I said, ‘Why the art room?’

‘Keep her thinking about that postcard, remembering there’s someone out there who knows.’ Conway tugged the elastic out of what was left of her bun. Hair came down around her shoulders, straight and heavy. ‘You start us off. Good Cop, nice and gentle, don’t spook her and don’t spook Daddy. Just set up the facts: she was getting out at night, she knew about Chris and Selena, she didn’t like Chris. Try and fill in the details: why she didn’t like him, whether she discussed the relationship with the others. When you need Bad Cop, I’ll come in.’

A couple of fast twists of her wrists, a snap of hairband, and the bun was in place, smooth and glossy as marble. Her shoulders had straightened; even the scoured look had fallen away from her face. Conway was ready.

The common-room door opened. Holly in the doorway, with McKenna behind her. Ponytail, jeans, a turquoise hoodie with sleeves that hid her hands.

I’d been thinking of her all snap and sheen, but that was gone. She was white and ten years older, daze-eyed, like someone had shaken her world like a snow globe and nothing was coming down in the same places. Like she had been so confident she was doing everything right, and all of a sudden nothing looked that simple any more.

It turned me cold. I couldn’t look at Conway. Didn’t need to; I knew she’d seen it too.

Holly said, ‘What’s going on?’

I remembered her nine years old, so stiff with courage she would break your heart. I said, ‘Your dad’s on his way. I’d say he’d rather we don’t talk till he gets here.’

That burned off the daze. Holly’s head went back in exasperation. ‘You called my dad? Come on!’

I didn’t answer. Holly saw the look on me and closed her mouth. Disappeared behind the smoothness of her face, innocent and secretive all at once.

‘Thanks,’ Conway said to McKenna. To me and Holly: ‘Let’s go.’

The long corridor we’d walked down that morning, to find the Secret Place. Then it had been humming with sun and busyness; now – Conway passed the light switch without a glance – it was twilit and sizeless. Evening through the window behind us gave us faint shadows, me and Conway stretched even taller on either side of the straight slip of Holly, like guards with a hostage. Our steps echoed like marching boots.