—

As I stride toward the ceramics tent, my mind is miserably whirling. I don’t know why I wouldn’t let Suze get me the cowboy boots. I know she could easily afford to. Am I punishing her? Or am I punishing myself? Or am I punishing…er…

Actually, I don’t know who else I could be punishing. All I know is that Suze is right: I’m a bit messed up inside. I got it all wrong with my job, with Dad, with everything—I feel like I’ve made mistake after mistake without even realizing it. And then, as I reach the ceramics tent, it suddenly hits me: I’m scared. Deep down, I’m scared I’m going to screw up even more. Some people lose their nerve for riding or skiing or driving; well, I’ve lost my nerve for life.

The ceramics tent is far more crowded than before, and it takes me a little time to find Danny, sitting in the corner. He has his sketchbook open and is drawing an outfit, totally absorbed. I can see more sketches piled up by his feet, and it looks like he’s been at it awhile. Isn’t he keeping a lookout for Raymond at all?

“Danny!” I say, and he jumps. “Any sign of Raymond? Are you watching?”

“Sure.” He nods alertly. “I’m on it.” He focuses on the crowd in the tent for a few seconds—then his gaze drifts down and his pencil starts moving again.

Honestly. He is so not on it.

“Danny!” I plant a hand on his sketch. “What happened to staking out the tent? If Raymond walked past right now, would you notice?”

“Jeez, Becky!” Danny raises his eyes to heaven. “Face it, Raymond’s not coming. If he wanted to be here, he’d be here. All the other artists are here.” He gestures around the tent. “I chatted with them. They said Raymond hardly ever shows up.”

“Well, still. We should at least try.”

But Danny isn’t listening. He’s drawing a belted dress with a cape, which actually looks amazing.

“You carry on with your sketches,” I say with a sigh. “Don’t worry about Raymond. I’ll stake out the tent.”

“I’m off duty?” Danny’s eyes light up. “OK, I’m getting a drink. Catch you later.” He gathers up his sketches, stuffs them into his leather portfolio, and heads off.

As he disappears, I turn my attention to the people in the tent. My eyes are narrowed and I feel on red alert. It’s all very well, Danny saying Raymond won’t turn up—but what if he does? What if it’s all down to me to discover the secret? If I could do that, if I could actually achieve something…maybe I wouldn’t feel so pointless.

I check the photo of Raymond on my phone and scan the faces around me, but I can’t see him anywhere. I circle the tent a few times, weaving through the crowd, looking at all the pots and plates and vases. I quite like a cream-colored bowl with red splatters, but as I get near I see it’s called Carnage, and my stomach turns. Are those red splatters supposed to be…