Until today. An announcement in the Telegraph. Right at the top of her search page, in black and white. All the years of trying to find her on the deepest, darkest fringes of the internet, and here she was. As Chloe wrestled with the enormity of the fact that something had come up, she stared at the screen, not really taking the words in. Then she blinked, and focused. All the letters made sense, but in conjunction they meant nothing.

Chloe sat up. Refreshed the page. But it was still there.

Zadie Elizabeth Henrietta Barber Lister, died, 19 August. 1985–2020.

Zadie

‘I’ll wash up,’ said Zadie, getting up from the dining table.

Her parents both looked up, seeming surprised. ‘That’s very nice of you, darling,’ said her mother. Their apparent shock at her willingness to help rankled. She had been home for two weeks now, and every day she had tried harder to convince them that she was ‘doing well’, as they called it. Walking the dogs. Doing the laundry. On Christmas Day she had even consented to let her mother serve the food on her plate, no counting, no weighing, no checking. She had made a fuss about wanting the green Quality Street, played Charades with her little brothers and let her moody teenage sister, Louella, borrow her clothes. She had chattered away about the friends she was making at university, about the work she was doing, about how hard she had found her first essay, and how the library was the fourth biggest in the whole of the UK. In short, she had been the model child.

‘I was wondering,’ she said now, picking one of the serving bowls off the table, ‘whether Max could come for the New Year’s Eve party?’

She took the bowls into the kitchen. It was a good way to ask for things, she had found over the years. The journey from dining room to kitchen and back took about a minute and a half, giving them time to talk across the table about her request but not long enough to really think of a reason to say no.

When she came back her mother was folding her napkin and putting it back in the silver napkin ring she always used.

‘I thought his parents liked to go away for Christmas?’ She made ‘go away’ sound like ‘murder puppies’.

‘They went to Thailand. But they’re back in a few days, and we haven’t seen each other for ages. I could go to his, I suppose, but I thought it would be nice for him to come here. He’s never been to the New Year party.’

Her father refilled his wine glass. ‘I don’t see why not.’

‘Really?’ Zadie put her arms around him. ‘Thank you.’

‘And why don’t you invite some other friends as well?’

Zadie froze. ‘Other friends?’

‘The girl you share the room with, for instance?’ said her mother. ‘She seemed so sweet.’