Clodagh was glad they’d been told to stay in their rooms. She couldn’t bear having to face the others, knowing they’d want to interrogate her about what she’d found on the beach. From the noises in the corridor, she knew they were going in and out of each other’s rooms. She imagined the conversations that were taking place, the facts around Nick’s death swollen and distorted with each retelling and embellishment. Words hanging in the air long after they’d been spoken: murder, foul play, suspicious. The current of fear running through every sidelong glance and whispered insinuation.

Because they were all scared. Terrified at the prospect of their personal lives being raked over in the press again, each one of them potential targets for a smear campaign. They already knew what it felt like to be part of a big news story, the harassment and intrusion and the constant sense of being watched and judged. None of them wanted that to start up again.

Like the other rooms in the villa, this one had French doors leading onto the garden. She had seen Ivan out there earlier, chain-smoking his way through a packet of cigarettes. She longed to go outside and join him, but she didn’t want to leave Adam, who was growing more wound up by the minute.

‘I can’t stand this much longer,’ he muttered now, looking up from his phone which he’d been scrolling through obsessively for the last half hour. ‘When is someone going to come and tell us what the hell is going on?’

So far, he’d divided his time pacing around outside, trying to peer over the garden wall at the activity on the beach and pacing around in here, complaining about the way they’d been treated.

‘There’s nothing we can do about it,’ Clodagh said. ‘Nick’s dead, Adam. The police have a job to do. Getting stressed isn’t going to speed things up.’

‘I know.’ Adam put his arm around Clodagh and hugged her tight. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just… I guess I can’t believe this has happened.’

Before Clodagh could reply, someone knocked on the door, making them both jump.

‘Adam? Are you in there? I need to speak to you.’

‘Tara,’ Clodagh said, recognising the voice. ‘What do you think she wants?’

‘Maybe a shoulder to cry on.’ Adam stood up. ‘I’ve been wondering how she’s doing. I’m glad she feels she can come to us.’

But when he opened the door, it was immediately clear that Tara hadn’t come looking for comfort.

‘This is your fault,’ she said, her voice low and angry as she pushed past Adam into the room.

Clodagh swallowed before answering, her hand instinctively patting the outline of the phone in her pocket as she remembered reading Nick’s text message last night.

‘Excuse me?’ she said.

‘Not you.’ Tara pointed at Adam. ‘Him.’