Liza came closer and put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I can only imagine how difficult it must be –’

‘Why the hell didn’t you come forward at the time?’ Grace interrupted, anger sitting low in her voice.

‘I didn’t know that Adam had gone missing straight away,’ Liza explained, withdrawing her touch. ‘And when I found out, it was complicated … for reasons I don’t want to go into, but which have nothing to do with Adam. Anyway, at the time I didn’t think our conversation would be relevant – but when I heard you were back, I knew I should talk to you, just in case …’

‘What else did he say?’ Grace demanded impatiently.

‘Well, he was sitting at a computer when I saw him, with the phone book open next to him, and when I asked him what he was doing, he looked kind of sheepish and said, “Looking for my dad.”’

On hearing those last four words, Grace froze. Liza didn’t notice, and carried on.

‘I was taken aback by that. When he’d stayed in Roseby after his mother died, the main things I remember about him were first of all that he pretty much chain-smoked, and secondly that he talked a lot about how much he hated his father for abandoning them. So I wasn’t sure what to say, but he added, “I’d just like to hear his side of the story.” And then I’m certain that we began talking about something else – that’s all I remember him saying about it anyway. But I recall him telling me that very clearly, because he’d obviously had such a big change of heart.’

Grace was trying to imagine this conversation taking place. ‘Adam rarely talked about his father to me,’ she told Liza. ‘He seemed to have dealt with the trauma of his early life. He was one for always looking forward, not backwards.’

‘Well,’ Liza said, ‘he had changed then, because he used to be obsessed with his dad. And that’s probably a good thing, actually, because although I didn’t really understand at the time, it wasn’t very healthy the way he talked then. But he had only just lost his mother – he needed someone to direct his anger at, I guess. The way he spoke in the library struck me, because that hate wasn’t there any more – he was quite matter of fact about it.’

Grace swung round. ‘I want to tell the police about this,’ she said. ‘In case it makes a difference. I wish you’d said something at the time.’

‘Grace, I understand how you must feel, but I’m asking you – begging you, in fact – not to get me involved.’ Liza sounded frightened.

‘Can I ask why?’ Grace persisted.

Liza shook her head. ‘I can’t say, I’m sorry. Please – I’ve told you all I know. Leave me out of it now.’

Grace made a noise of frustration and looked back across the lake for a while, lost in thought. When she turned round, she was alone in the gazebo.

All at once, the cold was unbearable. She looked through the trees towards the lights of the hall. She wasn’t ready to go back there yet. Her thoughts tumbled over one another as she tried to make sense of what she had heard. While Liza had been talking, half of Grace had been listening attentively, but the other half had been picturing Adam’s earnest face and trying to figure out why he hadn’t told her what he was doing. She had a disconcerting feeling that she might know the answer. While Grace was pregnant, she had asked Adam if he’d thought about tracing his father. He had seemed agitated by the suggestion, and had given her a big speech about how the past was best left alone. If he’d changed his mind, and decided to do some research while they were at the cottage, he might well have put off telling Grace, knowing what he’d said before, reluctant to admit his change of heart.

She remembered his note now, with a shudder of disquiet: I have to talk to you when I get back, don’t go anywhere. As she sighed, a cloud of mist formed in the frosty air. Surely this was it – he had meant to tell her about Jonny. So why had he chosen that moment? Had he found something in the library?

She watched her breath dissipating. This was all supposition – who knew if it even had any bearing on why he’d disappeared. She recalled Liza and her family at the table tonight. Meredith’s indifferent stare. Perhaps they were trying to unnerve her, make her feel that her husband had been keeping secrets from her, manoeuvre her out of the cottage so Meredith could take it over. Well, if that were their intention they were going to be disappointed.

It was time to get back inside before she caught pneumonia. She left the gazebo and moved hurriedly along, careful not to trip on the long undergrowth next to the murky water. As she walked through the car park, she pictured Millie’s sleeping face, and rummaged in her small bag to phone Emma.

‘I’ve been expecting you to call!’ Emma said as she answered. ‘And she’s fine. Not a peep out of her. Enjoy yourself while you’ve got the chance. I’m not expecting you back until way past midnight.’

‘Thank you, I really appreciate it,’ Grace said.

‘Don’t you worry, I’m sure we’ll be needing a favour from you at some stage.’

As Grace hung up, she registered the sounds of the ball again, and wondered if James and Annabel had realised that she was missing. Annabel probably won’t even notice if I’m not in the car on the way home, she thought, since she’s likely to be both drunk and exhausted by then.

Grace’s mother had always urged her to be a responsible older sister and look after Annabel, even though they were only thirteen months apart. She had once done so willingly, yet nowadays at times she resented her sister’s devil-may-care approach to life. ‘Grace was born responsible,’ her father used to say proudly. And so it appeared. Was this what she was doing now by moving back to the cottage – putting herself through all this because of some questionable notion about what ‘the right thing to do’ might be? What if she didn’t want to be responsible any more? Perhaps that should be her New Year’s resolution, she decided, with a surge of defiance.

There was an unexpected movement behind her. She whirled around, peering back towards the trees, and saw a familiar figure vanishing behind one of them, a tall man with dark hair.

She shook her head briefly to try to re-establish reality, but it was no use – that short glimpse had stung her so hard that she broke into a run, screaming as loudly as she could, ‘Adam!’

At the sound of her cry, the man spun on his heel. ‘Grace!’ Ben said, a mixture of astonishment and worry on his face. ‘What are you doing out here?’

For a moment she had imagined it was her husband, and nothing else had mattered except catching up to him. Now, bitter disappointment derailed her.

‘Why the hell are you creeping around?’ she shouted. Ben appeared to wince at her loud voice, and glanced uncomfortably towards the trees and the car park and hall beyond, but there was no one visible, only the faint sound of music.

‘Grace, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you – I didn’t know anyone else was down here.’

‘But what are you doing here?’ she demanded, still angry. ‘You said you weren’t coming.’

‘Well, I changed my mind. A few times, actually. I was wondering if this might be –’ He stopped, as though reluctant to go on.

‘Be what?’ Grace insisted.

Ben shook his head. ‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter.’ He came closer. ‘Here,’ he took off his jacket and held it up to drape over her shoulders, ‘you must be freezing.’

Grace became aware of how tightly she had wrapped her arms around herself, and how hard she was shaking. She let him lay the jacket over her, and as the fight left her, tears began to form in her eyes. She looked down.