Bish glimpsed his mother sneaking a fag behind one of the cabins.

‘I can’t believe you’re still smoking,’ he said, taking the packet of cigarettes from her and removing one to light up. He could see that the day had taken its toll on her. With one chaperone dead and the other two unreliable, Saffron had made it her job to meet and greet any parent arriving from across the Channel. It was what she was accustomed to. Saffron Ortley was an old hand at taking care of households and dire situations in foreign countries. She’d just been rubbish at looking after her teenage son.

‘You should rest,’ he said.

Saffron shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave parents at the mercy of Gorman. Have you met him? Can I quote Bee and call him an idiot?’

‘Feel free.’

‘You’ve got to do something, Bish. These people are distraught. They want to take their children home.’

‘The authorities here need to collect as much information now as possible,’ he said. ‘If they let everyone go, they’ll never get to the bottom of what happened this morning.’

Saffron nudged him and pointed in the direction of the recreation hall. ‘Lucy Gilies.’

The young chaperone was sobbing hysterically in the arms of a girl no more than fourteen. The poor kid was looking around, lost and confused.

Bish and his mother approached and sent the girl back inside, leading Lucy away to the pool. Attal had just begun to allow some of the press in and Bish didn’t want the world media reporting that the British chaperone was a basket case.

‘Lucy, can you tell me about Violette Zidane?’ Bish asked.

Her crying intensified. Lucy knew exactly who Violette was.

‘Russell – Mr Gorman – came searching for the passports that were in my backpack. Someone must have grabbed it on the bus, because it was there in the recreation hall. I don’t remember taking it. I don’t remember much after the explosion.’

‘So you didn’t record the names and details on the list that did the rounds?’

‘No. Perhaps Mr Gorman. He ended up with the passports, and he contacted the embassy and read out all our names straight from them.’

Lucy nodded, as if getting clarity for the first time. ‘Within minutes he got a call back. Someone had recognised Violette’s name. Her tour documentation has her down as Violette Zidane, so that was her name on the roll. But her passport includes LeBrac.’

‘Where is she now?’ Bish asked.

Lucy was taking deep breaths and Saffron placed an arm around her.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ve had something to take the edge off. They were a horrid lot, the kids. Violette. All of them.’

Bish and his mother exchanged a look.

‘We never met any of Violette’s people at Dover,’ Lucy said. ‘Most of the older kids were unaccompanied, except for Bee. Violette said her family had moved to Deal last autumn. She had all the right documentation, sent from there. But they were fakes. According to Mr G’s contact at the embassy, she lives in Australia.’