Carly cried harder. Leah and Marie also burst into tears.

‘It’s all right. Everyone’s been looking for you. There’s been alleged sightings of you up and down the country, and abroad but… my goodness. You’re here. You’re okay.’

‘Please…’ Carly hiccupped out breaths. ‘Take us home.’

‘Your poor parents will be so relieved. We’re not far from a police station so—’

‘Quickly.’ Carly looked out of the windows fearfully. ‘Before they find us.’ The women exchanged hurried whispers before they pulled away.

Despite the fan blasting out heat, and the tartan blanket draped over their knees, Carly couldn’t stop trembling. The heat magnified the smell of the dried vomit on their clothes, the urine on their socks. She swallowed down bile.

Every pothole, each flash of lightning and rumble of thunder made her jump.

As she tried to stem her tears she was aware of the woman in the passenger seat twisting around, asking her if they’d been hurt, who had taken them, telling her that they were now famous, but Carly couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t tear her gaze away from the window. Rain slid down the glass. The trees shadowed against an iron sky. In the distance, darker shapes, the buildings from the RAF base. Carly couldn’t bear to see it but she couldn’t turn away either.

The car slowed, indicators tick-tick-ticked.

In her peripheral vision Carly caught a movement. She turned her head.

It was him.

Doc.

She inhaled sharply. Her throat was clogged with fear. She couldn’t draw air in or force words out.

He was so close. If he hurried he could wrench open the door and grab her.

She felt hot and cold. Sick. Unable to react.

His eyes found hers and there was something in them that Carly thought she had seen in him before.

Sympathy?

Regret?

He nodded once. The car began to move again. They were leaving him far behind but nevertheless he would always stay with Carly. In her nightmares, in her head.

She twisted further around in her seat, her palms against the window.

He was gone.

Once they reached the police station it all became a blur, as though Carly was, at last, allowing herself to switch off, allowing somebody else to take charge.

‘The Sinclair Sisters.’ A crowd of police officers grinned at them as though they had personally found them. ‘You’ve caused quite a fuss.’

‘Am I in trouble?’ Carly whispered, knowing it was all her fault. She should have taken better care of her sisters.

‘Of course not!’ A lady with a white pixie cut and pink cheeks spoke kindly. ‘I’m Angela and I’ll stay with you until Mum and Dad arrive. Let’s take you somewhere more private while we wait for them. It won’t be long until the vultures find out that you’re here.’

‘Vultures?’ Marie asked.

‘Tabloids,’ the woman said.

‘Do tabloids eat dead people like vultures?’ Marie looked confused.

‘Yes, they like to pick over bones. Don’t you worry, my darling.’

They were ushered into a room and wrapped in blankets. Next to Carly, the radiator was blasting out heat but still she couldn’t stop shivering.