There was a stunned silence as a man stepped forward. Next to Thea, Harriet gulped in a big breath and then started clapping, her bracelets jangling, as others quickly copied her. A swell of applause spread around the room and the man, dark-skinned with a dandelion-clock puff of grey hair, acknowledged it with a smile, holding his hands out in a classic pose of modesty.

Harriet put a palm to her chest, her eyes shining and wide. ‘He’s actually here!’

Moses continued to smile and nod and wave and Delores looked on like a proud mother at a school concert. It seemed Delores wasn’t the real god, after all, just a disciple like the rest of them. The real god was wearing chinos and a button-down shirt.

Then, just as everyone’s hands began to sting and a few calls of ‘Speech!’ could be heard … he was gone.

A final wave, and he turned and stepped back out of sight. Delores came forward again and the clapping petered out, disappointedly.

‘I’d like to thank Moses for being here today. We know how much he values his privacy, and for him to come and see you here, well, that has been a huge privilege for us all; I’m sure you’d agree. Now, I won’t disturb your breakfast any longer. Please enjoy the rest of your day.’

The cafeteria hummed with whispered excitement. Thea felt oddly deflated. She hadn’t really imagined what Moses Ing would look like, but it had never occurred to her that he would look so … normal. She’d expected charisma and some sort of rock-star quality, or the opposite, twitchy and awkward. Not like an uncle on a log cabin holiday. But if he had managed to get to the island …

… then she could now leave. With Rosie.

Harriet grabbed her elbow and practically forced her into a seat at one of the tables. Today the older woman was wearing a cunningly draped dress that managed to look both informal and also absolutely killer, her blonde hair neatly scraped back into a golden shiny swirl of a ponytail.

She placed a mushroom coffee in front of Thea. ‘Good news. Tomorrow it looks like the weather’s going to briefly improve enough for a search party to the monastery, to find your ghost.’

Thea looked up from her coffee in shock. The search party was actually happening? She seriously considered hugging Harriet.

‘You know, everyone thinks you’ve lost it.’ Harriet glanced around to check who was listening. Thea reconsidered the hugging. ‘This whole face in the window thing – really? You seemed so much more stable than that. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.’

How to explain it: the mistrust that was creeping in like rust over old metal, so strong she could feel the tang of it in her mouth?