Adrenaline combined with an empty stomach makes me feel light-headed. It’s so obvious, once you think of it. It’s only taken me this long to see it because of an assumption I made, a stupid one. Then, immediately after leaping to the wrong conclusion, I found plenty of evidence that seemed to prove me right. It wasn’t evidence of anything, though. I just chose to believe it was.

Now I know what was really going on. But what does it mean? How does it alter or add to the overall picture? I still don’t know that.

I need to talk to Flora again. Whether she wants to talk to me or not, she’s going to have to. And she will because . . .

Because people can make Flora do things she doesn’t want to do. Lewis can, Kevin and Yanina can, and you can too.

If the answer that’s just come to me is right, and it has to be, then Flora can’t be playing her part in all this by choice. Can she?

No. You know she isn’t. You saw her face. You know her. She’s your best friend.

I pick up my phone and ring Lou back. “Can you access school records from home?” I ask her.

“I’m not at home—” she starts to say.

“Can you access the records from wherever you are?”

“Only my emails and the main school Web site, which is public. Why?”

“Could you get into the building if you went now?”

“Yes, I’ve got the code for the—”

“I need you to go. I need the mobile number you’ve got on record for Jeanette Cater. That’ll be on a database somewhere, won’t it?”

“It should be. We encourage all parents to give us all their contact numbers. We require it, actually. Doesn’t mean all of them do it, though.”

“I need that number,” I tell her.

“Is it so important that it can’t wait till tomorrow?” she asks. “You can say if it is.”

I don’t know how to answer. Will anything terrible happen tonight if I don’t make Lou interrupt her evening?

“It is, then,” she says, when I fail to answer. “It’s fine. I’ll go in now. Sit tight. I’ll let you know, soon as I can.”

I pace up and down the room, turn on the TV and mute it immediately like Zannah and Ben do at home. I press the Channel Plus button on the remote control until I find something I can bear to look at: a kitchen. Two men are sitting at a table while a large older woman, a redhead with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, walks around behind them. I stare for a few seconds, then switch the TV off again.

I have no idea how to pass the time between now and when Lou rings me back. The desire to eat has left me completely. I don’t think I can stay in the room either.

I grab my phone and key card and head downstairs and outside. I walk around the building, through the lush greenery of the gardens toward the pool terrace, where I soon realize I can’t stay. Everyone here looks far too relaxed, sprawled out on sunbeds with their eyes closed, cocktails in fruit-decorated glasses on tables next to them.

I walk around to the front of the hotel and cross the road, planning to go back to the beach, but halfway along the narrow, roped-off path I change my mind and turn back.

Finally I admit it to myself: I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going. This isn’t good. I need to get my head together if I’m going to speak to Flora again. Instead of running around frenetically, I need to keep still and focus.

I force myself to walk slowly back to my room, breathing even more slowly. By the time I get back, I feel a little more composed. As if to reward me for sensibly taking myself in hand, my phone starts to buzz in my pocket as I push open the door to my room.

“Lou!” I hope it’s her. I didn’t stop to look.

“You’re in luck,” she says. “I’ve got Jeanette’s mobile number for you.”

24

Back in my hotel room, I sit down in the hard chair at the desk and stare at the number Lou has sent me. It doesn’t look familiar. It can’t be the same one Flora had twelve years ago. I think I’d probably recognize that number if it was in front of me, though I can’t call it to mind.

I key in the digits, press the dial button and wait for her to answer. Each of these stages feels as if it lasts an age. How many more stages will there be?

It doesn’t matter. However many there are, I’ll be here for them.

“Hello?”

“Flora, it’s me.”

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“I know. And I let you think I might. I should have been clearer. I can’t leave you alone until I’m sure that you and the children are safe. Flora, listen, this is important. I know you’re not okay. I knew it the second I saw you get out of that car outside your house in Hemingford Abbots. I knew when I saw the look of pure fear in your eyes in the car park in Huntingdon. I know you’ve lied to me and I understand why, but you’ve miscalculated here. You think if you lie convincingly enough, I’ll disappear, and you’re scared of what they’ll do to you if you don’t help to make me go away—I get that—but you need to believe me now. I’m not ever going to drop this. And when they see that I haven’t dropped it, they’ll blame you.”

I stop in case she wants to try and deny any of it. I hear her breathing.

She says nothing.

“They’re not going to blame themselves, are they?” I go on. “People like them never do. Lewis isn’t a good person. I think you know that better than anyone. I should have realized it long before I did. Kevin and Yanina aren’t good people either. But you are, Flora. You were my best friend for years. I know you want to help make sure Thomas and Emily aren’t harmed any more than they already have been.”

She doesn’t respond. All I can hear is her breathing.

“I’ve spoken to people at Thomas’s school. The staff are worried about him.” Only one member of staff, but Flora doesn’t need to know that. “They know there’s something wrong at home. Shall I tell you what I’ve been told? That you cling to Thomas and Emily as if you’re terrified something bad will happen to them.”

I hear a sob. It’s working. Keep going.

“What do you think Lewis is going to do if you follow his instructions to the letter? Treat you well? When did he last treat you well, Flora? Not for a while, I don’t think. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Silence.

“What will Kevin and Yanina do if you obey their orders? What will your reward be, for helping to get rid of nosy, pushy Beth? Will they suddenly treat you and the children kindly? Have they ever done that? You’ve obeyed orders for a long time, haven’t you, and where’s it got you? Nowhere.”

Where’s this approach getting me? I have no way of knowing, and no plan. I’m acting on instinct—saying anything I think of that feels true, praying I’m right. I can’t show any doubt if I want her to believe I can help her.

“We’re going to do it differently from now on, Flora. You’re going to listen to me, not them. I want to help you and the children. I know I can help, but you have to talk to me and tell me the truth. And you need to understand that if you don’t do that, you won’t get to avoid your fear. The opposite. You’ll make the fear last longer. You’ll create more of it if you carry on lying and avoiding me. You know why? Because I’m not going to leave this alone. Whatever you’re all so terrified of, it’s going to happen. I’m going to find out. It’s only a question of when. It might take me a year, maybe two. Do you want to live in fear for that long? You can’t keep the secret forever. None of you can.”

She’s letting me say all this—not shutting me down, not interrupting. That has to mean something.

“When did someone last try to help you, Flora?” I try to think of anything I can say that might flip that switch in her mind. “You know how persistent I’ve had to be. And I was your best friend for years. What if no one ever really tries to help you and the children again? What if I’m your only chance?” Shit. That sounded too threatening. In a softer voice, I say, “There’s a better, more sensible choice you can make: you can tell me the truth right now and have an ally.”

“Why does it matter to you?” She’s crying. “Why can’t you forget about me, forget about all of us?”

“Because there’s something badly wrong,” I tell her. “The children—Thomas and Emily Cater—are being harmed somehow. I’m not sure how but I know it’s happening. Lewis is the driving force behind it. Lewis was and is always a driving force—that’s all he knows how to be. And you’re being harmed by it, whatever it is. Maybe that’s your choice—to stay in that house with those people and let them hurt you in whatever way they’re hurting you. Maybe you don’t want to be rescued, but how can you deny your children the help you know they need?”

“You don’t know anything! You don’t understand!”

I wait a moment, then carry on as evenly as if her outburst hasn’t happened. “There’s a lot that I don’t understand. That’s true. I’ve worked out part of it, but not all. There are some things that still make no sense to me. Maybe you can explain them. If I’m going to help, I need to know what I’m dealing with. Why did Lewis make such a fuss about you feeding Georgina, the last time you all came to see us?”