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‘Fran?’ It’s Tristan.

I sag into his arms. My head is full of Jenna’s big, hopeful eyes as she held her little arms up and said, ‘Cawwoo,’ which she said instead of ‘carry’ till she was nearly three, and it takes a moment to remember the full context of this situation. I can’t imagine how my brother is feeling after hearing Georgia’s back. It can’t be nice to have to think about all of that again.

Behind us Father crows something about how he knew his son understood the importance of family dinners.

‘She hasn’t come home, Tris,’ I say.

He hugs me. ‘Oh, Fran, I’m sorry. I came as soon as I could.’ He holds me away from himself to look me in the eye. ‘She is sixteen though. Do you think maybe she’s just with some friends?’

I shake my head. Because now I’m not sure my daughter has any friends. It stabs in my chest. ‘No, I don’t. I have to call the police.’

He nods slowly. ‘Of course.’ In the dim light I can just see his lips flattening to a line.

His assistant Theo comes into the dark hallway. Tris shakes his head and mouths something.

‘You know, I just had a thought,’ says Theo, and my heart swells with hope. His cologne envelops me as he steps closer. ‘Frances, I’m so sorry – you must be losing your mind. But I think – it’s Glastonbury this weekend, isn’t it? Wasn’t she going to Glastonbury?’

My father calls through. ‘You see?’

Theo gives me a warm smile. He’s like a handsome, overgrown cherub – blond and pale and ruby-lipped. He squeezes my arm but I can see he feels awkward doing it.

She did want to go. She had asked me about it, months and months ago. ‘She told you she was going?’

‘No, but?—’

‘She didn’t have a ticket. How would she have got there?’

Theo shrugs and waggles his head, still giving me that hopeful smile. ‘I don’t know. But… The last time I picked her up she was talking about the line-up and?—’

‘She’s totally at Glastonbury,’ says Ash.

Tristan leads me back into the kitchen as Theo mouths I’ll be right back at me and darts away. I know I need to get out but this Glastonbury suggestion stops me – could she be there?

‘Did she tell you she was going, Ash? To Glastonbury?’ I ask.

He shrugs.

‘Yes or no?’

He pushes his hair back. ‘No.’

‘Ava?’ I ask.

She shakes her head. ‘If Jenna got tickets to Glastonbury, I think the whole world would know about it.’

I bite my lip. Exactly. It’s possible, I suppose, that Jenna is at Glastonbury, but I don’t believe it and there’s no way for me to find out if she didn’t tell anybody so it’s really neither here nor there.

‘Why were you asking about Miss Smith though, Auntie Fran?’ asks Ava, looking into her plate.

‘I think your aunt wanted to establish why this new teacher hadn’t thought to report your cousin missing,’ says Tristan.

Ava picks at a cuticle. ‘Sixth-formers don’t have to, like, take a register or anything. But then, why wouldn’t you want us talking about her?’

Tristan clears his throat and my heart aches for him. ‘Miss Smith is, ah…’

I take my phone out and start dialling. ‘We knew her once. We went to school with her. She’s not a very nice person.’ It isn’t the full picture, but I don’t think the kids need that. I wriggle away from Tristan’s arm and head back out, my thumb over the call button.

‘It’s just, I have seen them together – Jenna and Miss Smith.’

I stop. ‘What do you mean?’

‘In the library. I’ve seen them sitting together a couple of times.’

‘I’m not sure a teacher sitting with a student in the library counts as suspicious?’ says Father, and my head feels like it might pop.

It isn’t just any teacher. It isn’t just any student. If Georgia has been spending extra time with Jenna, then she’s up to no good. There just isn’t any other explanation.

But Father clears his throat. ‘Perhaps we should put away the fruitcake until after dinner? Shall we at least say grace? We have quite a bit to be thankful for and I’m not letting a silly little girl starve my family.’

I rub my temples. ‘I’m calling the police.’

Father rolls his eyes, Mother grabs her beads, Ash and Ava look sideways at each other but Tristan squeezes my arm. I feel like a petulant child. Thank God for Tristan.

I hurry into the foyer before anyone can stop me. I’m about to press call when my phone vibrates with a Mumsnet notification. I open up a new direct message and my heart stutters.

Yummummy25: Georgia Smith is poison. She hurt my little girl. STAY AWAY!