‘That’s more than this morning,’ Amber says gently. ‘That’s good.’

‘Not good enough though,’ the girl says, turning to look out at the window towards the sea.

‘We’ll get you there,’ Jasper says. ‘Have the police been yet?’

‘Tomorrow – they want to give me more time to remember,’ the girl replies. She puts her hand up to her dressing again. ‘Do you reckon they think someone deliberately hurt me? Is that why the police are coming?’

Amber tilts her head to one side. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘There’s no reason to think that,’ Jasper says softly. ‘Debris was found in your injury, according to the note, so there’s a chance it was just a fall.’

‘Debris could get there if someone injured me and I fell,’ the girl says.

Amber leans forward. ‘Have you remembered something?’

The girl’s eyes flicker and then she looks away, shrugging. ‘I don’t know,’ she mumbles.

Jasper’s pager buzzes. He looks at it and sighs. ‘I’m needed,’ he says, standing up. ‘But you’re in good hands with Amber. Keep me posted, won’t you?’ he asks Amber.

Amber nods, then turns back to the girl when he leaves. ‘Do you need anything? Another drink?’ she asks, reaching for the empty plastic cup on the table. As she does, she notices a small, dark leather notebook on it.

The girl follows her gaze. ‘They found that in my pocket. Not much use though. Just lots of notes about animals.’

‘Can I take a look?’ Amber asks.

The girl shrugs. ‘Sure.’

Amber picks it up and unwinds the leather string around it. She flicks through it. Its pages are crammed full of untidy writing alongside small pencil sketches of animals from penguins to polar bears to seals, all with notes written beneath them. There are dates at the top of some pages, ranging from 1989 to the present day. The girl wouldn’t have been born back then so it can’t be hers.

She goes back to the first page and reads it.

Ptarmigans are masters of adapting to their surroundings. Feathers will turn white in the winter to act as camouflage against the snow …

Chapter Four

Gwyneth

Audhild Loch

24 December 1989

Ptarmigans are masters of adapting to their surroundings. Feathers will turn white in the winter to act as camouflage against the snow.

I came across the frozen loch by accident on Christmas Eve, lost after driving back from six months of filming on the Orkney Islands. I’d hired a car after jumping off the ferry at freezing Scrabster, right on the northern tip of Scotland. The rest of the crew were flying back to London but I decided to go on a road trip, staying at different hotels along the way. It would be easy, my producer Julia had told me as she’d handed over a battered map.