“OK, I’ll do it. But, Becky, you’re going to have to tell Suze sometime that you spoke to Tarquin. These things have a habit of coming out.”

“I know.” I nod fervently. “I will. But I can’t right now. She’ll murder me.”

“What else did he say?”

“Not a lot. My father’s a good man, apparently.”

“Well, we knew that.” Luke laughs at my expression. “Becky, cheer up. It’s good news, remember? A day ago we thought Tarquin had been kidnapped and left for dead.”

“Yes, but it’s all so complicated.” Dolefully, I select a pain au chocolat, an almond croissant, and a Danish whirl. I’ll put one in my bag for later, in case Minnie needs a snack. “And what do we do now? You know what I think? If Tarkie’s fine and Dad doesn’t want us to find him, I think we should just go home.”

“Right.” Luke nods thoughtfully. “Good point. Do you want to say that to your mother or shall I?”

—

OK, so that was a nonstarter. I should have realized Mum was never going to agree to go home in a million years. By the end of what you could call an “animated discussion” (the waitstaff had to ask us to keep it down), we’ve reached a compromise. We’ll go to see Dad’s other old friend, the one in Tucson. Raymond Earle. And if we can’t find anything out from him, we’ll go back to L.A. and wait for Dad to return.

Whereupon, no doubt, Dad will refuse to say what he was up to. And it will be one of the great unsolved puzzles of our time. And Mum will nearly expire in rage. But, as Luke keeps telling me, that’s not my problem.

We’re all up at the buffet again now, having a last go-round. I can’t believe I’m putting yet more food on my plate, but there’s just so much. Every time you think I’ve had everything, you turn a corner and see some huge pile of fresh waffles, or chicken skewers, or chocolate-covered strawberries, and a bit of your brain shouts, I’ve paid for this! I need to eat it! even while the other bit is moaning, I’m full! Take it awaaaay!

I pour a glass of milk for Minnie and glance over at Suze, who’s getting some juice on the other side of the counter. My whole body is tense with guilt. I’ve never had secrets from Suze before.

Well, except the odd tiny one, like that time I borrowed her Monsoon top and it wasn’t even hers and she only found out years later. But apart from that.

Alicia is taking some slivers of pineapple from a fruit display, and as I watch, Luke approaches her, his phone in his hand.

“Oh, Alicia,” he says, sounding casual. “Just heard a bit of gossip on the grapevine. Chap didn’t want me to let on who he was, but he has it on good authority that Bryce Perry is intending to set up a rival establishment to Golden Peace.”