‘I know.’ Another pause. ‘They’ve released Verity’s diaries.’ Alice nods towards a pile of books, ranging from exercise books to leather-bound hardbacks, stacked on her father’s desk in the corner.

‘The ones they found at the house?’

‘Mmm, they arrived this morning. As her next of kin they came to me.’

‘Have you read any of them?’ His eyes are fixed on the books.

‘I skimmed through a few, but it makes for difficult reading.’

‘Does it say whether Verity killed her father?’

‘Not exactly, though she mentions pushing his body into the sea – can you imagine that? She was just a kid.’ A pause. ‘I need to put the diaries in the loft,’ she says. ‘I can’t carry on reading, it’ll break my heart.’

‘Oh, Alice.’ Leon takes her in his arms. ‘I’m sorry this is so hard for you.’

She rests her head against his chest for some time, tears spilling down her cheeks.

*

After they’ve eaten, Leon and Alice head into the lounge and snuggle on the sofa together. Henry stretches blissfully by the fire.

She clicks on the TV, bringing up Netflix, and hands the remotes to Leon, knowing he likes to scroll through the endless options.

Despite everything that has happened – the trauma of what took place at Flynn Hotel, the loss of her father, the fact Leon kept things from her – something good has come from the horrific nightmare. She knows what she wants from life, and that her father would want her to make every moment count.

She looks up at Leon and smiles. He kisses her hair.

Epilogue

1994

Hugh

Hugh drove for miles, staying on familiar roads as he travelled through Ipswich and Colchester, the pain in his side easing the further from Flynn House he got. Eventually, he pulled into a lay-by on the outskirts of London, to check his wound. It didn’t seem as bad as he first thought. The knife had missed any organs, and because of the little girl’s lack of strength and size, the blade hadn’t gone deep. It was nasty, yes, but not life-threatening. He unbuttoned and removed his shirt, stripping down to the blood-soaked T-shirt beneath. He ripped the shirt to bandage-sized pieces, and pressed the fabric against his injury.

‘Tiger?’ The voice in the back of the car was tiny, hopeless. He looked over his shoulder, where blue eyes stared up at him from a drawn, pale face. ‘Where’s Tiger?’

‘We won’t be seeing Tiger again, sweetheart.’ Tears burned his eyes. ‘Tiger is staying with Verity.’

‘Verity,’ the girl said, and her heavy lids fell over her eyes once more.