All the signs had been there, and the aspect of it that haunted her more than anything was that she’d known better. Truly. Concussion wasn’t an unusual side effect of a blow to the head. She’d seen enough members of the local high school’s American football team carted off the pitch to realise how seriously it should have been taken. But the nausea passed, then the dizziness wore off. The ice helped to reduce the bump, and the fact that the bruising was coming out not staying internal was a good sign – she’d read that somewhere, too. There was a party that evening. She had a few hours to sleep off the blow, get rid of the headache. Her mother was away, and her father would be in his study working. No one would notice. And they hadn’t.

The school year had ended. Connie had graduated with an impressive grade point average. Her mother, father, brother and grandmother had celebrated with her. There’d been a party at their Martha’s Vineyard home and a long, hot summer to look forward to. The President had a daughter vacationing with him who her brother had a massive crush on and, as happened every June and July, normal social structure and restraints became meaningless. There was no snobbery on the Vineyard. You could and would rub shoulders with film stars, world leaders, fishermen and waitresses, and no one pointed or whispered. It was a typical summer.

‘Only by then I’d met Ruben. He lived in Edgartown, I lived on the outskirts of Oak Bluffs. I had a job in an ice-cream parlour during the day, and he’d come over to meet friends. God, I never reacted to anyone like I did when he walked in. I dropped the cone I was making him, my hands shaking, and I must have sounded like a complete idiot. He was nice about it. He could afford to be. I’m pretty sure every girl on the island had him at the top of their wish list.’

‘Was he everything you thought he was going to be, or an illusion?’ Baarda asked.