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This is delicious.” Will extends an arm around Farrah’s shoulders, squeezes.

The table Farrah reserved is at the edge of the terrace, overlooking the sea. Food has been laid out feast-style—platters of wafer-thin beetroot drizzled with herb sauce, strips of sticky beef, sprouting broccoli. Another plate is piled high with battered vegetables, pickled chilies, flatbreads dimpled with char.

“Perks.” Farrah smiles openly, easily, but Elin notices a worry line creasing her brow. She recalls their earlier chat about Farrah’s ex.

“So, did I choose okay?” Forking some salad onto his plate, Will gestures at Elin’s dress.

“Ooh,” Farrah says and smiles. “You let Will pack for you. Risky move.”

As Will pulls a mock-wounded face, they both burst into laughter. Elin’s smile, when it comes, is hesitant—she’s pulled up short, as she always is when the siblings are together. The physical similarities are an arresting sight.

Will takes Elin’s hand in his. “Anyway, it’s good being here, with both of you, even if it is under these circumstances.” He hesitates. “What about Steed? Didn’t fancy joining us?”

“I asked, but he’s already eaten. Said he’s following up on a few things.” Elin actually thinks work was an excuse for some time alone. Despite Steed’s bonhomie, she senses from his remarks about lengthy solo runs that he’s a bit of an introvert at heart.

Farrah nods. “Have you got much left to do tomorrow? Might be nice to get some fun in as well as work.”

“Not much, only statements.” Reluctant to go into any more detail, Elin ends the conversation by forking a vegetable into her mouth. The batter collapses, impossibly thin. There’s ricotta inside, flecked with some kind of herb. It’s delicious, but she feels her stomach clench as she swallows. The heat, she thinks. Even now, it’s unbearable.

Farrah’s phone beeps and as she taps out a message in reply, Will puts his hand over Elin’s. “I feel better, now I’m here. That Twitter thing, it got to me. Hated the thought of you being out here with that hanging over you...”

Elin doesn’t get a chance to reply. Farrah’s phone rings loudly, drowning out the end of his sentence. Shaking her head, Farrah glances at the screen.

“Take it,” Will says and Elin nods in agreement. Farrah meets her gaze, smiling.

“So it looks like things are going well between you two, then?” Will says lightly as Farrah pushes back her chair, leaves the table.

“Yeah, we had a good chat earlier. What you said, about her ex, you were right, I—” She stops. Farrah’s already walking back toward them.

“Got rid of them.” Farrah slips her phone in her pocket. “A supplier. Never allowed to switch off.”

“Maybe another glass will help.” As Elin reaches for the bottle of wine, starts to pour, she notices Hana Leger, Bea’s sister, weaving her way through the restaurant. Her hair is limp, the white dress grubby, a shade darker, as if it’s absorbed the detritus of the day.

Elin’s immediately struck by Hana’s awkwardness, by her not quite being at ease inside her own body. Craning her neck, she looks past her, to see if the rest of the group are there.

“Who’s that?” Will takes the wine from her, pours himself another glass.

“The sister of the woman who fell. She saw her, on the rocks.”

He frowns. “She doesn’t look in a good way.”

“No.” Elin pauses, wary about how honest she should be. “We spoke earlier. She was obviously upset—about her sister, but she mentioned the island, too, the curse, the old school...”

Will shakes his head. “Christ, I don’t get it, all this banging on about the past.”

“I know.” Farrah nods. “Time to move on.”

Elin stiffens, not only at the instant dismissal, but at how instinctively Will and Farrah have formed a unit. “But I think it’s natural for people to make associations with the island’s history. Surely for some people it’s part of the reason why they come. Curiosity. It’s creepy, the Creacher murders, the curse. You can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“The whole point of this place was to create something new,” Will says stiffly. “To reimagine.” He gestures around at the other diners. “Seems to be working for most people.”

“Even so, you can’t just wallpaper over it.”

The smile slips from his face. He and Farrah sit there, silent. Two blank, impassive faces. Elin flushes. She’s done this before with Will’s family—ruined the convivial mood, splintered the tempo of the night mid-bar by saying something controversial. She kicks herself. She and Farrah had made progress earlier. Now she’s ruined it.

Farrah changes the topic. The conversation carries on for a while, but the dynamic is off, stilted and awkward. It’s a relief when Elin’s phone sounds a few minutes later. She tips the screen toward her. Another text from Steed.

Might be of interest: Seth Delaney has a criminal record. Dealing. Class As.

She texts back: Thx. Will ask about it tomorrow.

No action needed now, but it’s the perfect excuse. Draining her wine, she pushes back her chair, stands up. “Steed’s sent something through I’d better check on. I’ll leave you to it.”

Will nods. “See you back in the villa.”

Elin turns and quickly walks away, but not quickly enough to miss the pointed glance exchanged between him and Farrah.