A needling of anxiety began at her brow. 'I need to know.'

He sighed. 'My brother was complex. He had so much talent. He was a phenomenal songwriter a poet, really. I've never heard lyrics that touch his. His fans saw this wild, irrepressible man on stage launching himself into the crowd or dancing like he was possessed but none of them knew how much he had to drink before he came on.' The breeze toyed with the edge of the parasol and blew a dusting of ash across the table. Mick brushed it away, smudging grey streaks into the wood.

'Harley wasn't always an easy person to get on with. He was very up and down. Things that washed off other people's backs, ate Harley up. He thought deeply about everything. It made him insular sometimes, and he could go for days without speaking to anyone. Other times he was wild, completely out of control.' Mick paused; thought for a moment. 'If I'm honest, I'm not sure he ever truly liked himself.'

Mia felt a shiver travel along the nape of her neck: in a handful of sentences Mick had described her.

'After Grace, he lost sight of everything, even his music. The band split up, I was gone, and he drained his money on booze and drugs. In a matter of months, he'd lost it all. He was a wreck.' He sighed. 'We were close, once. He was an astounding musician, but fronting a band never suited him. It was me that pushed him to do it. I had the business brain but not the talent. And I resented him for that.'

Mick wiped at a streak of ash he'd missed. 'I knew him better than anyone, so I understood exactly how hard it would have been for him after Grace. I heard he was feeling low, but I never called him.' Mick looked past Mia as if she were no longer there and he was alone with his memories. 'I was his brother. I knew how deeply he felt things.' His eyes were glassy. 'It was my responsibility to look after him, but my pride got in the way. I'll always be sorry for that.'

'What happened?' she asked, nervous now.

He looked at her and she saw the sadness in his face. 'Harley was found dead in a hotel room.' His voice didn't hold as he said, 'He hanged himself.'

Dazed, Mia returned the way she had come, but everything had changed.

She wasn't Mick's daughter.

Her father had committed suicide.

Her mother had kept it a secret.

Katie was her half-sister.

The sun blazed down against the crown of her head as she hurried along the pavement with her eyes to the ground. Her breathing was ragged and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Everything she believed had been a lie.

She had to call Katie. She needed to hear her voice. There was a payphone near the edge of town and she began to jog to it. Her legs felt disconnected from her brain. She ducked around two teenagers slurping milkshakes, then crossed the road, barely glancing to check the traffic.

The front edge of her flip-flop caught on a crack in the concrete and she stumbled forward, stubbing her toes. She bent and snatched off both flip-flops and, clutching them in one hand, she ran, the pavement rough and hot beneath her feet.

When she reached the payphone, she pulled her credit card from her wallet. Speak to Katie. Tell her everything. She lifted the receiver and slid the credit card into the slot.

She heard the dialling tone and screwed her eyes tightly shut, trying to remember the international code for the UK. When it came to her, she stabbed in the numbers with trembling hands.

A few seconds later, Katie answered. 'Hello?' The line crackled and fizzed, and Katie's voice sounded distant, as though the two of them were already separated.

Half-sisters.

Half.

She hated the term being applied to her and Katie, as it nailed a divide between her and all that remained of her family.

She wanted to let the tears that were damming her throat flood free. She wanted to hear her sister, who would be both pragmatic and loving, tell her she would be okay, that she loved her. But spiky doubts crept into her thoughts. Might Katie love her just a fraction less? Hadn't she always noticed how different Mia was from her? Wasn't Mia the reason why Mick had left?

'Hello?' Katie repeated.

Mia clamped her teeth over the words she couldn't say and placed the phone lightly back in the receiver. She couldn't tell her.

Mia had needed to come to Maui to find out if she was a reflection of her father. And now she would have to live with what she'd discovered.

11.

KATIE.

Western Australia, May The heat was inescapable and the flies ferocious, yet there was a rugged beauty in the vast, barren landscape of Western Australia. Katie had spent a month riding the backpacker bus south, following the entries in Mia's journal. The endless stretches of flat, scrub-lined road became a kind of comfort as she rested her head against the bus's sun-warmed window and was lulled and rocked into mindless oblivion.

Now she had reached Lancelin, a small coastal town north of Perth where crayfish boats docked at the jetty each afternoon to unload their catch. She lay beside a concrete pool in the shade of a sun umbrella, the journal open in front of her. It was before ten but already the heat was fierce, the wind having not yet arrived.

She glanced up as a plane cut a sharp line through the cloudless blue sky. It left behind a trail of white vapour, which she watched until it gently feathered away. Mia had once told her that jet trails were clouds that had been inhaled by a plane, then expired in a long white whoosh. Katie hadn't corrected her. She was intrigued by the magical places Mia's imagination wandered to and thought if she followed closely enough, she might glimpse those places, too.

Half-sisters, she mused. Could you only be half when your whole lives were inextricably linked?

She pushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, thinking how she minded the term. She and Mia had always been very different but now those differences had been given a label: half-sisters. She wished Mia was here to talk to. She wanted to be back in their flat, curled into opposite corners of the sofa, talking with mugs of tea in their hands. Together they'd have been able to make sense of it, perhaps eventually have laughed about it. But Mia was gone and learning this now only stretched them further apart.

Tracing a finger over a sentence in the journal, Katie tried to feel the indentations of Mia's words. Her entries no longer sparkled with descriptions of places she'd travelled to, the way they once had in California; now they simmered with a quiet fury. Her anger was initially directed at their mother for concealing the truth about Harley. The moral code she'd taught her daughters had been grounded in truth and honesty, so her transgression from these rules cheated Mia of her beliefs.

More concerning, though, were Mia's later entries, which showed a growing fixation with Harley. The page in front of Katie now was a transcription of song lyrics Mia had found on an obscure internet site, and she'd circled words and verses to find a connection to a father she'd never known. The adjoining page was dotted with questions: 'What was he like?' 'Who did he care about?' 'Where did he think of as home?' It seemed to Katie that the unwritten question around which the others orbited, was: Am I like him? Harley had committed suicide at the age of twenty-four: Mia's age. That cold fact must have torn at Mia's thoughts, just as it tore at Katie's. She tried not to pay attention to the voice in her head that whispered of history repeating itself, but she couldn't deny the disturbing symmetry.

There was a sudden rushing of feet over concrete and then she felt cold fingers gripping her waist. She cried out as she was lifted up, the journal slipping through her fingers and landing with its pages splayed on the poolside, like a hastily erected tent.

She heard Ed's laughter, loud and close to her ear, as he held her against his wet body and began jogging away from the pool towards the beach. Sand flicked up as he ran, stinging her dangling legs. His grip was too tight, his wrist bone pressing painfully against her thighs. Her bikini top had become twisted and she could see the dark pink edge of her nipple exposed in the harsh light.

The shore was only feet away and she kicked and swivelled in his grasp, which made Ed laugh harder, delighted by her resistance. He waded into the sea and the smell of salt stole her breath. Water splashed and slapped at her skin. Suddenly she was flipped backwards and the world swivelled. Glaring sunlight seared off the water and she blinked, disorientated. The ends of her hair brushed the sea.

'Please, Ed!' she whispered, choked by fear.

Ahead, a hurdle of white-water rushed towards them, water popping and spraying, salt fizzing in her nostrils. She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the smack of water against her face and the briny taste of the sea to fill her mouth. Then, in a swift movement, Ed flung her upright. He delivered her back to shore, placing her gently on the sand.

She gulped in air with a hand pressed to her chest.

'Katie?' he said, turning to her. 'Are you okay? You knew I was joking, didn't you?'

She nodded without looking at him so he couldn't see the tears in her eyes. She'd never told him she was afraid of the sea.

He placed a wet hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 'Sorry. I couldn't resist. You looked so gorgeous and serene lying by the pool. I wanted to steal you.'

'It's fine,' she said. 'You took me by surprise, that's all.'

Ed had arrived in Australia five days ago, having managed to take a fortnight off work. She had met him at Perth Airport where he hugged her so enthusiastically he'd lifted her off her feet.

'Shall we go for a stroll to dry off?' he asked.

She glanced at him: water dripped down his face and his eyes were bright and hopeful. He would be pleased if she walked with him; they needed occasional moments of lightness in order to sustain them. But she knew Mia's journal was still lying carelessly on the poolside. She imagined grit sinking into the folds of each page, the sun bleaching the colour from the jacket.

'I might go for a shower,' she said with a light smile. Then she walked back to the pool and carefully gathered up the journal, dipping her mouth low to it and blowing the grit from its pages.

Katie wrapped herself in a soft cream towel and then wiped her palm in a circle over the steamed mirror. She peered at her damp face. The bridge of her nose was dotted with sun freckles but there was a gauntness to her cheeks and beneath her eyes that the sun couldn't brighten. Since Ed had arrived she'd taken to applying make-up again, but found the routine had lost some of its reward.

'Darling?' He was stretched out on the bed, a newspaper discarded at his side, one bare ankle crossing the other.

They were staying in a hotel, not the modest backpacker lodge Mia had written about. Katie had taken Ed there on his first night but, exhausted from jet lag, he hadn't appreciated the strumming of a guitar drifting from the adjacent dorm until two in the morning.

'Come over here.'

She crossed the room and perched beside him. There was a pair of foam earplugs on the bedside table. 'Did you hear the other guests?'

'I'm not certain there are other guests,' he said with a raised eyebrow. 'Those are for the sea. The waves are incessant.'

The sea? 'In London you fall asleep to a cacophony of traffic.'

'Ah, the melodic sounds of the city.' He smiled at her. 'Talking of London, you know your friends want me to bring you home with me? Everyone's worried about you.'

'They don't need to be.'

'Don't they?'

'No,' she said, running her fingers through her wet hair. 'I'm fine.' She could imagine them saying how out of character she was behaving but Katie didn't care. She needed to be here. 'I've been meaning to ask: you remember at Mia's funeral someone sent that orchid? Did you show the photo you took to your mother?'

The bed creaked as he sat up. 'Yes. She looked it up. She thinks it's a moon orchid.'

'Moon orchid,' Katie repeated slowly. 'Does she know anything about them?'

'They originated in the tropics,' he said, then looked away.

'What is it? Did she say something else?'

'I don't see this as important,' he said with a sigh, 'but the moon orchid is the national flower of Bali.'

She blinked, surprised. 'Bali?'

'Yes.'

She rubbed a finger over her lower lip. 'Don't you think it's strange that someone would choose that particular flower?'

'Not really. They probably just liked the look of it, didn't know its history.'

'But why send it anonymously? Why write, "Sorry"?'

He opened his palms. 'I don't know. Perhaps they did it through a florist and only part of the message was transcribed.'

'Maybe,' Katie said, although she couldn't help wondering if there was some relevance to it, or what it was they were apologizing for.

'Why don't you lie down?' Ed said, making room for her on the bed.

She lay back, her wet hair dampening the pillow.

Ed propped himself up on an elbow and studied her. 'I can't believe that in three months we'll be married.'

She smiled, but the remark produced an anxiety in Katie that she wouldn't allow herself to dwell on.

He traced the line of her collarbone with a forefinger. 'Mrs Katie Louth,' he said to himself as if trying it out for size. 'Very sexy.'

'I haven't decided if I'll take your name.'

He arched one eyebrow. 'Is that right?'

'I just want to give it some thought. Not everyone takes their husband's name.'

'Don't tell me you want one of those awful double-barrelled surnames? Greene-Louth sounds like an STD.'

She laughed. 'No, not double-barrelled, then!'

He looked at her closely. 'You're the last Greene, aren't you?'

She nodded, feeling a rise of emotion in her throat.

'Then you should keep your name. I don't need you to take mine. Knowing I get to take you to bed every night for the rest of my life is all I'm interested in.' He untucked the corner of the damp towel and unwrapped her as though she was a gift. He placed his mouth on her neck and kissed her slowly. His lips were warm and she wanted him to put his arms round her and stay close, holding her to him.

His mouth travelled downwards, moving over her collarbone, kissing a pathway to her breasts, his tongue reaching her nipples. Katie held herself still as his tongue trailed over her ribcage and the softness of her stomach, skirting her navel and flicking over her hips. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, focusing on the sensation of Ed's touch. Before Mia's death their lovemaking had been frequent and passionate, but now she felt no desire.

His mouth grazed the top of her pubic bone.

'Ed.'

He murmured from beneath the sheet as his lips moved lower.

'I should get dressed,' she said, squirming out of reach. 'We need to leave soon.'

He snapped back the covers and got out of bed. He moved to the desk, pulled out a chair and opened his laptop.

She dressed with her back to him. They were visiting the Slade Plains where Mia and Finn had gone skydiving six months before. Although Katie had no intention of jumping herself, she wanted to see the place where her sister felt brave enough to plummet through the sky with only a parachute as her lifeline.

She was back in the routine of trying to limit herself to reading only one of Mia's entries a day, which gave her trip a structure and a sense of purpose. With each page, her understanding of Mia's travels deepened. The journal had become her companion, unfalteringly honest and faithfully at her side.

Once dressed, Katie turned to Ed, who was still absorbed in his laptop. 'We need to leave now if we want to make the bus.'