Faye was silent.

Derek looked across the lawn. “She’s better, isn’t she? She looks better.”

“Clare?” she asked, following his gaze to where she and the mattress created a small mound in the darkness.

He nodded.

She thought about the young woman, who, with her long hair, spindly limbs and narrow hips in tiny shorts as they hiked, could easily be mistaken for a carefree girl from a distance—but whose worried eyes and edgy energy suggested otherwise when she lingered long enough and stood close enough for anyone to notice. Faye had wondered if the others felt the same. Did they also want to tell Clare that, while they might not know exactly what she was going through, they had some idea of what lay ahead? And that, although they were certainly not always right, they had already more experience of being wrong than she? It made her feel old and unoriginal but the quote—were they the words of George Bernard Shaw?—“Youth is wasted on the young” came to mind.

“Well, she’s been very ill. But Diane said Michelle is convinced she’s recovered. Or at least, recovering,” she said.

“Weird illness. I can’t get my head around it.”

“That’s what it is; an illness.”

“It doesn’t make sense. I still think something must’ve triggered it,” he said, peering across the yard.

“As I understand it—”

“I still believe she must’ve been attacked at university. Or something else odd happened during first-year. All those parties. The drinking perhaps.”

“Attacked? Why—”

Derek ignore her. “But Michelle insists that’s not the case. Says it’s about control, self-esteem and that kind of stuff.”

“You spoke to Michelle about Clare?”

“Briefly. A while ago . . . can’t remember the exact occasion.” He looked away and gestured towards Clare. “Still, she looks good. God knows we’re all carrying too much weight.”

Faye swallowed.

“Really, Derek? ‘Good’? There’s nothing to her. Did you notice how little she eats?”

He stared at his wife, his mouth set in a line. Faye braced herself for rebuke or scorn, or a bit of both. Instead, Derek exhaled through pouting lips and said, “Let’s go to bed, shall we? I’m bushed.”

She took a sip of water. “To be honest, I’m surprised Geoffrey and Michelle suggested she come. Do you think they mean us to look after her?”

“Of course not. She seems fine. And Geoff’s here.”

“Is that why you came outside to check on her?”

Derek glared at her again. Faye looked down. She’d done it again.

“I mean, she’s outside and—” she said.

But Derek was already walking towards the cabin.