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Much later in the day Cristy was standing alone at the window of David’s bedroom staring through her own pensive reflection down to the ornamental lake at the heart of the Gaudion estate’s small valley. A veil of mist was drifting across the glassy water where a floating platform of fireworks was being prepared for the New Year’s Eve celebrations at midnight. Daylight was fast disappearing, yielding to the murk of a damp winter’s night, but the earlier storm had subsided leaving everyone hopeful for a grand display at the magical hour.

On a good day she’d be able to glimpse the sea from here, which made her think of Sadie’s aunts and the hilltop holiday home overlooking the Severn Estuary. Where exactly could that have been, she wondered. Presumably, somewhere on the Exmoor coast. She’d read the printed pages again, and had found herself drawn quite easily back into Lottie’s rescue of the little girl on the beach. What a strange thing to happen, presuming it did. Who on earth would leave a child alone at the edge of such a dangerously tidal stretch of water? Who had created the small girl who’d grown into such a beauty?

She was intrigued by the aunts too, seeming so reclusive on the one hand, and yet clearly not, given Lottie’s promiscuousness and overseas travels. If the story was based in fact then Sadie Winters’ real name was Sasha. More importantly, and intriguingly, had she really been found on a beach, or was this odd sort of memoir a purposeful rewriting of history? If so, it couldn’t have been concocted with Sadie in mind, given the sisters’ efforts to pass the girl off as their niece. So who had it been for?

Before coming upstairs she’d scanned the pages in David’s home office and sent them to Connor, her partner on the podcast, to get his take on things. They’d talk in the morning, or maybe he’d call after he’d read them.

Hearing the door open she turned and smiled as David came into the room looking puzzled and concerned, clearly wondering why she was up here when there was so much going on downstairs.

‘Sorry,’ she said, as he came to embrace her. ‘I just needed a few minutes. I’ll come now to help get everything ready for this evening.’

‘There are caterers,’ he reminded her.

‘Nevertheless …’

He stopped her with a kiss and then another that deepened with the kind of promise not easy to resist.

‘Dad! Are you in there?’

He groaned as his head fell back in frustration. ‘Go away,’ he shouted.

‘Can I come in?’ Rosaria shouted back.

‘No!’

Cristy laughed. ‘At least she’s asking,’ she said, reminding him of this morning when Rosie had waltzed right in without knocking. Luckily they’d simply been lying in bed, covered by a sheet. Had Rosie arrived a few minutes earlier …

‘I want to,’ Rosie grumbled.

Caving in, Cristy went to open the door and felt such a rush of affection for David’s eldest that she spontaneously drew her into an enormous hug, despite Rosie being a grown woman. Rosie was simply the sweetest, gentlest and kindest soul in the world whose extra chromosome seemed, for some reason, to make her love people and enjoy life more than anyone else Cristy knew. Thirty-two she might be, with Down’s and an autoimmune condition, but nothing ever upset her for long, or held her back from sharing a secret, or dampened her enthusiasm for a project.

‘Granny’s too busy to take me to the theatre,’ she told her father, ‘and we’ve got a show at seven, so you’ll have to drive me there.’

‘You’re on stage tonight?’ he exclaimed in alarm.

‘You know I am, but I’ll be back in plenty of time for the party. I can’t let everyone down, Dad, so please .’

Clearly not thrilled David said, ‘Does it mean I have to sit through another performance of Beauty and the Beast in order to bring you home again ? I’ve already seen it a hundred times.’

‘He hasn’t,’ Rosie told Cristy, ‘because it hasn’t been open that long. Oh, I know!’ she suddenly cried excitedly, ‘Anna can take me and bring Sadie. Sadie hasn’t seen it yet and she said she wants to. I’ll go and find Anna.’

As she raced off to find her sister, Cristy closed the door and laughed at the way David was thanking God for his narrow escape.

‘Speaking of Sadie Winters,’ he said, going to the small bar he kept on a trolley next to the fireplace, ‘how have you left it with her? Does the story interest you?’

‘Yes, it does,’ Cristy admitted, sinking down on the sofa. ‘Have you read the pages she brought to me today?’

‘I have,’ he replied, handing her a Scotch. ‘I found the resonance, perhaps I should say possibility, of truth in the story … unsettling?’

Cristy nodded as he sat down with her. ‘Made more so by the use of real names. Anyway, I’d certainly like to read more – presuming there is more – but if Lottie’s computers have gone … Why would she only have printed out a few pages? Why print out any at all?’

‘I’ve no idea about that, but if you’re not able to leave tomorrow maybe you could meet Mia Winters. She’s an … interesting character.’

‘How so?’

He tilted his head as he thought. ‘I’d say she’s … mercurial. The minute you think you’ve pinned her to something you realize she “left the room” a while ago. Lottie was far easier to deal with; straight-talking, a woman of her word, and of the world; a real dynamo, especially when it came to fundraisers, sailing and tennis. She certainly liked to win; in fact she was on the court when she died.’

‘Heart attack?’

He nodded. ‘Quite sudden and very shocking given she was only mid-sixties. Mia took it hard; Sadie did too. Lottie was the life-force in that house – and if anyone knew how to throw a party it was her.’

Starting to feel sorry that she’d never meet her, Cristy said, ‘I’m not sure if Sadie will want me to speak to Mia. She hasn’t told her about the pages she found yet.’

‘Mmm, I guess that doesn’t surprise me. She’s very protective of her aunt, and obviously nervous of what she might discover the further into this she goes, but it’ll be hard getting to the truth if you can’t question Mia. On the other hand, even if you do, like I said, she’s a hard one to pin down.’

Cristy sipped her Scotch as she thought. ‘It’s early days,’ she said, ‘and Sadie’s going to carry on looking for more pages that might connect with the ones we have so far. Apparently there are dozens and dozens of boxes full of ideas for short stories, chapters from some, the ends or beginnings of others, even complete ones apparently.’

They sat quietly for a while, each with their own thoughts, hers mostly still with Sadie and her aunts, until their drinks were finished and it really was time to go downstairs.

‘Incidentally,’ she said, as they reached the door. ‘Where is Juliette staying?’

David’s brows rose in surprise, as if he hadn’t even considered his ex-partner’s needs, although he clearly had, because he said, ‘She’s in the second bed in Laurent’s room.’ This kind of made sense since Juliette was Laurent’s mother – Laurent being the youngest of David’s children, aged twelve. ‘The cottages are all taken, bar one,’ he continued, ‘but it seemed a bit mean to put her out there on her own when the rest of the family is going to be here.’

Cristy smiled. Family. ‘I’m sure Laurent’s already loving having his mum around,’ she said, ‘and I’m looking forward to meeting her.’

Seeming pleased by that, he said, ‘I think you’ll like her. She’s very … French , in a good way …’

‘Is there a bad way?’

He laughed. ‘She kind of has that coined too, but she’s a good mother to Laurent …’

‘Even though he lives here, with you?’

‘It makes more sense. He’s settled in school, his friends are here and he has family around him. In Paris there’s only Juliette and her aristo-arty set who aren’t really interested in children.’ His eyes narrowed as he regarded her closely. ‘Are you OK with her being here?’ he asked warily.

‘Of course,’ she insisted, though not entirely sure this was true. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

He smiled. ‘No reason I can think of. Now, we’d better go down before Mum sends up a search party.’

*

There were only a few minutes to go before midnight when Cristy looked around the crowded party in search of David. She hadn’t seen him in a while, but there were so many people here. It seemed half the island had come and the volume of chat along with the music was so loud it was almost impossible to hear what anyone was saying. Papillon , as Rosie called the Gaudion estate in honour of her dead mother’s love of butterflies, was apparently the place to be on New Year’s Eve. Cristy briefly reflected on Lexie Gaudion, the great love of David’s life whose terrible and tragic death had been the focus of Cristy’s last podcast series. She wondered if Lexie and David had thrown parties like this, everyone in black tie and evening dresses, glasses brimming with fine wines, champagne on ice ready for midnight and trays of delicious canapés being passed around by uniformed catering staff.

Spotting Cynthia, David’s mother, with her other son, Richard, and his wife, Astrid, Cristy slipped through the throng, clinking glasses with as many strangers as extended family as she went, until she almost stumbled into Richard, laughing as he caught her, and asked if any of them had seen David.

‘He went down to check on the fireworks,’ Cynthia told her, her dear, crumpled face flushed with delight as a waiter refilled her glass with a classic white Bordeaux. ‘Five minutes to go!’ she cheered joyfully.

‘Have you heard from your children yet?’ Richard shouted in Cristy’s ear.

‘Just,’ she shouted back.

Laughing, Richard, who was very like David to look at, only shorter, greyer and stockier, raised his glass to ‘absent friends’ as his wife leaned in to say, ‘I saw you talking to Juliette earlier. How did it go?’

Having struck up an easy rapport with Astrid over Christmas, Cristy was able to say, dryly, ‘To quote David, Elle est très francaise .’

Astrid threw back her head as she laughed, while Cynthia said, ‘She’s a canny one is Juliette, and frankly, I’m not too sure she’s happy about you being here.’

‘She’s not,’ Cristy confirmed, but decided not to elaborate. Juliette, with her swanlike neck, voluptuous mouth and boyish cap of sleek dark hair, could have stepped straight from the pages of Vogue. And this evening she was all chic sophistication and supreme elegance in a black silk sheath dress that showed the toned perfection of her shapely body to an annoying degree. It was no wonder David had been captivated by her, she was sensational and sensual to an almost indecent extreme.

‘You look stunning,’ Cristy had told her, trying to be friends, while already knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

‘Sank you,’ Juliette had responded in a throaty French accent. ‘David has always had good taste in women.’ She hadn’t even tried to temper the immodesty with a smile, unless of course it was meant as a compliment to Cristy as well. ‘How long are you staying?’ she’d asked, her eyes holding to Cristy’s as she took a sip of her drink.

‘I’m not sure,’ Cristy replied, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was planning to leave in the morning, weather permitting.

‘I do hope we have some time to get to know one another,’ Juliette smiled. ‘I hear you’re quite fascinating.’

Cristy wanted to laugh, so she did. ‘It’s lovely of you to come and see the New Year in with Laurent,’ she said.

Juliette’s pretty head tilted to one side. ‘How could I not when David was so insistent?’

Touché , Cristy thought, feeling the warmth drain from her smile.

‘He gets very lonely here all alone on this island,’ Juliette continued. ‘I feel bad for ’im, but it was not possible for me to stay. I adore Paris , it is in my blood, and there is too little here in the way of sophistication. I am sure you have found the same, non ?’

‘Not really,’ Cristy replied smoothly. ‘I think it has a lot going for it.’

Appearing surprised, Juliette said, ‘So will he persuade you to stay?’ Before Cristy could reply she leaned in closer and whispered, ‘I sink it is only fair to tell you that ’e ’as asked me, only today, if I’d reconsider moving back here. Not only for Laurent’s sake, you understand, for his too. You see, we still have a strong connection, and neither of us can quite break it, though I am not sure that we try very ’ard.’ She drew back to gaze deeply into Cristy’s eyes before raising her glass to her lips again and turning to greet someone close by.

There was no sign of her now, not that Cristy was keen to find her. However, with David also missing she couldn’t help wondering …

‘OK, everyone!’ Richard shouted above the din. ‘Time to get your coats if you’re going outside. Heating’s on in the garden room if you want to watch from there. Three minutes to go!’

‘Garden room?’ Astrid invited, linking Cristy’s arm.

Allowing herself to be ushered along with the others, Cristy looked around for David again, but there was still no sign of him. Deciding he must still be down at the lake she took the frosted flute of champagne Astrid was passing and followed Cynthia to the huge picture windows. Though it was inky dark outside there was a small sea of torchlights bobbing about in the valley, reflecting on the water and making everything seem spectral and enticing.

‘Where’s David?’ Cynthia cried in Cristy’s ear.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Cristy shouted back.

‘He should be here. Oh, will you look at Rosie out there without a coat.’

It was only when everyone was yelling ‘Happy New Year’ and the first fireworks soared and exploded into the sky that Cristy finally spotted him outside, walking quickly towards the house. Then she saw Juliette, watching him from the entrance of a gazebo, and it was impossible not to think that they’d just stolen some moments together.

Feeling the phone buzz in her hand she checked the screen. It was Matthew, her ex-husband, wishing her Happy New Year in spite of it still being only four in the afternoon where he was, in LA. Can we talk? I need you. Mx

‘Cristy! Happy New Year!’

She looked up to find Sadie and Anna bearing down on her, both slopping champagne over their fingers, eyes bright with excitement.

‘I’ve found some more,’ Sadie told her as they embraced. ‘It’s only a few pages, but it’s definitely the same story.’

‘There you are!’ David cried, taking Cristy’s arm and turning her around. ‘I’m sorry for missing the big moment, but Happy New Year.’

‘Oh God, they’re going to snog,’ Anna groaned. ‘There’s something really ick when it’s your father.’

‘Then don’t look,’ he said, and planting a hand over her face he pulled Cristy to him. ‘Happy New Year,’ he whispered against her lips.

‘Happy New Year,’ she echoed, yielding to the kiss. Then pulling back she searched his eyes. She could find nothing duplicitous in them, no trace of guilt or anger or of wanting to be elsewhere. Even so, she couldn’t help noticing that along with the scent of cool night air and his own musky cologne there was a trace of Juliette’s distinctive eau de parfum .