I take the tablets from my mother-in-law and wash them down with the rest of my tea. Celia draws the curtains, but I find I’m too distracted to even take off my clothes and get into my pyjamas. I had hoped that talking to my mother-in-law would have helped to set my mind at rest. But as I lie on top of the covers, I can’t help scratching at my hazy memories, trying to sharpen them into something clearer. I remember seeing my sister’s lifeless body. I remember a smashed vase, water everywhere, winter roses. And Dina shouting something. What was she shouting?

After closing the curtains, Celia walks away across the darkened room. ‘Get some sleep,’ she says softly, opening the door. A shaft of light from the corridor illuminates her, and washes into the room, casting strange shadows.

I’m too enmeshed in my thoughts to say a proper goodbye. Instead, I mumble something vague and exhale with relief as Celia closes the door behind her, plunging the room into darkness once more and leaving me alone. For a moment, I wonder what the hell I’m still doing here. In this room. In this hotel. Where it happened. Where I…

I sit bolt upright, my eyes wide, my body frozen as an avalanche of memories cascades into my brain like a pack of playing cards being dealt too fast. My whole body shudders as though I have the flu, my skin going alternately hot and then ice cold.

I can remember.

I can remember everything.

Twenty-Nine

THE DAY OF THE WEDDING

I turn one way and then the other, gazing at my reflection in the full-length mirror. It doesn’t even look like me. My hair normally hangs in a dark curtain down my back. Today it’s been softly curled and held back off my face by the pearl comb and veil which my mother wore at her wedding. My ivory lace dress is fitted, flaring out slightly at the hem, its tiny seed pearls catching the winter light that streams through the huge sash windows. I’ll wait until Celia comes back before attempting to attach the billowing tulle train. There’s still over an hour to go before the ceremony starts and I don’t want to be tripping over it.

The door opens with a click. ‘Wow, Zoe, look at you!’

I turn at the sound of a familiar voice, not daring to believe she actually made it. ‘Dina!’ Standing before me is my sister, windswept and red-cheeked. Her hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it before, cascading over her shoulders – a rich brown mane with reddish highlights – either dyed, or maybe lightened by years of sunshine. ‘You came! I thought you were in Thailand. You said you couldn’t get away… It’s been so long I hardly recognise you!’