“But you’re too late, Cara. I’m already away from her, I’m already free.” The light flashes across her face. She’s no longer a seventeen-year-old girl, she’s not even twenty to me now. She seems older than anyone I’ve ever known, worn down by years of abuse and pain.

“You’re not sick.” The words sound too short, too simple. I know the answer, but I need to hear her say it. The person who used to be Grace shakes her head.

“Not since I was a little girl,” she says. She keeps her eyes on me, holds her hands palm upwards to the sky, as though to prove her health.

I keep moving slowly towards her. We’re so close now that when the light comes round again I see the gray shadows below her eyes and I see her fear as she glances up, towards the cliff behind me. She’s on guard, watching for someone. There’s fear in her eyes as she scans the cliff top—the twins aren’t her protectors, they’re her captors. We might not be safe here. But before I can think about what we should do I need to hear about Meg from Grace. I need to know why, in case it’s the last chance I get.

“Why did she, why did Meg . . .” My voice is barely audible. I find I can’t finish, but Grace’s ears are sharp.

“Why did she do it?” Grace sighs, tips her head back, as though the answer is somewhere out there, in the night sky, too big for this small beach. I see her life beating in her neck. Apart from occasionally looking towards the path that leads down from the cliff, Grace is composed, and her quiet control helps me stay calm. She lifts her head, meets my eyes again before she says, “Do you remember visiting me in the hospital a few years back? It was Christmas Day. Susie made you come in with her.”

Mum had to drag me to the hospital. I moaned all the way. I wanted to be with my friends, flirting and laughing in the pub, not trapped in a stale hospital.

“Remember when our mums went to talk to the nurses?”

I don’t. I only remember Grace so thin it was painful to look at her, but I nod.

“You told me a story about a time when Chris tried to kiss you, but you moved and he ended up slipping over in the mud?” I’d forgotten the story I exaggerated to entertain her, but now I remember Grace in her hospital bed, her bone-sharp shoulders shaking so hard with laughter I was worried she’d dislodge the needle in her hand.

I nod again.

“What happened when Mum came back in and she saw me laughing with you?”

I panic. I can’t see what she wants me to see. In my memory, Grace just keeps laughing and laughing.