Outside, the clouds had turned the colour of coal. Nicky stood in the doorway of the building for a moment, knowing the heavens would open the minute she started up the cul-de-sac towards her car. And anyway, she was unsure where to head once she was back behind the wheel. She’d reached a dead end, literally. It was as Nicky had told herself: Melissa was a ghost. She’d lived her life that way for the past twenty years, and if she didn’t want to be found now, Nicky was always going to be chasing after shadows.

Suppressing her frustration, she raised the collar of her jacket and headed back towards the main road. Sure enough, halfway to her car, the rain began to fall, so hard and so fast that Nicky was soaked through within seconds. The wind had picked up, too, and the noise of the deluge was such that she almost didn’t hear her phone when it started ringing.

Her car was still some distance away, so she ducked into another doorway. She was expecting the phone call to be from Rob, and she braced herself to deliver her bad news: that, in terms of Melissa, and as things stood, there was nowhere else for them to go. But the number on the screen was one Nicky didn’t recognise.

‘Hello?’ she said into the mouthpiece, raising her finger to her other ear to block out the sound of the rain.

There was silence on the other end of the line. Either that or the connection had been lost. Nicky stole a glance at the screen to check the reception. The display showed four full bars. She was about to speak again when she heard a voice sounding faintly through the speaker.

‘Nicky?’

Nicky strained to hear. ‘This is Nicky,’ she responded. ‘Who is thi—’

But somehow she knew the answer before she’d even finished asking the question.

‘I heard you were looking for me,’ said the caller. ‘Please … I need your help.’

Ben – April 1997

(Three weeks before his death)

Ben wanted to be there when Melissa developed the pictures. For one thing, he had a vague notion he might be able to stop her seeing any that were too embarrassing. For another, after his run-in with the headmaster in the girls’ wing he was as eager as he’d ever been to get on with things. He couldn’t wait to see Harris’s face when it was over. Ben would teach him for accusing him of lying. For treating him like something he might have scraped off the sole of his shoe. And the same went for everyone else at Beaconsfield, too. One way or another, they would all be made to pay, just as Callum had promised.