I thought back to the party. Went over everything. Relived handing around drinks. That man saying those things. Max being kind. Making me feel better. It must have been the moment she saw us in the kitchen. Jumped to the wrong conclusion. My lungs constricted as I had a vivid recollection of the raven on the roof, its black marble eyes tunnelling into me. My vision swirled. I looked down at the envelope beside my bed. Edie’s handwriting moved in and out of focus. My hand quivered as I reached out for it.

Mum came back in. She held two glasses, one murky with Dispirin, one clear. I tucked the letter beneath my pillow. She passed me the glass of cloudy water, Dispirin granules sitting in a fine layer at the bottom like silt, and I swallowed it down, then allowed her to help me into bed. She leant over and put the second glass on the bedside table. I watched as its surface wavered in search of stillness.

‘Try to get some sleep,’ she said. ‘I’ll be up to check on you in a bit.’

As soon as she left I reached beneath my pillow for the envelope.

Dear Tamsyn.

I’m so sorry. Didn’t I tell you she was a lunatic??! Don’t worry about anything she says. I know it’s not true. You can’t come here anymore, but I want to see you and make sure you’re alright. Shall we meet at Cape Cornwall this afternoon? I’ll be there at three o’clock.

Please come!!!

All my love, Edie.

You can’t come here anymore.

Seeing it in black and white, knowing Mum wasn’t lying, made me feel like dying. My body seized up, the tips of my fingers and toes became numb as my lungs clamped. My breathing tightened and panic took hold of me. I thought of my father and me swimming that day. His laugh. The feel of him as I’d looped my arms around his neck and he’d swum me through the water. The last moments before my world was torn apart. The time I’d spent at The Cliff House had made these last few weeks the happiest I could remember since he drowned. I couldn’t let her keep me from it. I had to make her understand nothing was going on with Max and me. The thought of not being there physically hurt, an inexplicable throb in the pit of my stomach, my head aching as if a blade was piercing it.

Edie.

Edie would help me make things better. The letter was a life raft. She still wanted to see me. I imagined her sitting down to write it, folding the sheet of paper carefully, then slipping it into the envelope. I saw her kissing the letter as she sealed it, then giving it to my mother and begging her to deliver it.