It was Tony Costello, an old university friend of Will’s, who told him that Alice’s remains had been found. Tony, a detective with the Avon and Somerset Police, knew about Will and Alice; like all Will’s friends, he’d heard the story of their summer a hundred times. He knew that Will had, for a while, been suspected of doing Alice some harm. Even after a witness came forward to say they’d seen Alice walking alone towards the sea the night she disappeared, fingers still pointed towards Will. When the police investigation was dropped, Will tried to get on with his life. But the shame of being suspected of having hurt the girl he loved and the bitterness he harboured towards his accusers had never dissipated. Neither had the sorrow that she was gone. Tony knew full well that Will’s career and his passion for unsolved crime were rooted in his obsession with the mystery of Alice.

There was no easy way to break the news, and during their phone call earlier that morning, Tony hadn’t tried to sweeten the pill.

‘I thought you’d want to know,’ he’d said to Will after a few basic pleasantries, ‘that human remains have been found buried in Severn Sands.’ He paused a moment then added: ‘The remains of a young, slightly built female.’

Will’s mouth had gone dry. He’d licked his lips, tried to slow his breathing.

‘Will? You still there?’

‘Yes. Yeah. I’m still here. Have they… has she been identified?’

‘Not yet.’

‘So you don’t know…’

‘We can’t be one hundred per cent certain that it’s Alice Lang but everything points to it being her.’

There was a long silence.

‘Where?’ Will had asked at last. ‘Where in Severn Sands did they find her?’

‘The old holiday park. Funfair, to be specific.’

Will groaned. He reached out his free hand to steady himself.

‘I know it’s hard for you, buddy, hearing this,’ said Tony gently, ‘but at least now she can be laid to rest. Now there can be resolution.’

Will’s palm was flat against the black tiles of the kitchen wall. He was imagining Alice’s body curled in its grave; her moonlit skin pale against the dark soil.

Tony was still talking.

‘There was a silver chain in amongst the neck bones. One of the charms is a letter “A”. The other is a little silver swallow. Do they mean anything to you?’

Will remembered that little metal bird resting in the hollow of Alice’s throat beside the “A”, its outline defined against her brown skin, glinting in the sunlight. He remembered her fingers touching it; she turning to him, smiling, saying: ‘It’s perfect, Will!’

‘Will?’ Tony had asked. ‘Will? Are you OK, buddy? Are you OK?’

* * *