Sarah had already explained to David her theory of collection. Not atonement, she insisted. She had explained too why that drew her to Veronica: the lure of relearning any part of her sister. And David had sympathised. He knew that Sarah had a void inside her; but, he said, Veronica was not the one to fill it.

Sarah’s phone rang. David. With another quick word on prejudice, she excused herself from Andrew’s office and ran past the chambers lift, down the three flights of stairs to the street.

“Don’t get worried, we know Amelia, so I’m sure it’s all a mistake,” David began through the phone line, immediately sending Sarah into panic. “Apparently Amelia’s been acting out at school, and we’re required to attend a parents’ meeting.”

Sarah stopped at the pillar outside her chambers and placed one hand on cool stone. “The school called to tell you that?”

“No.” There was a hesitation to David’s voice. “Veronica turned up at the museum.”

“What?” Instantly, Sarah couldn’t breathe. “Veronica came to see you?”

“I think she wants to see you.”

Sarah crossed the road, sitting on the bench just inside the gated park. “That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? Coming to your work?”

“She said she wanted to give us a heads-up. Nice of her, I suppose. But I don’t actually believe Amelia would have done anything terrible, so yes, probably excessive. It was strange, Sarah. Veronica seemed to be suggesting that Amelia has some sort of behavioural issue, or learning difficulty, or, something. She mentioned having to write a report.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! How dare she suggest something like that!”

“Wait. Sarah, really, I don’t know why, but I think she’s just looking for a reason to see you again.”

“That’s crazy,” said Sarah. But even as she said it, her mind flew back to that summer long ago, to the anticipation she had felt then for Veronica’s arrival, to the way her friend’s powerful tentacles had wrapped themselves around her family, to all that happened afterwards. Sarah had been so infatuated with Veronica then. Was it normal for girls of that age? Had Veronica felt the same way about her? Did she feel it still?

“I don’t like her being in charge of Amelia,” Sarah said, surprising herself.

“What?” There was a beeping on David’s end of the line.

“Nothing, you’re driving. I’ve got to go anyway. See you at home. We’ll talk about it then.”

The tube would have been far quicker, Chancery Lane was round the corner, but every bit of her resolve was going into staying calm for what lay ahead. The MRI scans were a yearly challenge – an annual check on a benign brain tumour they’d found when she was sixteen. Of course, open scanners were shiny new and available, but not covered by her health insurance, nor by the NHS, so once a year, every year, Sarah had to steel herself for the tunnel. She had at least developed a few tricks to get her through. Although generally opposed to drugs – refusing when others at university dabbled in cocaine, or ecstasy, or other names she lost track of – now, a sedative was a necessity; she always brought somebody with her to wait outside; and there was a mantra that she repeated to herself over and over: the fear wasn’t real, the fear wasn’t real, the fear wasn’t real. Nor, she attempted to convince herself, was the dizziness, the dry mouth, the gripping of her chest, the constriction in her throat, the feeling that she was trapped and trapped and going to die that way.