‘Please, Michael.’

Michael sighs. ‘Liberty, I never want to hide anything from you. And I know it’s driving you mad, me holding things back. But hurting you is the last thing I want to do today. And I just can’t bring myself to do it.’

‘I don’t care. I can deal with it. Whatever it is.’ I recross my legs, feeling rough bark on my bare knees and calves. ‘Whatever you have to say, I’m ready for it. I’ve spent a lifetime waiting.’

Michael sighs. ‘You’re persistent. Like your old man. But I don’t know where I’d even begin, to tell you the truth.’

‘At the beginning.’

‘The beginning. Okay. Maybe I can tell you a little of it. The beginning would start with … Lorna having cancer when she was your age. Did she tell you about that?’

‘Sort of. I mean, we don’t speak much about it. But she’s always telling me this causes cancer, that causes cancer.’

‘What kind of cancer did Lorna have, Liberty?’

‘Um … I don’t know. Terminal cancer? That’s what the hospital told her. But she pulled through. She got better.’

‘So Lorna didn’t tell you what kind of cancer she had?’

‘No.’

‘A bit unusual, don’t you think?’

‘I just assumed … you know, that Mum doesn’t like talking about it. Bad energy, or something.’

‘Let me ask you another question,’ says Michael. ‘Your mother has a lockbox in the house. Right? A safe. Something like that.’

I hesitate. ‘Yes. How did you know that?’

‘Call it a hunch. And here’s another hunch. Your mother doesn’t have precious jewellery. Nothing that would ordinarily be locked away?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘She’s not that sort of person.’

‘So what do you think she’d need a safe for? Since she’s not into diamonds and rubies or anything like that. You know your mother. Come on now, you’re a smart girl.’

‘She keeps our documents in the safe. Like … passports and stuff. Her medical records, I think. She wants to keep our life locked up in her safe little bubble. It’s just her mentality. You know? Lock it all up safe and—’

‘HEY, what’s going on over here?’ Cat Cannon stumbles over rough ground in high heels, coughing into her elbow. ‘This is supposed to be a party. Where’s my stage buddy?’

‘Just taking a break, Cat,’ says Michael.

‘You’re sixteen, right? You know my daughter went missing when she was about your age.’ Cat watches me for a second, then her face breaks into a thousand heartbroken pieces.

‘Hey.’ Michael hops to his feet and pulls her into a hug. ‘It’s okay. I know. She’ll turn up one day. All right? One day. She will.’