‘We’re to believe the words of this woman above the word of our Council?’ The gallery avoids her gaze; they look at their feet. ‘A woman who plays with the Devil’s cards, who rants in the street, who spits in the faces of our men?’ They shake their heads slowly – children chastised. ‘She is nothing but a bitter spinster with a vendetta against those who have what she wants. To believe her is to believe the ramblings of a madwoman.’

Leah tightens her jaw, keeps her head high, but mutinous tears fall down her cheeks.

Diana Crane brushes herself down and cuts a purposeful path across the room to stand beside her husband once more – marking this victory.

‘Then believe me instead.’

Britta Sayers sways at the edge of the stage.

‘We killed a boy,’ she says. ‘We did it to bring the authorities to the island. Bethany Reid killed herself because the same thing was happening to her, but we killed a boy.’

Jade-Marie steps forward and fumbles for her friend’s hand, gripping it. ‘We thought if we could lure Luke Signal to the stones and… kill him,’ she says, ‘then people would at last pay attention to what was going on.’

‘He took pictures of us, you see,’ Anna speaks. ‘Pictures he shouldn’t have taken. That’s why we chose him. And because he tried to make Viola have sex with him, and because… because…’

She trails away and Viola understands why. None of it sounds just; it all sounds impossible. How can the telling of the final score ever convey the emotion of the game?

‘We had to kill someone, just someone,’ Viola says, coming forward to complete the line-up. ‘Believe me.’

‘See!’ blusters Dr Bishy. ‘See!’

‘Guilty!’ Mr Crane attests.

The gallery can only nod, but the verdict feels uncertain, weak.

There is silence, then:

‘Also believe me!’

Hannah Pass stands on the opposite side of the Earl to Leah, inhaling deeply as the whole room swings its attention to her. Viola provides the encouraging nod Hannah needs to continue.

‘I have always suspected that the Countess left the island, and her husband –’ Hannah takes the hand of the man beside her in his wheelchair ‘– to save their eldest daughter from the attentions of the doctor.’

‘No!’ says Elizabeth Bishy. ‘Don’t listen to that woman.’

‘I will be heard,’ says Hannah. Viola and the Eldest Girls band closer together on the edge of the stage, the very edge. ‘The Earl remained in his position here but he lost in his struggle to turn the island, to steer it into clearer waters, and he has become ill as a result.’ Hannah swallows hard. ‘I have a fourteen-year-old daughter,’ she says, ‘and every day I think: I must leave. I must leave, because I can’t keep her safe.’

There is no time to react – another voice rises up.