better to stay hiding upstairs. To keep her hands over her ears and tune out the rest of the world, like she had as soon as Iona had left the house earlier.

She didn’t want to see her best friend again. She didn’t.

But then on the other hand she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again.