63. Now

The sky is bright in the windows. The birds have been singing for some time. Mina is asleep on the sofa opposite me. It's quarter past five. I can't tell if I've been asleep or not.

My daughter is gone.

Last night, I drove to the police station and told a practically teenaged police officer that I thought my brother had tried to rape Georgia Smith, and then attacked, maybe raped, and attempted to kill her mother.

It seems unreal.

If he finds out, he'll never forgive me. If my father finds out, my family and I will have nowhere to live.

I'm a terrible person. For betraying my family. And for not doing it thirty years earlier.

My phone is ringing. I scrabble for it.

It's Dan. I press ‘answer' while looking at the TV, which is showing the news on mute, something about a missing reporter being found washed up on the banks of the Thames, way out by Sheerness.

For a second I'm distracted by this other tragedy. She has a sensible short haircut and a welcoming smile and thick-framed purple tortoiseshell glasses. Brenda Rogers, it says beneath the picture.

But my own fear and grief wash over me and I swallow to stop myself from heaving and press the phone hard against my ear.

‘Frankie?' says Dan.

I want to ask him where he is but instead I just start crying.

‘I don't think she's here at the festival. They wouldn't let me in and they said it would be impossible – ridiculous – for me to try to find her myself. They have her photo and they say they've been searching. I feel useless. I've been trying to get in but I can see inside and it would just be… I thought I'd stay and wait in case they found her. I thought one of us should be here. And they have Rose's photo – Rose is missing too?' He sniffs.

I ball up my free hand and scrunch my eyes closed. ‘Dan, come home,' I say. ‘Tristan offered to get her a ticket and she didn't take it. She isn't there.'

Guilt flowers in my stomach. I had just assumed the photo was real. I hadn't questioned that he was cheating on me. I went upstairs after Mina fell asleep and dug the photo from the bin. It looked real, but this time I hadn't believed it. He'd never do something like that.

‘I'm coming,' he says.

Mina sits up, yawning, struggling to unglue her eyes. Her make-up has smudged and the cushion has left lines over her cheek. ‘Was that?—'

‘Frankie? Mina?' Tristan stands in the doorway, his face white.

Oh God – does he know what I've done? He has contacts in the police. Have they told him?

Mina pushes her hair from her face. ‘Tris?'

‘Have you seen Ava and Ash?' he asks.

Mina freezes. I shake my head.

‘They're not in their rooms. Their cars are still in the grain store.'

‘They're gone?' says Mina.

‘I can't find them,' he says, pinning her with his gaze.

She sits up, holding a hand over her lined face.

‘We need to call the police,' I say.

‘Let's just look for them before we go escalating things.' He tells me to search the extension while he goes outside – he's already searched their part of the house – and he tells Mina to go to Mother and Father's. ‘Meet in the kitchen in fifteen.'

I nod and then I stop. ‘I didn't tell you,' I say, trying to figure out if there's any reason not to tell them. ‘Lydia called me last night. Rose is missing too.' As I say it realise Tristan has probably been looking for Rose too, seeing as she's the one with the tape.

Mina's hands fly back to her face around her gaping mouth. ‘Frances we spoke for hours last night and you?—'

‘Do you think we might have kept a closer eye on our children if you'd told us?' says Tristan.

‘Jenna going missing wasn't enough?'

Mina won't stop staring.

Tristan shakes his head. ‘I take care of my children,' he says. ‘Your daughter has always been a flight risk.'

I feel like he's slapped me.

‘Come on, quick.' He mills his hand in the air.

‘And then we call the police?' I say.

He takes one step closer to me. ‘Let's not waste any more time.'

I stand up, wondering why this feels like a threat.

Jenna, Rose, Ava, Ash.

I've spent the night worrying about my brother, when whatever he did in the past is just a distraction. That's all the children of the people Georgia hates, gone in under twenty-four hours.