She nods. ‘Quite a trek up here,’ she says, turning, and I follow her into what appears to be another lounge. As well as two more sofas, there’s a computer on a desk laden with graphic drawings, a piano by the window, and a huge TV paused on an episode of Fleabag. There’s a cushion in the middle of the floor, which I guess is for Julia’s meditation. But there’s no sign of Elise having been here.

I walk towards the window and look out. ‘Did you see the man in the mask?’ I ask.

‘Is it on Netflix?’

I turn and stare at her, wondering if she’s joking, though knowing she can’t be. ‘Someone wearing a mask looked over the wall about five minutes ago.’

‘Good God, that is creepy. Are you sure?’

I nod, catching sight of Dad through the window, coming out of the summerhouse. He looks about him before pulling the door closed and heading for the house. He must have found a key.

‘Did you walk to the bench yesterday, Julia?’ I say, spinning round.

‘Kyla’s bench?’

I nod. ‘It’s just there were footprints leading from the farmhouse?’

She shakes her head. ‘That would have been Finn. He—’

‘Amelia!’ I look behind me to see Rosamund heading into the room. ‘I’ve been all over the house. There’s no sign of Elise.’

‘Do you remember Julia, Rosamund? She was here when Lark and Jackson disappeared.’

‘Not really,’ she says, barely looking at Julia. ‘Where are the others?’

‘I’ve looked around the summerhouse and garden.’ It’s Dad appearing in the doorway, his cheeks red from the cold.

‘Did you find a key?’ I say.

‘Yes, under the plant pot. There’s no sign of Elise.’

‘We should get back,’ I say, pulling on my hat. ‘Where’s Finn?’ I hate that I’m growing suspicious of everyone. ‘Has anyone seen him?’

They shake their heads.

‘Come with us to the holiday cottages, Julia,’ I say. ‘You really shouldn’t be here alone.’

She’s silent for a moment, as though her mind is processing my words. ‘I’m not afraid,’ she says.

‘Well you should be. There’s a killer out there.’

‘I would rather stay. I feel safe here. Anyway, I need to care for the cat.’

I think about my little cat at home, hoping the woman with the pink hair isn’t spoiling her too much and she’ll still love me on my return. But, if I’m honest, being in London feels like a lifetime ago.

‘Amelia?’ It’s Finn voice, and I know by the way it echoes he’s heading through the conservatory. ‘Robert?’

‘In here,’ Dad calls, and Finn appears, his eyes darting to each of us in turn.

‘Where have you been?’ I say.