I recall how certain Mum was that Lark and Jackson’s disappearance weren’t connected. Had she thought Jackson had walked out on her? Planned to be with Rosamund? Had she been too proud to tell us what she saw? A surge of anger threads through my veins. Why the hell had she kept quiet about something that could have helped find Lark?

I head to the kitchen and make some strong coffee. I need a boost of caffeine, and to feel totally sober. I sit for some time at the kitchen table, sipping the warm liquid, my mind whirring back to that night at Drummondale House, and I’m suddenly there, sitting in the wing-backed chair at the bedroom window, seeing the flash of white, the figure in the trees. Had it been someone hanging up the masks? Elise? She was certainly obsessed with them. What if she’d seen Rosamund betray her father? What if she’d decided, a year later – now older, taller, stronger – that it was time to take revenge on Rosamund?

Rosamund had said Elise was in her bedroom the night Ruth was murdered. Ruth had been wearing Rosamund’s fur bed jacket. Had Elise mistaken Ruth for her stepmother? Sometimes revenge is the only way – that’s what Elise had said when they’d played Truth or Lie.

Was Elise still out there waiting to take her revenge on Rosamund?

But why did Maddie have to die? Where was Elise now? How did she get away from Drummondale House?

OK, yes there are loose ends, but my main concern is for Rosamund’s safety, even if she had betrayed my mum.

Had Elise left the mask on her stepmother’s doorstep? If she’d tried to kill her at Drummondale House, what was to stop her trying again?

I reach for my phone. I need to call her. Warn her. Let her know she could be in danger.

Chapter 47

Present Day

Amelia

I go to grab my mobile as it vibrates on the coffee table.

‘Thomas,’ I say once my phone’s pressed against my ear. Should I tell him my suspicions?

‘I’ve met an old mate, so Dad is about to head home. He wants to know if you fancy fish and chips.’ He sounds relaxed. Happy. I decide to say nothing.

‘Some chips maybe.’ I pray my brother doesn’t twig there’s something up.

‘Cool,’ he says, clearly not registering the wobble in my voice. ‘See you later.’ He ends the call, and I fumble with the phone, searching for Rosamund’s number.

‘Amelia, how lovely,’ she says when the call goes through.

‘Rosamund. Listen.’ My stomach leapfrogs. ‘I need to talk to you. It’s really important.’

‘Calm down, you sound like you might pop—’

‘It’s just—’

‘Hang on, I’m on hands-free and keep losing you—’

‘Pull over somewhere, Rosamund. This is really important—’