Before heading back to the hotel, we make a stop at the local police station. Even though I've done nothing wrong, I can't shake my nerves. I half blame it on the time I was threatened with an ASBO at sixteen for telling a police officer he looked like a toilet brush with shit stuck in the bristles. He was really skinny with an abnormally big head, his hair was dead straight and he'd had a bad dye job, I'd had a few too many supermarket branded ciders, I was trying to show off in front of a girl, you know how it is.

It ended up just being a warning, but it left me scarred. The fact I'm here to hand in a dead girl's phone probably has something to do with the nerves too. Carmen jumps out of the car, and I follow.

"You okay?" she questions as we walk into the building. "You seem a bit... jittery."

"What? Me? Nah, I'm doing fab." Fab? When have I ever used the word fab? "I almost got an ASBO once, y'know," I say in an attempt to keep my unease underwraps, but immediately regret it.

Carmen looks even more confused, so I continue digging the hole as we walk towards a desk at the back of the station's lobby.

"You're probably too posh to know what it is. It's an anti-social behaviour something or other. Nothing really, I mean, underage drinking and disturbing the peace, and 'you can't speak to a police officer like that', and y'know how it is, eh? I mean, you don't--definitely don't. You don't hang around parks with cheap cider, but--"

"I like you when you're nervous. You're weird--really, really weird, but there's a charm to it." Before I can jump to my defence, we stop behind a woman who's speaking to the officer at the desk, and Carmen continues. "Is something up with you and Annabel? You looked like you were arguing with her in the car earlier. I mean, technically you looked like you were arguing with yourself, but you know what I mean."

I wave my hand in the air. "Yeah, it's fine, she was just being annoying."

Carmen doesn't look fully convinced, but she doesn't press any further. As we wait for the officer behind the desk to become free, I hop from one foot to the other, and take in my surroundings. It's a pretty drab lobby, a lot of grey. There's a row of chairs drilled down to the tiled floor where some unsavoury looking characters are sitting, and I have to stop myself from laughing at the idea that someone felt the need to do that as if it would cross anyone's mind to try and nick the plastic chairs and make a run for it.

"I don't think I've ever seen you stand still," Carmen comments, capturing my attention. She nods at my dancing feet.

I apologise, then stop. Within seconds, I'm doing it again. The woman in front of us mutters something, then turns around with a face like thunder. She shoves past us, still muttering as she storms out the building. I guess that's our cue.

"Hi," I say with a smile, to which the bald man behind the desk responds to with a tired expression. Tough crowd. "So I found this phone." I dig into my jacket pocket and place it on the desk. "Went for a jog last night--think I might have stood on it actually. Apologies, my bad. Anyway, yeah, got back to the hotel we're staying at, gave the thing a charge--figured we'd be able to call a number on it to give it back, right? Couldn't unlock the bastard though, so thought it made sense to just hand it in here."

The officer looks even more bored than he did a minute ago. He mumbles what sounds like a thank you, takes Lucy's phone, and looks down. Carmen and I wait for a minute or so until the guy looks back up questioningly.

"Do you need anything else?" Carmen asks.

"A pay rise would be nice," the guy murmurs, then laughs as if he made the best gag ever. He rolls his eyes when Carmen and I respond with blank stares. "No. Bye."

Right, okay. I was either way too anxious about this handover, or this guy is shocking at his job. Do they not need some kind of formal statement? Or to take down our details? Then again, if you remove the context of this whole scenario, we're a pair of teenagers handing in a cracked phone. Nothing odd. Screw it, I'm not complaining. I give the officer a wave, turn on my heel, and head straight back out the building with Carmen in tow.

Annabel is sitting in the spare seat beside me when I get back into the car. She starts talking before I've even clicked my seatbelt into place, but I ignore her. She gives up after five minutes or so, and disappears. I know I'm just avoiding the inevitable. I can't ignore her forever--I literally can't, she's stuck to me like a fungus--but as pathetic as it is, what she said really bloody hurt me.

As we near the hotel, I contemplate whether or not I should tell anyone about the dream I had last night. I decide not to, and while every bone in my body is fighting against admitting this, I know part of me says nothing because I'm scared Annabel might be right.

Tom is fast asleep on a sofa in the hotel lobby when we wander in, while Jamie is fixated on typing something into his laptop. Nice to see neither of them are bothering to watch our luggage. Annabel is sitting on a chair beside Jamie while Lucy sits opposite her chattering on about something, but Annie doesn't look like she's taking in a single word.

"Plot twist," I say, approaching Jamie. "Killer boyfriend may not, in fact, be killer boyfriend at all."

"What?" Jamie asks, pulling himself away from his laptop. I glance at the screen, and it looks like he's doing uni work. Ew. "Oh, Lucy. Hey, I looked up your family on the internet."

What a great start to a conversation. This is going to be a fun one.

Jamie minimises the document he's working on, clicks onto the internet, and shoves his laptop screen in my face. Not literally, thankfully. Annabel is quick to manifest herself beside me to join the party. On the screen is an article about a farming community pulling together to raise money for some family's farm whose crop got burned down, so had nothing to trade for half a year, and it's one of the blandest articles I've ever read.

The family in question aren't mine. The only mention of my family is a single sentence listing names of those who contributed to the cause, where some of the names the Gruffudds mentioned pop up.

"That's it," Jamie says after a few minutes. "That's literally it. The only thing remotely related to your family on the entirety of the web. How bizarre is that?"

"How do you know that's them? It could just be a coincidence with the names," Carmen replies before I say anything.

"I don't. I asked Ava about the Brennans, what she knew etcetera, and she said they were a farming family, so I thought it made sense. If they're not the same people, that merely proves my point even further. It's so intriguing."

Jamie keeps rambling on, but I stop listening. I'm a bit pissed off. Is this some fun little project to him? Something to flex his brain to feed his ego? I step aside, and realise everyone is crowded around the laptop, and it kind of makes me pissed off at them too. Then I realise I've asked Ava literally nothing about my family when I should be the one steering the way in finding out everything about them, not Jamie, and my anger takes a harsh u-turn and stabs me right in the gut.

"Felix?"

I blink to see my sister's face in front of mine, her head tilted.

"I'm fine," I snap before she can ask me the question.

I shove past her and rejoin the others.

"So, the plan for Belfast," I say, resting my elbow on Jamie's shoulder, but he roughly shoves it off within seconds. "How about finding a nice little traditional Irish pub once we touch down, and get absolutely shitfaced? Who's with me?"

Turns out the answer to that is no one. On the bright side, people are too busy being done with my bullshit to notice my excruciating inner turmoil. I meant it as a joke anyway. Well, half joke. Christ, I'm a mess.

We spend the next few hours waiting without purpose for our ferry off the island. Ava has headed off with Lucy for a bit to see if they can figure anything out about what happened to her, and everyone else is working on uni stuff. In theory, that's what I'm doing, but I've replayed the same two minutes of a lecture clip four times now. I can't focus for shit. I might as well just write the whole degree thing off, and start again next year.

When it's time to head for the port, I can't jump up fast enough. We've got cabins booked, and all I want to do is get on the boat, go to sleep, and leave this island. Lucy's face is marked with a frown when she and Ava return, so I don't need to ask anything to know they had no luck. There's barely a queue for the ferry this time round, nor am I hungover, so boarding is a much smoother process. We all go straight to our cabins and hop into our beds, the boat departs dead on eleven forty-five, and then all of a sudden I'm wide awake.

It's around one in the morning when I give up on sleep. I'm sharing a room with Tom, who would probably sleep through this boat sinking, so don't bother much with trying to be quiet. This boat is either the same one we caught to this island, or an exact replica because everything looks the same.

I find myself in the room that's eerily similar to Sheffield's community centre, and am surprised to see that the bar is open. I order myself a whisky and coke, which earns me a scowl from Annabel, who still won't leave me alone. I once went a whole week without speaking to her out of pure stubbornness, but I was an immature thirteen-year-old then, so I'm not sure what my excuse is now.