‘I normally close the dining room by nine,’ Ruth says coming through the door from the back of the house, her tone spiky. She’s been popping back and forth clearing the table for the last ten minutes, huffing – making it clear we’ve outstayed our welcome. ‘Can’t you take your chatter to one of your cottages?’

‘Or,’ I say, ‘you and Finn could join us.’ I beckon them, take a gulp of my fourth glass of wine, knowing I shouldn’t drink any more.

Finn looks at his mum as though for approval.

‘For Christ’s sake, Finn, you must be in your thirties. Surely you don’t have to ask your mum for permission.’

Ruth narrows her grey eyes.

‘I’m so sorry, we’re holding you up,’ Rosamund says, smiling at Ruth, and goes to rise. I need to strike now. I lean across the table with a jolt, grab the sleeve of her jumper, and stare into her eyes. ‘Why exactly are you here?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Here at Drummondale House on the anniversary of Lark’s disappearance? It’s no coincidence. It can’t be.’

She lowers her head. ‘No, you’re right, Amelia.’

The door that leads to the back of the house slams shut, and I look up to see Finn and Ruth have left.

‘Well?’ I say, eyes back on Rosamund.

‘If you let go of my jumper, I’ll tell you.’

I realise my knuckles have turned white, and unclench my fingers.

‘I heard on Maddie’s vlog that you were all coming here. I wanted to see you. Put things right.’

‘But you never once contacted my mum after Lark vanished. She needed a friend, and you weren’t there for her.’

‘No, and I’m sorry. The truth is I couldn’t cope with watching her die.’ Her eyes fill with tears. ‘I know I was selfish then, and I’m selfish now, but … well … I need closure. Her loss haunts me.’ She dashes a tear from the corner of her eye with her finger. ‘I thought if I was to see you all, ask you to forgive me, it would help. I wasn’t there for her, and I can’t forgive myself.’ She looks at her watch. ‘Oh God, I should get back to Elise,’ she says, grabbing her coat, and putting it on. She fumbles in her pocket and brings out her gloves. She’s about to put them on when I pick up on the low ring of her phone. She pulls it from her pocket, and presses the screen.

‘Hello, darling,’ she says, pinning the phone to her ear. ‘Calm down, sweetheart, talk slowly, the line’s dreadful.’ Another pause, longer this time. ‘Oh, Elise, please, not this again, you know what your father said. You have to stop—’

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ I say.