‘Robert feels there may be something we missed that night. I’m not sure what to think, but I’ll keep you updated. Wish us luck!’

‘You’re wasting your time, Maddie,’ you say. And of course, you are right.

The sound of your laptop snapping closed brings me back to reality. Maddie isn’t there at all. You were listening to her vlog.

I close my eyes, fatigue washing over me, my usual thoughts carrying me to nightmares: How did I let this happen? How could I have been so stupid?

*

I have no idea how long I’ve slept, but I’m now alone, and the place is in darkness. I shuffle up the bed, ears pricked on alert for the sound of tyres rolling over the ice-packed ground. My sore, watery eyes pinned on the window, waiting for a glimpse of your car’s headlights to cut across the grubby glass. But it’s silent, and I wonder if you’ve gone back there – back to Drummondale House.

Chapter 1

Present Day

Amelia

He took her. Jackson Cromwell – my mother’s lover. He took my teenage sister. He took Lark from us. I know he did. And sometimes, looking back – eyes wide open – I wonder if I should have reacted when I saw the way he looked at her, the way he flirted.

It’s the anniversary of her disappearance this Friday. Twelve long months of not knowing where Lark is – whether she’s alive or dead.

My ex-partner William couldn’t cope with my outpourings of grief following my sister’s disappearance. It couldn’t have been easy for him listening to me repeat the same tragic words, desperate to explore my feelings, desperate to cope with what had happened. I went from numb to feeling too much, to numb again, all with the aid of too much wine.

In fact, I still hadn’t come to terms with her loss when, seven months later, my mum died. Imagine a car wreck – well that was me in human form.

But a few weeks after her funeral, life took an upward turn. I discovered I was pregnant. For three months a tiny baby had been growing inside me and I’d been too swept away by grief overload to realise. It was a miracle, and for the first time in ages, bubbles of happiness fizzed.

‘It can’t be mine,’ William said, when I broke the news over his favourite meal of guinea fowl and gnocchi.

‘Of course it’s yours,’ I said, placing the little stick telling me the best news ever onto his side plate, and trying to smile despite his tactless comment.

‘That’s got your pee on it, Amelia,’ he said, pushing it away. ‘Are you positive it’s mine?’

‘OK, for one …’ I held up my index finger ‘… I’ve only slept with you in all the time I’ve known you. And two …’ I burst into tears.