In the time it had taken her to walk from the house the sky had grown darker. The only sounds were the call of a bird and the slow lazy flap of a heron’s wings as it left the riverbank.

Flora scanned the lakeshore into the distance, and then turned to look at the island. It nestled in the center of the lake, an oasis of green and tall trees in the huge expanse of water.

Its only inhabitants were a few rare species of butterflies.

There was no way Izzy would be there.

She was about to resume her focus on the shoreline when she saw a flash of blue among the trees. Izzy’s shirt. Izzy had gone to the island? No, surely not. How would she have got there?

And then she peered more closely and saw a little yellow boat hauled high away from the waterline.

Flora’s heart almost stopped. Izzy had rowed there? Was she really that desperate? Poor Izzy. Poor, poor Izzy. She’d taken herself to a place where no one would look for her. A place away from everyone.

Now what?

Flora glanced over her shoulder, wishing she had reinforcements. Jack and the gang would be gone all day, and Clare was unlikely to be back for hours. What if Izzy didn’t have hours? She’d been so upset.

Flora checked her phone, but as usual there was no signal, which was normally blissful but right now made her want to hurl the device into the lake.

No signal to call for help. There was just her.

Why hadn’t she learned to swim? Or at least row a boat?

She glanced at the island again but the flash of blue had disappeared. She imagined Izzy, desperate and alone, staring into those waters.

Flora turned her head and looked at the remaining boat, tied to the dock.

No. No way.

But what if Izzy did something terrible? She’d never forgive herself. And even if she didn’t do any of the things Flora’s imagination was currently conjuring, there was still the fact that she was feeling alone.

Flora knew how awful that was and suddenly it was important to her, terribly important, that Izzy knew she wasn’t alone.

She breathed deeply. How hard could it be to row a boat? You sat in it and paddled. You didn’t even need to touch the water. If she kept her eyes up she wouldn’t even need to see much of the water.

Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she dropped her backpack into the boat that was moored on the other side of the dock.

Her fingers fumbled and slipped on the knot as she tried to untie it, as if her body was trying to stop her doing something that was undeniably foolish.

Was she seriously going to climb into this boat and try to row herself to the island?