I saw him. When he thought all eyes were on his daughter, I saw him. He watched them humiliate her – instigated it – and instead of stepping in, he left her to fend for herself, slipping away to join the supervising adults drinking tea in the kitchen, who were oblivious to the unfolding drama, distracted by village gossip and complaining about giving up their Saturday night.

For all his faults, I can’t imagine my own father being so cruel.

Hush now, Brinley.

I hold my breath. Shannon and Dr Carter are so close I could reach out my hand and touch them as they pass.

A light drizzle has begun to fall. It’s cold now, and the river is getting angrier. There are dirt and twigs on the ground, and a stone is digging into the sole of my boot. I shift, trying to keep quiet, peering through the bushes until I have a clearer view.

Shannon does not look like the girl I know. That girl is witty and warm, although her edges can cut occasionally. Her smile has gone, and the light in her eyes has flattened into darkness. I can see the sharp outline of her shoulder blades through her wet vest-top, and something about that makes me feel sad.

Dr Carter is holding her arm, but not in a supportive way. He says something else to her, but a sudden rush from the river drowns out the sound of his voice. Her face falls, and she starts to cry, gut-wrenching sobs that hurt my heart.

I should go. I’ve known Shannon since I was born, and she does not like anyone to see her upset. But if I slip away now, they’ll notice me, and anyway, I can’t leave her alone in the dark of the night because she’s my friend, a sister to me in the absence of one of my own. I’m here for her, even when she doesn’t know it.

She stumbles and lands on her knees. Instinctively, my hand jerks out to help her up, but I let it drop and watch instead.

Dr Carter grips her arm and drags her to her feet. She yelps in pain, his fingers pinching her skin, but he’s impassive, nothing behind his eyes.

‘Whore.’

The insult is precise and brutal, like a whip strike. She flinches. We’ve been doing Much Ado About Nothing at school. I know exactly what a whore is. We both do.

‘I’m not.’ But the defiance has leaked from her voice. She sounds frightened.

‘What have you let him do to you?’

She is shaking her head, over and over again. ‘Nothing, I promise. He’s just a friend.’

He raises his hand, and for one terrible moment, I think he is going to hit her, and I want to run and fetch my father, because he has always abhorred violence against women and I know this would disgust him.