“Tell me where you are, my darling. Tell me you’re alive.”

She looks up at the birds in the sky above the wood, but the tilt of her head makes her dizzy and she puts a steadying hand on the wire. A certainty comes, as if from nowhere, that Sorrel is alive, she is waiting, she isn’t far. It’s as though she has left a trace in the air, touched the trees, or leaned against the fence. Eve closes her eyes; minutes go by, lost in prayer.

A car horn rips into the silence. Through the trees she can see the Mercedes pulling up in the drive. Paul’s car, delivering Poppy from school. It was supposed to be Grace’s turn, not his, and he is clearly annoyed. She must rescue Poppy from that impatience. Eve begins to run through the wood, across the meadow and toward the house, but it’s Melly who gets out of the car, not Paul, and no one is with her. Something has happened to her face, it’s a different shape and color. She is shouting and crying at the same time, though Eve can’t make out the words. Eric comes out of the barn at a run, Igor following him. Melly is behind the car as Eve approaches.

“. . . rolling from side to side. None of the keys seem to work.” She rattles each in the lock. “I think I’ve seen him using his phone, he’s probably got a special app; he’s paranoid about security—”

Eric turns to Igor. “Crowbar. Length of steel. Anything.”

For a big man Igor moves swiftly. He races to the barn and back again, handing a crowbar to Eric, who applies it like a lever. There is a wrenching noise and the trunk comes open, revealing a bag, a long black bag, zipped and bulging, the kind that’s used for golf. Eve puts her hand to her chest while Eric leans in and pulls the zipper slowly, holding the bag so it doesn’t jerk with the movement. He pushes the edges apart carefully.

Inside is a bundle of golf clubs, the expensive, heavy kind, wrapped around with thick cloth. The heads are different sizes, different shapes. Her father used to play golf but Eve has never understood what the different kinds of heads were used for. She can remember asking him but he never replied.

“I’m sorry.” Melly can’t seem to stop crying. “I thought, while I was driving over, I actually thought . . .” She doesn’t finish, she doesn’t need to. Tears are pouring down her face. Eve knows what she thought, she’d thought the same.

Eric puts an arm around her. “Okay, Melly, it’s okay.”

Melissa’s mouth is moving awkwardly because of the swelling in her face. Eve knows with the stinging acuity of grief that it was Paul who hurt Melly; pity settles on top of grief and fear, another sliding layer. She glances down at the empty trunk but it isn’t empty after all. In the corner there is a curved glittering shape. Eve reaches in and brings it out in her hand. She holds it so tightly that the glassy fragments dig into her palm. A tiara. A child’s tiara.