‘Neil,’ Dad cuts in. ‘Robert Taylor here. Listen, what are the cops going to do? Are they coming up here anytime soon?’

‘Robert.’ Neil sounds wrong-footed, and I suspect he hadn’t realised he was on speakerphone – that others could hear the conversation. ‘Inspector Beynon said they are having difficulty reaching you. The roads are treacherous, but the ploughs are out, and the coastland rescue helicopter will be heading up there once it’s stopped snowing.’

‘They need to get up here as soon as possible.’ Dad’s voice is calm, but his eyes are red, his knees bouncing.

‘Don’t you think I know that?’ Neil yells.

‘All right, mate. Calm down.’

‘Yeah, that’s easy for you to say, your daughter isn’t missing.’

Dad lowers his head, and covers his mouth, as though holding in the words he wants to say.

‘Christ,’ Neil says. ‘Sorry, Robert, I didn’t think, it’s just—’

‘Every second is important when a child goes missing,’ Dad goes on, and I know he’s struggling. ‘Get on to Inspector Beynon again. Get help, Neil. We’re depending on you.’

The line goes dead, and Rosamund picks up her phone, looks at the screen. ‘I’ve got a text as well,’ she says, furrowing her forehead as she presses the screen. ‘Oh God.’

‘What?’ I ask, and she hands me the phone:

I told you you shouldn’t have brought Elise to Drummondale House, but you didn’t listen.

*

After a long spell of quiet, Rosamund rises, and places her empty cup on the table. ‘I don’t really want to go back to my cottage,’ she says. ‘But I need to collect my holdall. I’m lost without it.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ I say, rising too. Any excuse to get away from the confines of this overcrowded lounge.

‘Me too.’ Maddie is up and putting on her ski suit before we can say anything. But I’m pleased she’s coming. I want to trust Rosamund, trust everyone here, but one of them could be a killer.

The three of us walk across the untrodden snow towards Honeysuckle Cottage, and as we get closer, the thought of going back inside seems like a dreadful idea.

‘Are you sure you can’t get by without your holdall?’ I say to Rosamund, who is ahead now, taking long strides.

She glances back. ‘I need my iron tablets, and my moisturising cream for my stomach – I dread getting stretch marks.’

I’m taken aback that she can even think about stretch marks at a time like this, but I stay quiet.

Once inside the cottage, Rosamund heads up the stairs at quite a speed, as though she’s forgotten about the blood, about what happened up there.

Maddie and I stay near the door. ‘Is there a lot of blood?’ she says, her eyes skittering around the room.

‘A fair bit, yes. It’s OK, there’s none down here.’