Bob grunts. Thick fingers wrap around my wrist, squeezing too tight. ‘Yes, but her pulse is slow.’ His fingers release and I hear him shuffling to his feet. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Annie says quietly. ‘I don’t know, I guess – I can’t …’ Her words hang in the air before she scoops them up and says, ‘She knows too much.’

He sighs, resigned. ‘If you want me to bury her I’ll need tools.’

‘We can’t do that. Not with the police still crawling all over the island.’

‘What choice do we have?’ he says gruffly and then adds, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this again. First for her mother, now …’

‘Now for me? Is that what you were about to say? After everything I’ve done for you, Bob.’

There is a moment’s silence before he answers. ‘Yes. I know.’

‘We’ve always been in this together,’ Annie goes on. ‘You and me. I’m your godmother …’ This hangs in the air before sinking in to me. How had I never known how close they were? How much one might do for the other?

‘I know,’ he says again, resigned. ‘I know. Anyway, it’ll be fine. The police won’t be looking for another body.’

‘But they will when they know Stella is missing. She has people who’ll notice.’

‘I’ll make sure she won’t be found.’

‘Like Iona was,’ Annie whispers.

‘This time—’

‘This time don’t bury her right outside my garden.’

‘You know why I did that,’ he says, like a scolded child.

My throat tightens as the words register. Not only did Bob bury Iona; he chose the exact spot on purpose, so that if anyone found her, fingers would point at my family.

‘You did it for revenge,’ Annie says. ‘But look where it’s got us.’

‘I did it because Maria accused me of hurting my daughter,’ he growls and my body tenses so hard I fear any moment I will cry out with the pressure.

I sense Bob getting to his feet as he says, ‘I’ll get my things.’

‘Okay,’ Annie says finally. That one word cracks in half, a give-away that she wishes it hadn’t come to this. Bob leaves the room before Annie adds, so quietly I can barely hear, ‘Oh, what have I done, Stella?’

I need to get to the window before they come back. I push myself up again, on to my knees, a slow movement that makes my head splinter with pain. The room whips around me and I hang my head forward. Objects come in and out of focus. I know if I stand I’ll likely be sick.