Lumin leant forward slightly. ‘What is it?’ she’d whispered back.

‘I think we should go to Scotland. I think being there might spark some of your memories.’ Amber looked around her to check nobody was listening. ‘But as everyone thinks you might be under eighteen – which, frankly, we both know isn’t true – it means you can’t really come with me.’

Her shoulders had slumped.

‘However, I’ve never really cared about rules,’ Amber added. ‘And if you’re in this godforsaken place another day, I think you’ll wilt like those flowers.’ Lumin followed Amber’s gaze towards a jar of curled and brown roses. ‘I can’t let that happen.’

Lumin’s face lit up and it struck Amber just how beautiful she was. But then the smile had slipped from her face. ‘But I don’t want you getting into trouble, you’ve already done so much for me.’

Amber had leant forward. ‘Look in my eyes. See that? That’s the famous Caulfield Look. You know what that means?’

‘That you’re officially as nuts as I am?’ Lumin replied with a crooked smile.

‘Well, of course that. But it also means once I’ve made my mind up, there’s no changing it. So get whatever it is you need to have ready and we’re going to make a break for it when nobody’s looking.’

Amber had already written a note to leave behind, hoping she’d composed it in a way that would make the doctors and the police understand. She knew the risk she was taking. She knew she could get in big trouble. Plus she was leaving her shop in the hands of her mother and aunt. But she had nothing to lose.

And now, as they both sit in Amber’s car with the music blaring, Amber can’t help but smile. For once, she feels like she’s making a difference … even if the police might be looking for them right that minute. She wonders how Jasper will feel when he finds out. Maybe he’ll smile and think it’s a good thing.

Or maybe he’ll think I’m being irrational, she wonders. It was one of the words he’d used when she’d suggested they split up. ‘The grief has made you irrational, Amber. We love each other!’

Amber grips the steering wheel hard.

‘Where are we?’ Lumin asks.

‘Cumbria. The Lake District. It’s the pretty route to Scotland.’

‘It is pretty, especially in the snow,’ Lumin adds, gazing up at the white sheet of sky as small snowflakes begin to flutter down and land on the windshield, quickly disappearing as Amber wipes them away.

‘Just light snow. The heavy stuff isn’t forecast here for a few days.’

Lumin glances sideways at Amber’s steering wheel. ‘What’s that?’ she asks, gesturing at the plastic contraption fitted to it.