I tried to retrace Finn’s movements over the last week, the times I had seen him and the times he had gone home or gone to work on the rewilding project. Saffy had left the bothy sometime between Thursday evening and Friday morning, which was when Luna had taken her food and discovered she was no longer in the hut in the woods. Brodie had seen her at around four on Thursday afternoon, then spent the evening with Rowan. He returned home at nine thirty, where he stayed all night until the following morning. His parents confirmed this. Finn was at home on Thursday night with Cassie. I had seen him that afternoon, when I picked up the girls from school. Saffy wasn’t there, but then none of the friends she’d made were—they were all still in the woods, finishing up a poetry project. I assumed she’d be home later.
Finn had dropped me, Luna, and Clover back home at the bothy.
“Aren’t you coming in?” I’d said to him when he left the engine running. “I’ve made lasagne. No eggs.”
He smiled. “I promised Cassie I’d spend some time with her tonight. Didn’t I, Cass?”
She pouted and looked from Luna and Clover to her dad. “But, Daa-aad! Luna and Clover said we’d do a pony party tonight. Didn’t we?”
All three girls nodded in dejection.
“Aw, come on, Cass,” he said. “You’ve got to make time for your old man.”
And she’d relented. But even at the time, I’d noticed that Finn had seemed pointedly unwilling to come inside. A part of me had taken it as a sign that he was distancing himself from me.
I couldn’t believe that he’d taken Saffy. But doubt crept in, and I felt horrified at what he might have done to her. Who could I trust?
I retraced my steps, thought carefully about every detail, every word spoken. On Friday evening I’d taken Luna and Clover for a nature hunt around the small island of the Longing. We’d gathered up some shells and flowers, then stood on the outcrop and waved to Basil, who was still hanging around the bay. That night, we’d stood and tried to find the major constellations until the cold forced us indoors. I’d heard the door open and close, and I could have sworn that I heard Saffy go upstairs and climb into bed.
I hated myself for not checking. Two minutes. That’s all it would have taken for me to discover that she wasn’t at home.
I don’t think I could bring myself to fully imagine why Finn might have taken Saffy. My mind lurched to those moments I could recall her being with us. How had he looked at her? How had he spoken to her? Jokes he’d told, moments where I might not have seen him touching her . . .
I woke up the next morning, shocked to have dozed off. I was in the living room, still fully clothed and curled up in the armchair Finn claimed was his grandfather’s.
“Mum?”
I looked up to find Luna standing there in her day clothes. Her dark hair was disheveled from sleep and she’d dragged her duvet with her and wore it wrapped around her like a cape.
“Where’s Clover?” she said sleepily, looking around the room.
“It’s early,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. “She’ll still be asleep.”
Luna looked back at her room. “She’s not in bed.”
I studied her face for a half second before racing into their bedroom and searching the room. She was right—Clover wasn’t there. Nor was she in the bathroom, the kitchen, or hiding in a cupboard.
“Clover, please!” I shouted. “This isn’t funny. Where are you? Please come out!”
I opened the front door and lurched outside, where angry white waves were smashing across the causeway. I searched the Longing, taking the rickety staircase two steps at a time until I reached the lantern room.
Empty.