“It is,” Cat said, grinning. “It really is.”

“While you’ve got that open,” Willa said, “would you mind if I showed Robyn my new website?”

“Sure,” Cat said, “go ahead.”

Willa took the computer and balanced it half on her knees, and half on mine. Obviously she hadn’t purposely meant to exclude Cat, but still, I could see how it might have looked like that. Cat glanced at me then, after a moment, hauled herself up off the sofa and walked stiffly toward the kitchen. Meanwhile Willa had opened a site called findlaika.com.

“Oh, wow,” I said.

At the top of the first page there were two photographs. One was familiar to me: it was the one the press still used sometimes, showing a startled-looking teenage girl half hidden behind a thick fringe. The other was a slightly fuzzy image of two much younger girls, the taller of whom, smiling and dressed in a yellow frock with a Peter Pan collar, was instantly recognizable as Willa. She had her arm around the shoulders of a younger dark-haired girl who was squinting into the sun, one arm held across her forehead and half her face in shadow.

“It’s a bit amateur, I know, but it’s the best I could manage. It’s for Laika more than anything. I just hope, you know, if she ever googled her name…or somebody might recognize her—she could have amnesia, right? It’s got a mailbox too, so people can contact me directly. Actually, could I make you an admin? That way we can talk about anything that comes in. And also look at this.”

She scrolled down until a further image filled the screen, an e-fit impression of a serious-looking young woman with large brown eyes and closely cropped hair.

“It’s an age-progression image of what she might look like now, at twenty. What d’you think?”

“I thought she had long hair.”

I began reading the post below the e-fit. Dated just a few days before, it was addressed directly to Laika herself.

“My beloved Laika,” it read.

Not a day goes by when I don’t think of you. This week I came across a new word: syzygy. Even before I looked it up I knew it was going to mean something amazing: I mean, you can tell that just by looking at the word. Syzygy. How fabulous is that? So you don’t need to go to the trouble of finding a dictionary, I’ll tell you right now what it means: it’s an alignment of planets. And, ever since I read that, I keep thinking that someday the planets will align and you will appear. And then we’ll spend our entire time laughing and talking and everything will be wonderful. What I really mean is, everything will be normal, and that’s honestly all I want. For things to be normal. I know you are out there, somewhere. I hope you know how much I miss you and how much I wish you were here. And I hope that, wherever you are, you are surrounded by animals and the sound of the ocean.

My beloved sister, I miss you so much.

All my love,

Willa xxx

Willa looked at me with eyes full of such feeling that for a moment I felt speechless and lost. I took her hand and held it, touch closing the years between us. I was filled with an almost unbearable sadness for her. How hard it must be, I thought, to keep believing, with so very little to go on, when the whole world thinks she’s dead. We sat like that for a while, both of us lost in thought, until I felt that strange sensation of being watched. When I looked up, Cat was staring at the two of us from across the room, her face unsmiling and tense. I gave Cat a brief awkward smile, then squeezed Willa’s hand, patted it and let it go.

13 Vapor Trails Robyn

That September, Cat and I each took a week’s holiday so we could freshen up the flat. We started on the Friday night and were shoving the furniture about when somebody banged on our door. Cat opened it, and Willa was there, her face witchy-wild. She came straight over to me.

“I’ve got a hit on findlaika. Just now.”

I sat down beside her as she pulled a laptop out of her bag. The mailbox on her website was already open. I scanned the message quickly, and then again, more slowly.

“Shit.”

It read:

Hello, my name’s Katie Taylor and I’m writing about your sister. I’m in Thailand right now and I’m sure I’ve seen her. She’s on Phuket, the island? I’m attaching a pic. Sorry it’s not great but I was trying not to make it too obvious that I was taking it. She’s with another girl on Patong beach, at the top end near the Sheraton? Only I think you’ll have to act quick because the police here don’t like stuff like that. What do you want me to do? Do you want me to say anything? Attaching my contact details. Message me back. Love and hugs, Katie xoxo

Below the message was a photo of two young women.

“How would she get to Thailand?” Cat said.

I realized my eyes were darting around the screen, trying to absorb all the information as fast as possible, and I forced myself to slow down and take a proper, considered look at the two girls in the image. It was night, and they were sitting on a neon-lit pavement, cross-legged on mats. Both were wearing thin, strappy dresses that hung loosely about them, revealing grungy-looking bra straps and thin limbs that were either tanned or dirty, or perhaps both. They wore leather sandals and each had multiple string bracelets tied around her wrist. On the left of the picture one girl, with bright chestnut hair and brown eyes, sat upright and stared directly at the camera, an eager, open look on her face. The other was looking slightly down and away, as if lost in thought, her face shadowed by the night and a mass of long, messy, dark hair. Between the two of them was a bowl and the edge of a ragged cardboard sign with the words: please help.

“She’s begging,” Willa said. “It’s just awful.”

“Which one is Laika?” I said.

“How would she get to Thailand?” Cat asked again.

“This one.” Willa tapped her finger on the dark-haired girl and we both moved our heads closer to the screen.

“That’s her?”

“It’s definitely possible. Obviously she would have changed a lot. The angle’s a bit—”

“She’d need a passport to get to Thailand,” Cat said, “and a visa.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know.” Willa turned her eyes to me, her voice high and silvery. “I don’t know. I can’t tell. But those could definitely be her cheekbones. And that could definitely be the line of her jaw. I really, honestly think it is. It is. It’s her.”

“Tell the police,” Cat said, “or call the British Embassy. They can contact the embassy in Bangkok.”

“I tried the embassy, but they told me they’re short staffed. There’s some giant festival going on or something, a holiday, I don’t know. This is the first proper lead ever.”

“Willa,” Cat said, “hang on, slow down a bit. You don’t know for certain if that’s her; it’s not a clear photo. Why don’t you ask this Katie person to send another picture? A close-up. What if she’s wrong?”

“What d’you mean? There’s an actual photograph.”

“A debatable—”

Willa turned to me. “Tell me what you would do.”

“Well—”

“What would you do if Michael needed your help?”

“Michael? I’d help him, obviously.”

Willa held my eyes for a long moment. “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?” She paused. Slowly, she said, “You would. Right. Okay, then.” She stood up. “So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll fly to Phuket.”

“Willa,” Cat said, speaking slowly, “wait. You’re not really about to jump on a plane, are you?”

Willa looked her straight in the eyes. “Why?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you?”

We all stood looking at each other for a beat.

“With your mum?” I said.