‘It’s me, Tara. I need to see you. Nick told me—’

The voice was cut off by the cacophony of a loud buzzing and something that sounded like smashing glass, before the call abruptly ended. She’d sounded drunk, Clodagh thought, her chest tightening as she replayed the message in her head. What the hell had Nick told Tara?

She put her phone into her jeans pocket and continued walking, needing to move while she sorted out the different thoughts swirling around inside her head. As she’d done so many times before, she forced her mind to go back to the day of the crash, carefully examining every memory. Breakfast in the restaurant. Fruit and yoghurt, honey and sunshine. Coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. Something off about Vivienne. An edgy energy about her that Clodagh knew was a sign her sister was about to do something reckless.

Clodagh stopped walking. This memory was new. She closed her eyes, focused on the image of her sister’s face, sitting opposite her.

Vivienne took a sip of her coffee, her eyes scanning the restaurant like she was trying to find something. Or someone.

‘Is everything okay?’ Clodagh asked.

‘Fine.’

But Clodagh knew she wasn’t fine. She was jittery, distracted. Her red-painted fingernails were tapping the table, the sound so loud the couple at the next table kept looking over.

‘Can you stop that, Vee?’

‘Stop what? Oh. That.’ She curled her hand into a fist. ‘Sorry. Listen, Clo, I’m going to head off for a bit after breakfast. You’ll be okay without me?’

‘I’ve spent most of this holiday without you. I think I can manage one more day.’

The memory faded, replaced by the image of Nick’s dead body. Clodagh opened her eyes. Why had her brain made the connection between that final morning in Crete and Nick? Because he’d been staying at the same hotel, or was there another reason?

The holiday hadn’t turned out the way Clodagh had imagined. The week away was meant to be a chance for the two sisters to spend quality time together. Instead, Clodagh had spent most of it alone while Vivienne disappeared on walks or trips into town or wherever else she went when she wasn’t at the hotel.

‘Oh Vivienne,’ she said softly, ‘what were you up to?’

Luckily, Vivienne didn’t answer. If she had, Clodagh would have worried more than she already did about her own state of mind. Pushing down the memories of that last day in Crete, she took her phone out again and called Tara. When she got Tara’s voicemail, she left a short message:

‘It’s Clodagh returning your call. Can you call me back as soon as you can? Thanks.’