Just inside the door of my suite, there is a neat pile of clothes on the floor. At first I think they are mine, though I didn’t leave them there and certainly not so neatly. Why would someone come into my room and do something like that? But when I look closer, I realize they’re not mine at all.

The colours are wrong. There are pinks, yellows and pale blues, the kind of colours favoured by Lola. My hand flies to my mouth and heart rate quickens as I move closer and realize what they are.

They’re hers. Lola’s. I pick up the hoodie on top of the pile and press it to my face. It still smells of her, her perfume which she always wears and never deviates from.

I put it to one side and sort through the others, which are all neatly folded as if taken directly from a cupboard. These clothes would have been over-sized and roomy on her, though they’d come up small on almost anyone else as she is so tiny. Not is. Was, I think, tears springing to my eyes. What state would her body be in now? Would there be anything left of her?

I push the thought away. I need to stay focused, not descend into wallowing in self-pity. She is gone, and there is nothing I can do about it now.

At the bottom of the pile are a couple of scarves, the winter kind which she would have had no call to wear out here in the Caribbean, but she must have brought with her for some reason. I don’t recognize them, but the perfume is the same. They must have been hers.

I pull on one of the jumpers – it’s too tight for me but it’s comforting to wear something of Lola’s – and wrap one of the scarves around my neck. I lie down on the bed, for a moment, calmer now as it almost feels like she is there.

But why would someone leave these in my room? Our tiny workers’ cabin was cleared of her belongings when we came into port, when it became apparent that she had gone missing. I was too distraught to think about it at the time – I’m not even sure who did it or where her things ended up. I wasn’t paying attention. By the time we were back on board, everything had gone and it didn’t occur to me to ask where. Lola was no longer here – that was all I cared about.

And even though wearing something of Lola’s feels almost like coming home, the fact that someone left these things here for me to find is a worry. Who would do that, and why? Is it some kind of prank? A sick joke? A warning?

Is it a message? What does it mean? Why would anyone do this?