That night, Jo came round for dinner. After Noah went to bed, I told her about Amber's visit.

Jo put down her wine.

“Rach, I've always wondered something,” she said. “Who took those photos?”

I'd kept them all these years, in a shoebox at the top of my wardrobe. I'd never been able to look at them for long. Now I spread them across the kitchen table.

Me and Dan at the hotel bar, laughing. Me hugging Dan.

“He was saying goodbye,” I said. “His wife, Ellie, was right there. We'd all had dinner together. But she's not in any of these.”

“Because they've been cropped,” said Jo. She held one up to the light. “Look. The edge is too close. Someone cut her out.”

Then she pointed at something I'd never noticed. In the mirror behind the bar, very small, was a man in a grey jacket, holding a camera.

I found Dan's number and called him. We hadn't spoken in years.

“I remember that night,” Dan said. “There was a bloke with a camera. Ellie thought he was weird. He left a business card for the barman. Something like... Pike. Pike Investigations.”