Joyce and Scott. They were right here. Had they tagged along? Were they gatecrashers? Had they come in Krystal’s place because she was sick or drunk or stoned? They certainly weren’t Aaron’s mother or brother. And Krystal…I couldn’t remember seeing her, but I hadn’t really looked. Not after spotting Joyce.

I craned my neck to peer through the doorway again. Outside, Clive Cresswell was inspecting the troops. He’d stopped in front of Ali, who was smiling. Shaun stood nearby with a box of dog tags. He handed one of the tags to Clive, who gave it to Ali. Clive saluted. Ali saluted. Then Clive moved on to Connor while Ali slung the dog tag around his neck.

My gaze drifted away from the boys as I scanned the people watching them. Who had I missed last time? Not the copper in front. Not Flynn’s enthusiastic cheer squad. I noticed another police officer down the back—a woman—and a toothy couple whose toddler looked just like a miniature Matt Spiteri. There was also a very tall, balding man with a crumpled face, and a girl wearing a leather jacket and cornrows.

But I couldn’t see Krystal. Or Scott. The chair beside Joyce was empty now.

Clive was talking to Aaron. Head cocked, eyes darting, Aaron mumbled something as he received his dog tag, then returned Clive’s salute in a twitchy kind of way, shifting from foot to foot. When Clive proceeded down the row, Aaron flicked a glance at Joyce.

I followed his gaze and saw that she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at me.

Jake was the last boy in section one—and he didn’t receive a dog tag. I wondered if he was going to throw a wobbly. But all he did was salute Clive with an exaggerated flourish that seemed to take the piss out of everyone.

Clive kept moving. I scoured the audience again. Had Scott switched seats? Nope. He really had vanished. The restless group down the front cheered as Flynn Parata received his dog tag. He held it up and a big, shiny teenage girl who could have been his twin sister jumped to her feet, whooping and dancing. The Kollios family laughed and clapped. Zac’s father frowned.

Warren’s mouth twitched. Like Joe and Rhys, he was standing at ease near his section, blank-faced. But as soon as our eyes met, his brows snapped together.

I must have been as white as a sheet.

A quick check of the parade ground told me Scott wasn’t anywhere in it. Had he gone to the toilet? Was he trying to make a phone call? With a sick lurch I realised he could be coming around the back of the dining hall to accost me from behind.

That thought sent me skittering across the room, between tables loaded with tea cups and fruit platters, until I reached the western door.