‘What do you mean, you can’t make it? What sort of talk is that?’

‘I just can’t make it this year.’

‘I feel jolly well offended you’d even suggest such a thing!’

‘Oh, Mum, please, there’s no need to be!’

‘Some sort of Weight Watchers party, did you say?’

‘Not exactly. It’s more of a function, I guess you’d call it.’

‘Wouldn’t be much of a party, would it? Everyone standing around chomping on celery sticks, looking miserable and skinny. I know where I’d rather be!’

‘It’s not really anything to do with Weight Watchers. It’s just somebody from Weight Watchers has asked me to go to this thing.’

‘And you said yes! To this thing! You actually said yes! You can’t just not be here! You’ve always been here for the Anniversary. Every year of your entire life!’

Enigma is utterly baffled. She can’t believe that Margie is being so uncharacteristically wilful. Laura was the naughty one. Margie was a good, pliable girl, which seemed only fair, what with all the problems that Laura caused. And now here Margie is at the age of fifty-five saying she ‘can’t make it’ to the Anniversary and pressing her lips together as if that’s all there is to say on the matter. People can’t just go changing their personalities willy-nilly when they’re middle-aged.

Suddenly Enigma snaps her fingers triumphantly. ‘Aha! I know what this is all about. It’s The Change!’

‘Oh Lord, Mum. I’m not menopausal.’

Enigma surveys her daughter through narrowed eyes. She looks different. Skinnier! She leans forward and points with an accusing finger. ‘Margaret Anne! You’ve lost weight!’

Margie sighs. ‘Well, yes, Mum. I’ve lost two stone. I’m nearly at my goal weight. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed before.’

‘Well, I don’t look at you when I see you every day, do I? No need to get offended. I expect you do have the menopause. Your face is quite pink.’

‘That’s because I’m feeling frustrated. I still think we should cancel the Anniversary this year as a mark of respect to Connie.’

Enigma cries, ‘Connie would never want the Anniversary cancelled.’

‘I guess that’s true.’ Margie smiles slightly. Her face is thinner, notices Enigma. It makes everything about her seem more definite. ‘Well, I’ve organised everything for the night, Mum. The staff are really very competent, you know. It will all run like clockwork. And the whole family will be there. Rose, Thomas and Debbie, Veronika, Grace and Callum, Sophie–you won’t even notice I’m not there!’

Enigma decides to hold off bursting into tears. ‘Of course I’ll notice. Both my daughters deserting me! What will people think? My parents deserted me seventy-three years ago and now my daughters do the same thing.’ It’s true! Enigma is pleased to feel a genuine tickling sensation in her nose as she considers how poorly she has been treated.

‘It sounds like you’re starting to believe your own publicity, Mum.’

‘I beg your pardon? I don’t know what that means. Are you trying to sound sophisticated or something? All I know is that the Anniversary is very important to me.’

‘Is it?’ Margie looks at her mother curiously. ‘But why?’

‘What do you mean, why? It’s a special family event. We have fun! And it’s about my life, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, Mum, let’s be honest. The Anniversary is about business. It’s about cash flow.’

Enigma carefully pulls out her hanky from her handbag and takes a deep shuddery breath. It’s time for tears.

39

I am searching for any information relating to the disappearance of ALICE AND JACK MUNRO on SCRIBBLY GUM ISLAND on 15 July 1932. I am especially interested in meeting anyone who knew the Munros or who had parents or grandparents who knew them. Possible monetary reward for QUALITY information. Please contact Veronika Gordon at [email protected]

Veronika puts down her pen and blows her nose. She is at the tail end of her flu and still feels a little weak and light-headed. She ended up having to stay at Aunt Connie’s house with Sophie for two days. She could barely walk! Sophie had made her chicken soup and even rubbed Vicks on her back, which Veronika found soothing, as well as…disturbing.

‘Hello!’

Veronika looks up suspiciously. A girl with shiny black hair stands in front of her, holding a coffee mug and a plate with a large Florentine biscuit. She says, ‘I know you from the gym! Boxercise for the Broken Hearted!’

It’s that annoying Asian girl who always kicks with the wrong leg or punches with the wrong arm. Veronika says, ‘Oh yes, I recognise you.’

‘I’m so uncoordinated in that class!’

‘Well, yes, you are,’ says Veronika.

‘I’m not sure if I’m broken-hearted any more, but the class is still fun, isn’t it? Shall I join you?’

Before Veronika has a chance to say anything the girl is sitting at her table, putting her coffee and biscuit down, flicking back her hair. ‘What’s that you’re working on?’

‘It’s an ad I’m putting in the paper.’

‘A personal ad?’ The girl dimples at her.

‘Well, no. I’m trying to solve a mystery.’

‘Aren’t we all! Want some of my biscuit?’

‘All right.’

Veronika takes a bite of the biscuit. It’s delicious: sweet and crunchy. The girl raises her eyebrows at Veronika over the rim of her coffee mug. Her almond-shaped eyes are so dark they’re almost black. Her fingers on the handle of her mug are long and fragile, like an artist’s. She bites her nails. She’s wearing a ring with a tiny green stone.

Veronika has the funniest, most exhilarating feeling that a far more interesting mystery than Alice and Jack is about to be solved.

Sophie is in her dressing gown, getting ready for her first date with Ian the Sweet Solicitor, when Grace turns up unexpectedly. The baby is in a sling against her chest, a dimpled tiny hand clutching Grace’s shirt.

‘Hello, Jake! Look at you!’ Sophie, besotted as always, runs a finger along the curve of his creamy flushed cheek. His brown eyes rest inquisitively on Sophie and then dart away, intrigued by something over her shoulder.