Tor realises that her phone is vibrating too. She picks it up and reads the message from Dominica and her smile fades.

‘Oh God,’ she says, reading her message.

Maddy is reading it too, already getting up. She knocks over her wine. ‘Oh … oh …’

‘She’s got Jamie. Oh … oh!’ Claire says, putting her hand over her mouth. She stares up at Maddy who lets out a little yelp. The atmosphere around them changes, the other people in the pub turning to their table.

‘Keep calm,’ Tor says, seeing her about to lose it.

‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ Maddy cries. She’s shaking.

‘Listen, we’ve got to act quickly,’ Tor says.

Claire looks as if she’s sobered up very quickly. ‘I’ll call the coastguard.’

‘I’ll call the police,’ Maddy says. ‘And a cab … I need a cab … a cab …’ Her voice has risen hysterically.

‘I’m going now,’ Tor says. ‘Right now. I’ll see you there.’

Tor has Lotte’s bike with her and even before Maddy has got through to the police, she’s already hotfooting it to the pier. She’s hoping Maddy will be ahead of her, but she’s the first to arrive at the entrance to the pier, with its boarded up food vendors and big black gates.

Where the hell is the security when you need it? Tor thinks, getting off her bike and rattling the gates. The pier is closed and there’s no one around.

‘Hello? Anyone?’ she shouts through the gaps, but the pier is dark. ‘Shit.’

She looks for a way onto the pier, but here, from the front, there’s no way. She goes past the telephone box, quickly locking up her bike to the balustrade and racing down the steps. The pier looks huge, rising out of the sea on a lattice of black metal. The Palace Pier lights are off, only a few security lights eerily lighting up the dome and the silhouettes of the rides at the end. She runs down the rest of the steps to beach level.

She’s going to have to climb up. She clambers onto the nearest hut, then on all fours, across the roof of the next building. She’s going to have to stretch it, but she crosses the gap and her fingers find the edge of the pier. Thank God her fingers are working today and she’s not in the middle of a flare-up.

‘Don’t look down,’ she tells herself, dangling precariously in mid-air for a moment.

Then she’s on the pier and swinging over the railing. She’s sweating and panting as her feet touch down on the wooden boards. She waves up at the CCTV cameras. Hopefully someone is watching. Hopefully someone can help.

She checks the WhatsApp again. Is Dominica still talking to Jamie? She messages to say she’s here. Dominica texts back straight away: ‘He’s at the end, I think.’

Tor sprints along the gang plank. It always makes her feel queasy, looking down the gaps between the boards to the sea below. It’s eerily quiet, the white doughnut stalls ghostly in the dark. The bellies of the gulls are white against the sky. A yellow moon throws a runway of light across the dark sea below. She runs past the lurid front of the ghost house, past the roller coaster and the waltzers, but there’s no sign of Jamie. She stands by the end ride – the giant yellow arm towering above her. Where is he?