“For what? You told her to tone it down, Sal, but she wouldn’t listen. You could hear her wherever she was in the complex, whining and complaining, making sure everyone heard. She was worse around the guests, speaking out of turn. You were right to distance yourself from her. Otherwise it wouldn’t just have been Ruth that Isaac called into his study …” Raj lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” I imagine Raj pulling Sally into his arms and pressing her against his broad chest. “We’re safe here, and I’ll make do with the food. We’ve still got the veg patch, the fruit trees and the chickens, and some of the goats are ridiculously fat. We’ll be fine.”

They fall silent again and I tentatively unfold my legs. Pins and needles shoot from my foot to my hip as I stretch the leg out but it’s too numb to control and my foot flies up and kicks the barrel opposite me. The catering-sized tin of kidney beans on top of it sways precariously and topples. My fingertips graze the base but it slips from my grasp and hits the floor with a clang. There’s a pause followed by the whisper of Sally’s anxious voice.

“Did you hear something?”

Rajesh laughs his low rumbling laugh. “Sorry, that was my stomach.”

“Are you sure? I thought—”

“Let’s go and sit by the river for a bit. Dr Raj’s orders.”

“But—”

“Come on, Sal.”

If Sally continues to protest, I don’t hear it as the sound of flip-flops on the wooden floorboards fades into the distance.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Present Day

“Jane, are you still in there?”

Chloe’s plaintive whine drifts under the toilet door.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

I’m crouched on an infant-sized toilet at Ringwald Street Primary School with my mobile phone in my hands. Seconds after I saw the Facebook notifications from Daisy’s account, Chloe zoomed out of the cat living room and pressed the two kittens into my hands. After I’d safely secured them back in their enclosures, she grabbed my hand and half led, half pulled me to Will’s car, insisting that I sit in the back with her. I tried to object, saying I’d brought my bike, but Will immediately offered to drop me back after the fair to pick it up.

“Jane, all the loom bands will be sold if you don’t hurry up.”

“Coming!”

My heart lurches into my mouth as the Facebook Messenger App opens.

Daisy.

The profile photo is tiny but I can tell it’s her. Small, heart-shaped face framed by a mane of blonde hair. Her head is tipped back and she’s laughing, a glass of champagne or Prosecco in her raised hand. There are four messages. I open them one after another.

Help me, Emma!

Click.

It’s so cold.

Click.