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I consider the multitude of answers I could give to that question and go with the simplest one. “I overstayed my Spanish visa, so I can’t go back easily.”

Not to mention I was in Spain with a fake passport to start with.

I used my own passport to come back to Australia. I figured that if I was going to be flagged when I came in, I might as well find out right away. But Juan Cardeñas had clearly kept the promise he made when he had me released from jail: that he’d make sure nobody, including Rodrigo,knew where I went, as well as ensuring that the charges didn’t stick to my real name.

But what if he lied?

Because whatever deal I made with Juan won’t matter one bit to his son. And if Rodrigo ever finds me, he won’t settle for seeing me punished by the nice, polite Australian authorities.

No. Rodrigo wants me to suffer.

A lot.

Preferably at his own hands.

Rodrigo was a dumb, nasty bully when my then-boyfriend double-crossed him. I can’t imagine he’s gotten any better since his father’s death.

And he isn’t the only shadow waiting in the darkness. Nor even the worst one.

It’s an effort to push the old ghosts away. Then again, I’ve lived with those ghosts for a long time.

I drag myself back to the present, forcing myself to smile at Mum. “I could only get two years residency in Spain, on a student visa. After that, I stayed in the country illegally for a while, which is kind of easy to do there. But I can’t go back now, or at least, not for a while. And I don’t think it’s fair to be godmother to a baby I can’t see.”

I take a large mouthful of wine. Then another.

I’m not going to lie. The fact that I’m not there, holding Darya’s hand through labor, is killing me. I also know that if I ever picked her baby up, I’d never be able to leave.

“But you wanted to stay.” Mum’s eyes on me are uncomfortably sharp. “You wanted to be godmother to your friend’s baby?”

I nod. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I wanted that very much.”

“So you’ll go back, then? When the... visa issue is resolved?”

If only it were that simple.

“I don’t think so.” I force a bright smile onto my face. “And anyway, I had to come home sometime, I guess.”

A short silence follows, which Mum finally breaks. “I always wanted to travel.”

I glance at her in surprise. “I never knew that.”

“No.” She stares out over the paddocks. “You wouldn’t. It wasn’t really the way I was raised, you know, to go traveling. Farmers don’t tend to take long holidays.”

She gives me a wry smile, which I return. That much I remember from my childhood.

“Your dad always said you’d come back. I wasn’t so sure, though. I know I... said some things, the last time we spoke.”

“Oh, no!” I put my hand over hers. “It wasn’t your fault, Mum. I was young—and bloody stupid, if I’m honest. I just wanted to get out of here. I didn’t care how or to where. But your advice was solid. You were right to tell me to save some money, even if you were wrong about what I should study. I just didn’t want to hear advice from anyone, especially not—”

Oops.I bite my lip.Did it again.

“Especially not me.” She nods. “Who’d never been anywhere or done anything.” She glances at me. “I understand that, Abby. I do. I just don’t understand why...” She takes a rather large gulp of wine.

Guilt washes over me.

“Why I didn’t ever contact you after that horrible postcard I sent from Thailand?” My voice is slightly rough.

Mum nods, not looking at me.