‘No.’ Niamh springs up, her voice tight, high-pitched. ‘She can’t be.’ Going over to the window, she stands with her back to me, her shoulders hunched, her denial absolute, but then, it’s her bed that Hollie was sprawled on just days ago, her company Hollie sought out when she needed an ally. Even to me, what’s happened is incomprehensible. As she starts to shake, I go over and put my arms around her, trying to absorb the sobs racking her.

‘I need to know what happened,’ she mumbles through her tears. ‘Poor Hollie …’

I keep my arms around Niamh, tears rolling down my face onto her hair. ‘Ida didn’t say. She probably didn’t know.’ Pausing, I wipe my face with one of my hands. ‘It’s terrible, Niamh … So sad …’

As Niamh’s shaking intensifies, I realise she’s in shock. ‘Why don’t you come downstairs with me? I’ll make us some tea,’ I say anxiously, not wanting to leave her alone. Hollie’s death is too close. I can’t help thinking – as no doubt every other parent would – what if it had been my child?

I think of James, trying to imagine what he’s going through. After losing his wife, it seems unthinkable that he’s lost his daughter, too.

*

Later, I’m in the kitchen when Andrew comes in. After taking off his coat, he pours himself a large whisky instead of his usual glass of wine.

‘I imagine you’ve heard about Hollie, Andrew?’

He takes a large slug from his glass. ‘Yes. Her body was picked up this afternoon.’

I’m incredulous. It stands to reason that the medical practice would have heard, but at the very least, I’d have expected him to call me. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me? What if Niamh had heard from someone else?’

‘I was too busy.’ Speaking impatiently, he starts towards the door. ‘I’ve had a hell of a day. If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit down.’

‘Just a minute, Andrew.’ My voice is sharp. ‘Do you know what happened to her?’

I watch warily as he stiffens, then slowly turns around. ‘She drowned,’ he says curtly. ‘There’ll be a post-mortem. Until then, there’s no way of knowing whether it was an accident or not.’

An image of Hollie’s lifeless body comes to me, her long hair fanned out around her under the water. I feel the blood drain from my face. ‘Where did it happen?’

‘In the grounds of Park House, apparently. The Marinos are in Italy, so God only knows what she was doing there.’

But as he speaks, my skin prickles. From one of our spare rooms, you can just about make that house out through the trees. ‘I’ve told Niamh that Hollie’s been found, but none of the details.’