I can smell mud and wet leaves and the copper tang of blood. I don’t dare turn my head in case I see Bella next to me, forced out of my dreams, a hallucination as horribly real as when she appeared in my flat, dripping blood. Or worse—what if it’s Greg? I don’t want to see that.

“I have to go,” I whisper to Sophie, and end the call before she can say anything else. I walk away fast, head down, focused on the screen of my phone as I scroll through my texts. There. There it is—the text to Sophie:

I’m scared, Sophie—the police are after me. The bones, the body, it’s murder and they know, they know. Should I tell them? Should I tell them the truth?

I didn’t write that. But it came from my phone. My heart beats faster. Did I send this? Half-asleep, am I doing more than sleepwalking? No. No. Someone else sent this. Any of them could have got hold of my phone—Jack or Sean or Lena—even Max. But why? Why would they do it? I can delete it—delete all my bloody messages. But it will still exist on Sophie’s phone. I heard the worry in her voice. She thinks I had something to do with Greg’s death. If my best friend thinks it’s me…Oh God. She’s so honest. If the police ever spoke to her, would she lie for me? I don’t think she could. I wouldn’t want her to have to do that. I put my phone in my pocket and shake my head. No. I didn’t do anything. I have nothing to worry about. I’ll keep my phone hidden and, once I get some proper sleep, I’ll be able to think more clearly. I need to hold on to the promise I made to Dad and to myself. I’m getting my life back on track.

The walled garden at the back of Dean House, my secret garden, has been left untouched so far by the demolition team, halted by the police investigation. The police have been here though, digging, looking for more bones. I saw it from the window when I broke in. It was as overgrown as the rest of the garden, untouched for years since I stopped coming here, but the stubbly apple trees and overgrown rosebushes pushing up through the weeds used to have their own kind of wild beauty. Even without my attention, even left alone, the apples still grew, the roses still bloomed.