‘Yes, well, if you go gallivanting all over the country like some crazed Miss Marple, what do you expect?’ She breezes in before looking at me carefully. ‘You could have been killed. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I do, actually. But it is good to see you, Bon.’

‘I worry about you,’ she murmurs as she takes off her coat and lingers with it in her hand before I sling it over a chair. An overwhelming scent of perfume hangs in the air. ‘Why are you looking at me so oddly?’

I shake my head and glance away. ‘I didn’t know I was.’

‘You were. You were staring at me. Have I got something on my face?’ She reaches a hand and swipes at her chin.

‘No. I wasn’t looking at you in any way,’ I say as she walks off to the kitchen. I take a breath as I watch her go.

It’s weird seeing her again, a face I’ve known my entire life, only now I know we’re not related. The similarities I’d once told myself were there must have all been in my head.

‘Thank God you have no need to carry on your little search now, though.’ She stops in the doorway and turns back. ‘I assume you don’t, anyway?’

I shake my head. ‘Coffee?’

‘Yes.’ She moves out of my way and stands by the small breakfast bar, her fingers scratching its surface.

‘I’m not offering you anything stronger,’ I say as I fill the kettle.

Bonnie doesn’t reply and I don’t look at her as I hear the scrape of a stool against the tiles. ‘So Annie is our killer,’ she says flippantly. When I turn I can tell by the way she leans forward, her eyes wide, that Bonnie is shocked. ‘Why did she do it?’

‘She’s saying it was an accident,’ I reply carefully, ‘but it meant Mum left the island thinking it was Danny.’

Bonnie nods slowly. ‘But then she drugged you. Was she going to kill you too?’

‘I don’t know,’ I tell her, though I’m certain she was. ‘I guess she was scared.’ I avoid telling Bonnie that I’d overheard Annie’s plan to get rid of me. Or that only moments before Meg arrived she’d been about to hit me over the head with her carriage clock.

Bonnie’s fingers have stopped scratching but they trace circles on the surface between us. ‘You know, Luke wants to book us a holiday. To Jamaica,’ she says suddenly. ‘Why do I want to go to Jamaica?’

‘Why don’t you?’ I laugh. ‘It’ll be amazing.’ I know she has changed the subject through fear. As much as Bonnie has plenty of questions, she isn’t sure she wants to ask them.

‘It’ll be hot,’ she goes on.

‘That’s a good thing.’