Faith and Alice head back to the ladies’, leaving Leon and Christine in reception.

‘Lori? Are you OK in there?’ Alice calls, her head close to the cubicle door. She crouches once more and peers underneath. ‘Her bag is still there.’ She rises, using the door for support, and it eases open. ‘Lori?’ She looks round the door. ‘Oh God, where is she?’

‘What the …?’ Faith cries from behind her.

Alice covers her mouth with her hands. There’s a small window behind the loo, but hardly big enough for Lori to climb out of. And anyway, why would she?

Faith, eyes wide, spins round and bangs open the other cubicle.

Feeling cool air on her neck, Alice turns. ‘Was the window open when you came down here earlier?’ She can’t recall if it was when she was there before.

‘I don’t think so.’ Faith moves towards it, bites down on her lower lip. It’s only open a few inches, but it isn’t latched. It’s big enough to climb through.

Alice pads across the room, approaches the open window. Her head spins. Has Lori climbed out? Has she left of her own accord through this window, or has someone taken her?

She thinks back to when Lori didn’t respond when she called out earlier. Had she been lying in the cubicle then? Had someone attacked her? Cameron? Mitch? Gabriela? Everyone is suddenly a suspect. And worse, did Alice miss her cry for help?

She pushes open the window, letting a whoosh of cold air in. Looks out into the darkness, a shiver trailing down her spine as she scans the area. There’s no sign of her.

‘The window’s cracked,’ Faith says, and Alice’s gaze moves back to the glass. There’s a smear of blood on the frame. She goes to touch it, but Faith grabs her hand, and pulls it back.

‘Don’t,’ she says. ‘The police will be here soon. It’s evidence.’

Chapter 32

1994

Tiger

I still don’t see Daddy much, and that makes me sad. But Aunt Verity says he loves me, and I must believe that, and never forget it. One day, she says, he will wake up and smell the roses, and we will all live happily ever after as a family. The trouble is, I do worry about this very much, because there are no roses at Flynn House, and there are no roses in Daddy’s garden either. There are only spiky, stingy bushes that prickle and burst my skin, and the poisonous white flowers with purple blotchy stems that I must never ever touch.