In a stuffy twin room of the inappropriately named Paradise Hotel in London, Sarah can hear her mother’s voice whispering her name and so keeps her eyes resolutely shut.

It is a different room now. Identical but on a different floor. The one in which she unpacked with Anna remains off limits, though Sarah cannot understand why. Anna did not go back there. Did they not believe her? She did not come back here. OK?

In this room there is still a horrid, ill-defined smell. Something that reminds her of the back of a cupboard. Hide-and-seek as a child. With her eyes closed, Sarah wishes she could play the game right now. Ignore the smell and the temperature, her mother and the police, and play hide-and-seek. Yes. The time-slip version in which Anna is drying her hair around now – the tongs already hot for straightening afterwards – blabbing on above the drone of the motor about what they should do today. Which shop should they visit first? And was Sarah serious about trying on the Stella McCartney range because the assistant would be able to tell from their clothes that they weren’t actually going to buy anything.

Anna. Sweet, infuriating Anna. Too skinny. Too beautiful. Too— ‘Are you awake, love? Can you hear me, darling?’

Sarah, facing away from her mother still, opens her eyes and winces at the light fighting through the chink in the curtains to shape a triangle on the wall. She had lain on the bed fully clothed, refusing to get under the covers, so sure there would be news by now. Any minute. They would find her any minute.

‘I’m glad you managed to drop off, love. Even just an hour. I’ve made us some tea.’

‘I don’t want anything.’

‘Just a sip. Two sugars. You need to get something inside you. Some sugar—’

‘I said I can’t face it. All right?’

Her mother is in the same trousers as yesterday but a fresh blouse now, and Sarah is thinking it is both typical and somehow inappropriate that she

thought to bring a clean blouse.

‘Your father’s arrived. He’s downstairs. He’s been with the police mostly. They want to speak to you again. When you feel—’

‘I’ve told them everything I can remember already. Hours of it. And I don’t want to see my father. You shouldn’t have called him.’

Sarah and her mother lock eyes.

‘Look, I know it’s difficult, darling. You and your dad. But the thing is, he does care. And they’ve had some call, the police, that they want to talk to you about. After the coverage on the telly.’

‘Call?’

‘Yes. From some woman on the train.’

‘Woman? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What woman?’

Sarah can feel the same gaping hole in her stomach that she felt in those first terrible hours, while she waited with the police for her mother. While she was still woozy from the booze. Disorientated. Where are you, Anna? Where the hell are you?

Trying to give the officers just enough detail to make them take it all seriously but not enough to—

She gets up quickly now, feeling the crumple of her linen shirt against her waist as she moves, fussing with the hairbrushes, make-up bags and other junk on the dressing table.

‘Have you got the remote? I need to see the news. What they’re saying.

What are they saying?’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sarah. Drink your tea. I’ll tell your dad you’re awake. That they can come up now.’

‘I’m not speaking to them again. Not yet.’

‘Look, darling. I realise this is awful. For you. For all of us.’ Her mother is moving across the room now. ‘But they’ll find her, love. I’m sure they will. She probably went off to some party and is afraid she’s in trouble.’ She puts her arm around Sarah’s shoulders – the mugs of tea now positioned amid the chaos of the dressing table – but Sarah shrugs her off.

‘Are Anna’s parents here?’

‘Not yet. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s been decided about that.

The police wanted to check some things with them in Cornwall.’ ‘What things?’

‘Computers or something. I don’t know. I don’t exactly remember, Sarah. It’s all been a blur. They just want to get all the information they can to help with this. With the search.’

‘And you think I don’t? You think I don’t feel bad enough?’ ‘No one’s blaming you, love.’

‘Blaming me? So why say blaming me if no one’s blaming me?’

‘Sarah . . . love. Don’t be like this. They’re going to find her. I know

they are. I’ll ring downstairs.’

‘No. I need you to leave me alone. All of you. I need you to just leave me alone now.’

Sarah’s mother takes her mobile from her pocket and is just feeling around for her glasses when there is a tap at the door.

‘That’ll probably be them now.’

It is the same detective as before, but with a different woman police officer this time and Sarah’s father alongside.

‘So, is there any news?’ Sarah’s mother begins to raise her body from the chair but slumps back down as their heads shake a ‘no’ in stereo.

‘Did you manage to rest, Sarah? Feel OK to talk some more now?’ It is the woman police officer.

‘I wasn’t drunk. When we spoke before. I wasn’t drunk.’ ‘No.’

The adults all look from one to the other.

‘We’ve had a look at the CCTV, Sarah. From the club.’ It is the detective’s voice now – firmer. ‘Some of the cameras weren’t working, unfortunately. But there are some things we’re not quite understanding, Sarah. Also, we’ve had a call from a witness.’

‘A witness?’

‘Yes. A woman on the train.’

She feels it instantly. The frisson. The giveaway. The cooling as the blood shifts.

Draining from her face.