Fran searches his face. Who’s he talking about? Did he swap numbers with Caroline? They barely even spoke.

‘Who?’ she asks. ‘Who was worried about me?’

‘Your sister.’

A chill passes through Fran like a ghost. ‘Jenna?’

Damian touches her lightly on the hand. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you like that. But it’s true, Fran. Your sister’s alive.’

Chapter 54

Now – two days later

JENNA

Jenna checks her phone for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s 3.21 p.m., two minutes since she last checked it. She stands up, crosses the room, picks a speck of fluff from the thin carpet and drops it into the bin. She turns in circles, trying to see her flat through a stranger’s eyes. It’s small, tired and threadbare, but it’s safe, it’s warm, it’s filled with love and it’s home. She moves towards the living room doorway then stops. There’s no need to check her reflection in the bathroom mirror again. She’ll look exactly as she did twenty minutes ago – tired, pale and scared. She looks at her watch again – 3.23 p.m. Is it too late to send a text saying not to come? Or maybe she could go out? She doesn’t have to answer the door.

Yes she does.

She sits down, jiggles her feet on the carpet, watches as her hands bounce around on her knees. A light tapping at the front door makes her jump.

Heart pounding, she slips out of the living room and walks through the narrow hallway to the front door. She pauses, breathing through her fear, then turns the handle.

‘Jenna!’ She only catches a glimpse of her sister – her short grey hair, her navy jumper, her wide, disbelieving eyes – before Fran reaches out and pulls Jenna close. Jenna’s hands flounder on her sister’s back as she’s hugged tightly, desperately, like she’s one step from falling and she’s been pulled back from the edge.

‘Let me look at you.’ Fran moves her grip to Jenna’s shoulders. Her eyes are shining behind her glasses, glinting with tears.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she says. ‘I can’t believe it’s really you.’

Sitting on the small sofa, their knees pressed together, Jenna gently extricates her hand from Fran’s.

‘Sweaty.’ She wipes it on her skirt then laughs as Fran does the same. ‘Isn’t this killing you, all this … touching?’

Now it’s Fran’s turn to smile. ‘You have no idea how many times people touched me on that bloody retreat. I’ll always hold it against you, you know, for putting me through that.’

‘I’m sorry.’