'I'll pass,' he said without looking up.

'You said you'd come with me.'

'I just don't feel inclined to traipse out to the desert to watch a bunch of adrenalin junkies throw themselves from a plane.' He pushed his chair back. 'I'd much rather spend the afternoon drinking wine at a nice restaurant with my fiancee.'

'I have to do this. It's in the journal.'

'Don't you hear how ridiculous that sounds? It's a fucking journal! Not a rule book.'

'I know it's not a rule book. I want to go there,' she said, her tone rising to the challenge of his. 'Don't belittle what I'm doing, Ed. It's important to me.' She grabbed her bag from the bedside table and, as she did, she found her fingers closing round his earplugs. She slipped them into her pocket. He can damn well listen to the sea!

As she reached the door, he said, 'I just don't see why anyone would pay to fling themselves from a plane. It's unnatural and goes against every human instinct.'

'That's what I want to understand.'

Katie had watched the safety video, signed the disclaimer and been fitted into a blue jumpsuit that was faded and fraying at the knees. She now sat at the back of a six-seater plane with a complicated harness fastened around her middle. Anger or adrenalin had propelled her this far, but now she regretted it. Her entire body trembled and her breathing felt too shallow. She was terrified simply sitting in this plane: jumping from it was unthinkable.

The pilot shouted something and then an instructor moved over to the doorway, unhooked a latch and yanked the door open.

Katie gasped. The noise was incredible, as thunderous as if they'd dived into a breaking wave. The rush of cool air set every nerve ending on edge. She fought to tie her hair back, which was whipping across her face.

In front of her a thin man with acne scars stood while his instructor attached himself to the man's harness, checking and rechecking buckles and straps. The pair moved towards the open door, shuffling like prisoners in their jumpsuits. She glanced away for a second, and when she looked back they'd vanished.

She felt a firm tap on her shoulder. 'Your turn,' shouted her jumpmaster, a young man with tight blond curls and crooked front teeth.

'I'm not jumping.'

He began manoeuvring her, strapping himself to the back of her, pulling hard on each buckle to check it was completely secure.

He'd not heard her above the noise. 'I'm not jumping!' she shouted.

'You don't like dumplings?' he shouted back with a grin, then pulled her goggles down over her eyes. He was teasing her, of course. But then he started moving towards the plane door.

'No!' she said, spreading her arms. 'I'm! Not! Jumping!'

'Your choice. But I want you to see the view before deciding.'

She could feel her pulse racing. She took a deep breath and told herself she could do this. She nodded to the jumpmaster. 'I'll look.'

'We're going to sit,' he said and she obeyed, sitting between his legs, and then together they shimmied along the plane floor towards the doorway. The wind became fiercer, blowing away words, thoughts, breath.

'Put your arm on the handle,' he shouted. 'It's safer.'

She reached for the handle and braced herself. The noise! Her heart drilled at her chest. Below lay a grid of scorched fields, the sea shimmering in the distance.

'See that step on the wheel strut? I'm going to put my right foot on it, and then I want you to do the same.'

She shook her head. 'I can't.'

Very close to her ear, as if his voice was coming from inside her, he said, 'Yes, you can.'

Could she? This wasn't her, jumping from planes. But there was a thrill in stepping so far outside of herself. What would Ed think if he saw me now? She felt a heady sense of defiance and, very slowly, she stretched her foot to reach the wing strut. The trouser leg of her jumpsuit flapped furiously in the wind and goose bumps spread across her body.

'You want to do this?' he shouted.

'I don't know! I don't know!'

'Cross your arms over your chest.'

She did as he said, feeling as if she were making a prayer of her body. Then she felt him leaning forward to grab an upper handle. Her hairband was snatched by the wind and her hair whipped in front of her goggles.

'No! No!' Panic was thick and acidic in her stomach. Every muscle in her body was clenched tight, arching away from the open exit.

Then she was aware of him leaning further forward so her whole body was suspended beneath him.

He let go.

Her mouth opened with the utter shock of the freefall, and the insides of her lips turned as dry as the earth below. She hurtled through cold air currents and wisps of clouds. Blood pounded in her ears.

A long, soundless scream burnt in her throat. She was petrified of the parachute failing, the lines getting tangled, an injury on landing but mostly, Katie screamed because as she plummeted through the sky, she could imagine with horrifying clarity her sister's terror the moment her feet left that cliff top.

12.

MIA.

Western Australia, November Last Year The soles of Mia's feet peeled away from the edge and she fell. Her ears were awash with the roar of the wind, the flap of her clothes, the pounding of her heart. Cold air rushed into her mouth, which had opened into a perfect 'O'. The sharp pump of adrenalin was so fierce that it seemed as if only getting this close to death had made life start to pulse deep in her veins.

There was a sudden, rough yank and she felt as if she were being hauled upwards. She heard the canopy of her yellow parachute fill with air as it opened like a buttercup blooming.

She took a short, hard gasp of air.

'Okay?' shouted her jumpmaster, who was harnessed to her back.

Her cheekbones hurt from the press of the goggles, and the feeling of weightlessness had vanished as the nylon straps of her harness dug into her upper thighs and waist. 'Yes,' she answered finally. 'I'm okay.' And then she started to laugh. The sound bubbled from her mouth and was grasped by the wind. Her smile stretched so wide that wind slipped beneath her goggles, making her eyes water. Her whole body shook with delight as they glided towards the ground.

Below, a crimson chute carried Finn. He had jumped first, snapping on his goggles, saluting, and then setting his feet squarely on the wing strut, ready. She had seen him leap from the plane with a grin and, after that, there was no hesitation: if Finn jumped, she would follow.

She made a quick prayer that he would land safely, and watched as his chute collapsed in a soft sweep of red, like a lung exhaling. She imagined him stepping free of his harness and shading the sun from his eyes as he searched the sky for her.

As they neared the ground, the jumpmaster reminded her of the landing instructions. She drew her knees towards her chest while he steered them into the final descent. The ground came up faster than she was expecting and they landed hard, a cloud of dust rising to greet them. The moment she was released from the harness, she raced over to Finn, pulling off her goggles.

His face was flushed and sweat dampened his hairline. He was grinning. 'How was it?'

'Incredible! I thought my stomach would drop away like on fairground rides but it felt like I was flying, not falling.' She threw her arms around him, feeling the heat of his body through the coarse jumpsuit. 'Thank you!' Skydiving had been a surprise that Finn had organized, only revealing it on the sweltering bus ride to the dive centre.

'You're welcome.'

'It was exactly what I needed.' And Finn knew that. A month ago he'd found her leaning against a payphone in Maui with her head in her hands. He had hooked his arm around her waist and led her back to the hostel, where he made her sweet tea and listened as she told him about Harley.

Travelling through Western Australia she'd felt like no more than a shadow at Finn's side, or a silent presence lying awake in their tent at night. He'd spent hours helping her trawl Internet sites searching for snippets of information about her father or giving her the space she needed to think as if he knew what she needed before she knew herself. 'I've been crap to travel with, haven't I?'

'If you hadn't jumped, I'd have pushed you.'

She began to laugh, but suddenly there were tears running down her cheeks. 'Oh, God,' she said, turning away embarrassed.

'Mia?'

She wiped the back of her hand across her face, saying, 'I'm fine.' But the adrenalin rush had released something and the tears wouldn't stop.

'You know I'd never have pushed you. I'd have cut your lines instead no witnesses that way.'

She was half laughing, half crying now. 'Sorry. Ignore me. My head's a mess.'

'You've had a lot going on.'

She shrugged.

'Come on, talk to me.'

She looked towards the sky, blinking to stem the tears. Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. 'It's so fucked up. Everything about it is fucked up.'

'Are we talking about Harley?'

She nodded, then pulled the sleeves of the jumpsuit over her hands. 'The whole reason I went to Maui was to find out what Mick's like. Understand who he is.' She paused. 'Maybe even see if I'm like him.'

'But instead you found out that he's not your dad. Harley is.'

She nodded again. 'Mum lied to us our whole lives. She didn't even tell us the truth when she knew she was dying. And I just keep thinking, Why?' She sniffed, dried her eyes with her sleeve. 'Maybe she didn't want us to know she'd had an affair, or that Katie and I are half-sisters. Or maybe,' she said, slower now, 'it was because she didn't want me to know that Harley was my dad.'

He waited.

'When Mick was describing him, I remember thinking, It's like he's describing me. It was surreal. There were so many similarities between us.'

Finn was listening intently, his head tilted towards her.

'But he hanged himself.' She swallowed. 'My dad hanged himself when he was my age.'

Another light aircraft took off in a cloud of red dust.

'Mia?'

Her voice was small, the anger dissipated. 'I'm so scared I'm like him.'

Finn stepped closer, forcing her to meet his eye. 'I'm going to tell you this once, so I want you to remember it.'

She held his gaze.

'You are not Harley. Or your mum. Or Katie. You, Mia Greene, are you.'

'But I'm not sure I know who that is.'

He slung his arm around her shoulder, smiling. 'I do.'

They returned to the hostel only to shower and change, and then left for the tavern. Finn struck out across the sand dunes, Mia following. 'It's a steak night for me,' he said, picturing a thick slab of meat with a blue-cheese sauce.

'I'm going cheeseburger with extra bacon.'

'Don't try and intimidate me.'

As the dunes ascended, Mia ran ahead, calling, 'Last one to the top buys the drinks!'

He bolted after her, sending thick sweeps of sand cascading behind him. He managed to hook his hand into the back pocket of her shorts and yank her back. She laughed, swatting at his arm, and finally broke free, taking the last few strides to the top.

As Finn drew level with her, he saw that the beach below was awash with people. Music blared from speakers planted on the back of a pickup truck, in front of which a crowd danced with their hands thrown in the air. A roaring beach fire glowed orange and people sat cross-legged in the sand playing bongos and didgeridoos. The air smelt of woodsmoke and marijuana.

'Want to take a look?' he asked.

They bounded down the dunes together, his trainers filling with sand. At the bottom they threaded through a throng of people standing around a smoking barbeque. An old Bedford van was parked on the tideline, its full beam illuminating a handful of men bodysurfing the white-water rumbling into shore. They wandered deeper into the crowd, Mia rocking her hips to the rhythm of the music.

They paused by a flare-lit circle where a girl, painted silver, was spinning a hoop around her waist. She gracefully raised one arm and the hoop seemed to coil up, reaching the tips of her fingers. With a flick of her wrist she sent the hoop to the ground and skipped through it, then continued to twirl it round her waist like an orbit.

'She's incredible,' Mia said.

'This is porn for hippies,' Finn replied.

She laughed and linked her arm through his. Instantly, the heat from her grip surged through his body and his heart rate increased. 'Mia,' he said, leading her away from the densest section of crowd. 'I need to talk to you about something.' From the outset of this trip he'd wanted to tell her how he felt, but the right opportunity hadn't arisen. Since their talk this afternoon she'd seemed buoyant, light hearted again, and he sensed it was time.

'What is it?' she said, nudging him.

He took a deep breath. 'Do you remember when we were 16, we went to that Thaw gig at the Guildhall? You crowd surfed.'

Her eyes brightened. 'That was an amazing night! Whatever happened to that band?'

'When you came back through the crowd, you kissed me.'

'Did I?'