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of its relevance and it is still painful to recall. ‘It’s hard to remember now,’ I muttered. ‘I don’t spend much time thinking about it, these days. We were just teenagers. Teenagers do silly things.’
    I didn’t tell John about the incident with Mr McCreadie, the supermarket manager. He already knew more than was his business and it had happened such a long time ago. I wanted to be the one to ask the questions but John continued, ‘That’s quite an understatement. And you had your own little holiday at Her Majesty’s pleasure. How was that?’
    He knew everything about me. Why would Owen tell him all of this? What had it mattered to Owen by then?
    ‘You’ve gone quiet, Isabel. I can see that you’re deeply uncomfortable with the fact that Owen shared so many stories with me. Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone screws up sometimes. I certainly have.’
    ‘Good for you. But, unlike other people, I don’t need to talk about it.’
    The path was wider here. John stopped for me to catch up and we continued walking side by side. I wanted to change the subject but could think of nothing else to speak about.
    ‘It was a strange time,’ I told him eventually. ‘After Julia disappeared, none of us was really normal. I mean, not until we left the area. I’m sure it was the same for all of her friends, in different ways. We got up to things that didn’t feel as if they belonged to us. Don’t think I’m trying to deny responsibility for what Owen and I did. I’m not, but one way or another we were controlled by Julia – or her absence – for at least a couple of years. I grew out of it the minute I left this area. You see? I put it behind me and have been fine ever since.’
    ‘Julia’s ghost was leading you astray.’
    ‘No, that’s not what I mean. Not like that. Just that we weren’t capable of understanding everything, not that anyone tried to explain a single bit of it. There was no counselling in those days, nothing like that. No one came to analyse pictures we drew, or to sit with us in circles and share memories of Julia. Nothing but a terrible silence around Julia’s absence. Double nothing. It was bound to leave us – well – restless.’
    ‘If only she could come back and tell you what happened.’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
    Of course I had thought the very same thing myself, many times, but it was idiotic to say it aloud.
    ‘Or maybe you know what happened?’
    ‘How could I? No one knows.’
    ‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it? Look at all the colours. There’s the blue of the reservoir, the exquisite green of the mallards, the brown branches of the trees. It’s alive even in November. I can’t imagine how beautiful this village must be in spring and summer. It must have been a lovely place to grow up. I bet you were always roaming over the moors or coming down here to feed the ducks. Did you have a bike?’
    ‘Yes, an old one. I don’t remember cycling by the reservoir but I’m sure I did. I suppose it wasn’t a bad place to be, till Julia went. I didn’t grow up anywhere else so I’ve nothing to compare it with. Yeah, maybe it was nice.’
    ‘This was the sort of place I fantasized about when I was a kid. I always lived in cities. Never liked them much. There’s very little wildlife, and even keeping a pet is harder in the city. I had an old bone-shaker I used to cycle around on but I wanted to be in the countryside. The woman next to me on the bus said that this is Eva somebody land, or some name like Eva. Eve? Ena?’
    ‘Eva Carter.’ I smiled. After many years here Maggie couldn’t stand the village – just a clique of nosy, uptight Tories, she said – and sold her big house and garden for a small terraced house in London. The town moralists and gossips belonged in the 1950s, she used to say. It was impossible to feel anything with these stuffed mattresses. She craved passionate, wild-tempered neighbours, or some such thing, but she didn’t find them here. She