But maybe I won’t find this—togetherness, a group bonded in grief and reminiscence. I’ll find instead a secret Bella, proof that I really didn’t know her. The Bella who took Max from me, who was taking drugs with Jack. It’s taken on too great a significance, a half-full film on an ancient camera that might not even work. I might collect the photos and get an envelope full of blank paper. I don’t think so, though. I think I’m going to find my sister again on that film. Something steered Sean to find the camera in the chaos of Dean House—what else but the ghost of Bella, still trying to talk to me?

“We need more booze,” Jack says, getting up off the log.

“I’ll come with you,” I say, jumping up, ignoring Lena’s raised eyebrows, Max’s startled look. Max stands up as well.

“Do you want me to come?” he asks, and I have to look away from the frown on his face, the one that says he’s worried about me. The one that says he’s worried what I’ll do. It’s half concern, half wariness and it’s been there since that night in my flat.

“No, it’s fine,” I say, voice stiff. “I’ll be fine.”

“I knew you were waiting for a chance to get me alone,” Jack says as I follow him along the path, feeling the avid attention of the others burning into my back. “Bit tasteless, though, Tess—the night before my mother’s funeral. At least wait until the day after, when I’ll be all weak and susceptible from grief.”

He says this too loud, still playing the bad-guy role, because he knows the others are still in earshot. A role I know is not an act. I don’t answer. What I have to say I don’t want the others to hear.

He carries on the teasing at normal volume as we get far enough away not to be overheard. He keeps slipping away—one minute he’s three feet in front, his voice almost in my ear, the next he’s a hundred feet away. I know it can’t be real, so I keep my gaze focused on the path in front of me. I keep seeing flashes of white in the trees, Bella flitting her way between the trees. Also not real, I tell myself.

“You’re right,” I call. “I did want to get you on your own.”

My words stop him dead and he spins round on the path to face me, no longer retreating and advancing, but staying put, planted tall like a tree.

“Julia told me,” I say. “Before she died—she told me about you and Bella. About the drugs.”