Rosalind’s room was the nicest of Aldermere’s guest rooms, and had enough space for the three Dahlias to sleep there comfortably while they kept an eye on Caro’s head injury. It was a logical decision, that had nothing to do with the fact that every time she blinked Rosalind saw Clementine’s staring eyeballs behind her own lids.

She opened the door, dropped her bag onto the dressing table, and stopped, staring. Propped against the mirror was a tiny doll wearing a floral tea dress.

‘Is that meant to be me?’ Posy pulled a face at the thing as she picked it up. The silver skirt Rosalind had lent her was splattered with mud, and the jacket she’d borrowed from Caro was missing a few beads, presumably torn off by the branches they’d fought their way through.

Caro took the doll from her calmly. Apparently they’d used up their capacity for shock this evening. ‘It’s got the right hair. And the dress.’ She handed it to Rosalind for inspection.

‘Do we think it’s a warning?’

‘I think the heavy object that whacked me on the head was a warning.’ Caro touched the bandage at her temple gingerly. ‘I think this is a taunt.’

Posy was still frowning at the figure in Rosalind’s hand. ‘But why me? Caro hasn’t had a doll, and she’s the only one who has been attacked by a murderer so far.’

‘Actually …’ Caro fished in her jacket pocket and pulled out another miniature figure. ‘It was waiting for me when I went back to my room to get my jacket, before dinner.’

There was a long pause while they both stared at the dolls. Rosalind wondered if they were thinking the same as she was. Why haven’t I got one yet?

Or maybe there was something else planned for her.

Rosalind yanked open the bedside drawer and tossed the Posy doll inside. After a beat, Caro did the same with hers.

‘Something else to worry about tomorrow,’ she said.

‘It is tomorrow,’ Posy pointed out.

‘After we’ve got some sleep, then.’ The dolls could join a long list of questions Rosalind hoped to answer before the end of the day.

Before they left Aldermere behind.

‘Wait. Are we supposed to keep you awake all night?’ Posy asked Caro, with a yawn.

‘God, I hope not.’ Caro dropped onto the bed, bouncing slightly. ‘As much as I love talking all night at a girly slumber party, this bed is too comfortable to waste not sleeping.’

It felt reassuring, but strange to have others in the room as Rosalind prepared for bed. She removed her earrings, placing them on the dressing table, then reached up to unlatch her necklace. Stranger than it had been dressing for dinner. Perhaps because that was a performance; this was personal.