Thea shifted her weight uncomfortably though she refused to sit in the chair behind her. Her trainers were soggy from the snow and one foot had gone numb. She had the feeling that she should be doing something: something action-heroine style, not just meekly listening to Delores.

‘You have become a particularly sticky problem, do you know that? I believe you told Ms Stowe that your mother was retired from her activist days? Not quite true, hmm? She’s being a bit … vocal.’

The mention of her mother was a punch to Thea’s stomach that made her eyes water. If she had been by her side, Thea would have felt instantly smarter, stronger, braver but at the same time she wanted her mother as far away as possible from all of this. No megaphone, no placards, no petitions.

‘What have you done to her?’ Thea heard the crack in her voice.

‘Done?’ Delores frowned a little. ‘We have done nothing to her. What kind of business do you think we are? No, your mother may be vocal, but nobody really listens to her anymore.’ She attempted a smile that wasn’t successful. ‘You are lucky that you are special. Rare. It’s the only reason you are stood here and not …’

Delores came around from behind her desk and brought a cup with her, a dainty, fragile porcelain bowl filled with a fragrant, hot liquid. Thea took it but sniffed at it suspiciously, remembering from somewhere that cyanide smelled like almonds. Suddenly everyone wanted her to have a drink.

‘Drink the damn tea, Thea. If I’d wanted you dead, you would never have made it out of the lighthouse.’

‘Like Ethan?’

Steam curled up from her waiting cup. She drank the damn tea.

‘Really? We’re not in the business of murdering people, Thea. I saw how Ethan died and it was due to some glitch in those badly damaged discs. Deeply, deeply regrettable.’

Delores was quite close to her, but her face was marble and the expression carefully carved. It was like trying to work out if a statue was telling the truth. Thea put down her cup, then did her best impersonation of Delores’s icy cool.

‘I don’t think I believe that,’ she said. ‘And, you know what? I’m sick of being talked at. I’m done with listening quietly while you spin whatever story you’re believing today. Let’s start with Moses. The truth.’

Delores returned to her chair and sat down, unzipping her tall, spike-heeled boots before dropping them to the floor and massaging her feet.

‘As you wish.’ She took a sip from her own cup. ‘Are you going to sit?’

Thea’s legs made the decision for her – she crumpled into the chair, a bright shaft of sunlight instantly slicing into her eyes. She squirmed out of its glare.