Like Frances and Ambrose, she couldn’t bring herself to think the worst had happened. The whole Standington-Fulthrope family, dreadfully upset themselves, all rallied round her. Her parents called twice a day from Barbados to check up on her and see if there was any progress on the case. Camilla started having dreadful nightmares and waking up screaming and drenched in sweat, so Calypso shared her bed on the nights she wasn’t with Angus. Camilla also handed her notice in at work. ‘I was going to anyway, for the wedding.’ She spent hours walking Errol Flynn, working on the ball, and feverishly cleaning No. 5 The Green. Anything that would keep her busy and stop her thinking what could have happened to her dear, dear Harriet. Her absence was like an awful, yawning chasm. The pair had been in contact every day for most of their lives; if not seeing each other, then by phone and ‘Forever Friends’ cards and, later on, emails and text messages. Camilla didn’t know what to do without Harriet.
