Diana sat in the one remaining bean bag, her legs crossed, a picture of relaxation. Tracey had sat in that very spot once. Helen felt like time had converged on her, the past and the present colliding irreversibly.

Blood had dried on Diana’s forehead, but her hair was still wet, sticking to her cheek with either blood or water, or a combination of the two, and her mascara made a Halloween mask of her face.

“So you survived then?” Helen said.

“Disappointed?” Diana said. Her voice sounded slurred, like she had been drinking.

“Yes.” Helen stayed where she was, just at the top of the stairs, wary. “So who told you about that day? Was it Eloise? Tracey?”

“You mean you still haven’t worked it out?” Diana snorted. “This is all about you and how you don’t see what is right in front of you, so I am not surprised. Someone who used to be close to you told me about the photographs a while ago.”

Helen pulsed quickened. “But Eloise was dead. I saw her, lying on the rocks… She couldn’t…”

“Not Eloise. You’re right, she was dead where you left her.”

“So who? Tracey?”

Diana started to laugh hysterically.

Helen waited patiently.

“Martha.”

Helen recoiled, as though a hand had slapped her. “Martha?”

“Yes, Martha, my grandmother – who was unceremoniously fired when your parents found out what had happened while they were gone, about the party, the baby. She lost everything – her job, her home, you who she loved like a daughter – and all because she was loyal to you. She covered it up, never told anyone that Eloise came to the house the next day.”

“Martha knew? She saw her?” Helen’s voice was tiny.

“Apparently Eloise knocked on the door and Martha let her in that day. She was looking for you, wanted to give you an envelope, asked Martha to give it to you after she had seen you. Martha couldn’t understand why she didn’t just give it to you herself, but she insisted, so Martha tucked them in the kitchen drawer. Then Eloise went to meet you and was never seen again. Martha never gave you the photos because when the police came to interview you, she opened the envelope and realised they gave you a motive for killing Eloise. It broke her heart, but she took the photos home and hid them so that they wouldn’t be incriminating. All for you. A girl who wasn’t even her own daughter.”

Helen thought back to those dark days after it had happened, how she had locked herself away until her parents got back, how she assumed Martha would just think she was worried about Eloise. And Martha had kept her distance. Leaving food on a tray, not speaking to her much. It wasn’t that she was giving her space; it was because she thought she was guilty.