She leans against a tall wooden post and gets out her phone. She looks worse than preoccupied, I realize with a lurch. She looks desperate. Who’s she texting, Alicia?

As my own phone bleeps, I hastily back away, well out of sight. I’m fully expecting a text from Mum, or Luke, or even Danny—but it’s from Tarquin.

Hi Becky. Just checking in. Is Suze OK?

I stare at the phone in sudden outrage. No, she is not OK. She is not OK! I jab at Tarkie’s number and retreat into a tent full of homemade preserves.

“Becky?” Tarquin sounds surprised I’ve phoned. “Everything all right?”

“Tarkie, do you have any idea what we’re going through?” I practically scream. “Suze is utterly miserable, we’re staking out some guy at a county fair, my mum has no idea what my dad’s been up to—”

“You’re not still on that, are you?” Tarquin sounds shocked.

“Of course we are!”

“Can’t you give your dad some privacy, for God’s sake?” Tarquin sounds quite angry. “Can’t you trust him?”

I’m drawn up short. I hadn’t thought of it like that. And just for a moment, I feel chastened—until my blood starts boiling again. It’s all very well for these blokes to rush off on their mission, thinking they’re all cool and hero-like. What about those of us left behind, who thought they were dead?

“Couldn’t he trust my mum?” I counter furiously. “Couldn’t you trust Suze? You’re married! You should share things!”

There’s silence, and I know I’ve touched a nerve. I want to say more. I want to wail, Be happy with Suze! Be happy!

But you can’t interfere in another couple’s relationship. It’s like trying to step inside a cloud. The whole thing kind of dissipates, till you get back out again.

“Anyway, you can’t follow us anymore,” says Tarkie, after a painful pause. “The three of us have split up. There’s nothing to follow.”

“You’ve split up?” I stare at the phone. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve all gone our separate ways. I’m helping your dad out with…” He hesitates. “Something. He’s doing his own thing. Bryce has disappeared, God knows where.”

“Bryce has disappeared?” I say in shock.

“Left last night. No idea where.”

“Oh, right.”

I feel totally wrong-footed. After all that. Bryce hasn’t ensnared Tarquin in his evil plan at all. He hasn’t brainwashed him or fleeced him or even made him start selling time-shares. He’s just buggered off.

“Becky, go back to L.A.,” says Tarquin, as though reading my mind. “Call off the search. Give it up.”

“But we might be able to help you,” I persist. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

Let us in! I feel like shouting. Please!

“We don’t need your help,” says Tarquin adamantly. “Tell Suze I’m OK. I’m helping your dad. I’m feeling useful for the first time in…forever. I’m going to do this, OK? And I don’t need any interference from you or Suze. Bye, Becky.”

And with that, he rings off. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life. I want to cry with frustration, or at least savagely kick a barrel.