53 pages • 1 hour read
Catherine SteadmanA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
“I give it a second. I let the muscles of my face fall as he studies me. I let my pupils contract like the universe imploding and calmly reply, ‘No.’ No, I’m not real. It’s scary. I’ve only done it a few times. Absented myself from my own face. Made myself disappear. Like a phone reverting to factory settings.”
This passage comes while Erin and Mark are on their mini-vacation for their anniversary. Mark asks Erin if she’s real, which Erin interprets as him wondering if their life is real because it seems too good to be true. This passage is ironic for a couple of reasons. First, whether Mark never truly loved Erin or if his job loss led him to a spiral, things were too good to be true at this early point in the story, and they only get worse. Second, Erin makes herself appear unreal here by taking the emotion from her personality. By the end of the book, Erin is real, but many of the circumstances surrounding her are not. Mark turns out to be a different person than she thought, and the plane people hide themselves so completely that they might as well not exist.
“I feel a brief shiver of freedom. I’m not in that washroom with Mark. The whole world is still open and clear for me. It’s not my problem.
The guilt follows immediately. What an awful thing to think. Of course it’s my problem. It’s our problem. We’re getting married in a couple of months. But I can’t make that feeling stick. I don’t feel Mark’s problems like I feel my own. What does that mean? I don’t feel like something devastating has happened. I feel free and light.”
Erin subconsciously pulls away from Mark long before his betrayal ever begins. This passage shows how she thinks more about herself than she does him, which is not an ideal quality in a relationship and might have contributed to the breakdown of their love/Mark’s change of feelings. Mark and Erin push one another away, if in different ways and to different extents. Neither is blameless in what happens between them, which shows even the most innocent among us are never completely absolved of responsibility.
“My mother was young and beautiful and clever. She worked hard, she ran a company, and I loved her so much it hurts to think about her. So I don’t. She died. Her car went off a road and rolled down onto a railway track one night twenty years ago. My dad rang me at boarding school the day after and told me. He came to collect me that evening. I got a week off school. There was a funeral. After that my dad took a job in Saudi Arabia. I saw him on school holidays when I went out there. At sixteen I stopped going, choosing to spend the holidays at friends’ houses instead. He remarried. They have two kids now. Chloe’s sixteen and Paul is ten. Dad can’t make the wedding. And to be honest, I’m glad. He doesn’t make it to much these days. I went over for a visit a couple of years ago. Slept in a bare spare room. I know he sees my mother when he looks at me, because that’s all I see when I look at him. Anyway, that’s it. That’s all I’ll say on it.”
This passage shows Erin’s history of distancing herself from people. It also shows how her reaction to a loved one’s death changes as she grows. She can’t think about her mother because it hurts. By contrast, at the end of the book, she has to think about Mark even though doing so is painful. She understands that ignoring something doesn’t make the pain go away.
“Or maybe we just need to fuck. That always seems to reset us. It’s been four days now since we slept together, which for us is long. We’re usually a, at least, once-a-day couple. I know, I know. Don’t get me wrong; I know that’s not a usual amount. I know that after the first year has passed, that is ridiculously sick-making. I know because before I met Mark sex was more of a once-a-month ticketed-event type of thing. Overhyped and ultimately disappointing. Trust me, I’ve been in my fair share of shitty relationships. But we—Mark and I—have never been like that. I want him. I want him all the time. His smell, his face, the back of his neck, his hands on me. Between my legs.”
Erin and Mark’s relationship relies heavily on physical satisfaction. This suggests their relationship isn’t standard, which makes its deterioration more believable. Sex also comes to symbolize the relationship’s degradation. As tension mounts, Erin and Mark are intimate less often, and Erin thinks about sex less frequently.
“It’s heaven inside the lounge. It’s nice to be on this side of the door, not that I even knew there was a door up until five minutes ago. That’s strange, isn’t it? When you think you know what a good thing is and then you suddenly realize that there is a whole other level beyond what you knew even existed? Scary, in a way. How quickly what is good can become not good enough through comparison. Maybe best never to see it. Maybe best not to know that everyone else in the airport is being shepherded through retail units designed to strip them of the very little that they have, while you keep yours safe.”
Erin and Mark fly first class to Bora Bora. Mark has flown first class for work before, but this is Erin’s first time. Her thoughts here show how we define the world by our perceptions of it. If we don’t know something exists, we can’t integrate it into our view, but once we learn new information, all of our old information realigns, and we assign new labels to what we previously knew. Erin does this as she increases her wealth, gets further into covering up the bag, and learns Mark hasn’t been truthful with her.
“I’m not scared of drowning or water or anything like that. I’m scared of that blind panic. The blind panic that traps rabbits in snares, pulls the noose tighter, and drowns them in their own blood. Silly things happen in blind panics. Things die.”
When Erin is relaxed, she finds scuba diving peaceful and fun. When panic sets in, the experience becomes stressful. Her level of safety doesn’t change, only her ability to cope with her situation. This passage also foreshadows how the Sharpes die—panicking while scuba diving.
“But I don’t. I’m scared. I don’t know why. It seems wrong to open the bag.
But why? It’s just like finding a wallet, isn’t it? It’s all right to open the wallet and look at the stuff, find out who it belongs to. It’s only not all right if you take the stuff inside it. I don’t want to take the stuff inside. I just want to know. And that’s absolutely fine. It might help us return it. If we know whose it is.”
This is an example of Erin’s rationalization regarding borderline criminal behavior. She considers why she shouldn’t do something and then offers herself reasons why taking action is acceptable. She talks herself into the positive outcomes of her actions, which come true. Negative effects also occur, forcing her to rationalize and decide yet again. This cycle of choices drives the story forward.
“I have the feeling of being too near to something I don’t want to be near to. To something dangerous.
I can’t quite see what it is yet but I feel it; it feels close. I feel the trapdoors in my mind creaking under the strain of what lies underneath. But then, of course, it could just be free money and everyone loves free money. Someone might have made a mistake, and if it doesn’t hurt anyone…then we could keep it. Free money for us. And it’s not like we don’t need it.”
Erin has her first sense of foreboding from the bag. She ignores the bad feelings and chooses to believe keeping the money will end well. This passage also shows that Erin wants to be more than she is. Erin knows that this amount of money could put her and Mark at a new level of society, and in the wake of first class and the extravagant Bora Bora hotel, she wants to be at that level.
“I’m suddenly reminded of the people we saw in the first-class lounge at Heathrow. The millionaires who didn’t look like millionaires. Why weren’t they flying in their own planes? Or chartering? A quick search reveals that chartering a private jet from London to LAX costs around four thousand pounds for one person on an empty leg flight and thirty thousand for the whole plane. A standard first-class ticket, without using any points, is about nine thousand pounds round trip. If you’re rich enough to fly first-class, why not just hire a jet? Hell, why not buy one?
Maybe they’re not savvy enough. Maybe they’re not rich enough. Maybe the people in that lounge weren’t even paying for their own tickets.
Either way, it all feels very different now. First class doesn’t seem quite so impressive somehow. It all feels a bit…well, silly in comparison.
These ghost people live in a world that, up until now, I had no idea existed. A world I wouldn’t even begin to know how to access.”
These lines from while Erin researches the downed plane add to the idea that we can only understand the world based on what we know. Prior to flying first class, Erin knew first class existed and theoretically understood it was nicer than economy or business class. Here, she encounters the notion of an entire segment of life she never even conceptualized. The people from the plane practically don’t exist, hidden behind the amount of smoke screens they are. The idea is so foreign that, even though Erin now knows this world exists, she struggles to implement it into her framework of the world.
“I notice my sudden jump in logic. From making a mistake to actively committing a crime. Just like that. I wonder if that’s how it starts for a lot of criminals; I wonder if that’s how it started with Eddie. A mistake, a cover-up, and then a slow inevitable chain of events. Nothing like this has ever crossed my mind before, the impulse to get rid of the evidence. I have no idea how one would even go about getting rid of footage. It’s never occurred to me, of course, because I’m just an ordinary woman on her honeymoon, and aside from going over eighty on the motorway sometimes, I don’t even consider breaking the rules. Maybe in my mind sometimes, but never in reality.”
Criminals are often thought of as somehow separate from society—as if they were born to be criminals. Here, Erin’s thought process shows the quick and simple thought progression that leads to an average person becoming a criminal. It’s nothing extravagant or dangerous. It’s a simple matter of logic: “I made a mistake. I need to hide it.” It’s a mindset we learn as children that has the potential to become destructive if not put in check.
“I’m beginning to realize that being rich doesn’t really mean having money to buy nice things; it means having money to avoid the rules. The rules are there for the other people, the people without the money, the ones who drive you about in your cars, fly your planes, cook your food. Rules can be bypassed with money or even just the mystique surrounding money. Flights can vanish, people can find people, people can live or die without the hassle of police or doctors or paperwork.
If, and only if, you have the money to make things run smoothly for yourself. And with our bag we can make things run smoothly.”
Erin contemplates how she and Mark will deal with the bag’s contents. Her view of the world shifts yet again. Conceptually, she’s understood banks that don’t ask questions and the selling of stolen goods, but now, she must think of ways to be involved with these things. She no longer considers illegal activity as such a leap in logic; small crimes are just a means to an end.
“I stand and study myself one last time in the mirror. I’ve done a good job with the hair and makeup. I look right. Now that I think of it, I look like the type of person I had expected to see in the first-class lounge that morning two weeks ago. The kind of person that should have been in that lounge. If the world was a different place. If things always looked the way you imagined. But I guess, like in filmmaking, some things look more real when they’re not.”
Here, Erin equates her new life to filming. With camera angles and editing, footage can show whatever picture the filmmaker wants to show. It doesn’t matter what happened; the truth becomes what is captured on film. The same logic applies to Erin here. With the right outfit and carefully applied makeup, she shows the world what she wants it to see, not the reality. She edits the film of who she is.
“We human beings are amazing in our capacity for adaptation, aren’t we? Like plants, we grow to fit our pots. But more than that, sometimes, we can choose our own pots; some of us get that opportunity. I guess it really depends on how far you’re willing to go, doesn’t it? I’ve never properly understood that before. I think of Alexa, her mother, their decision, their goodbye. Sometimes there’s a stark beauty to the choices we make.”
This passage speaks to the power of choice. Laws are put in place to protect everyone, but the only thing stopping someone from breaking a law is choosing not to. Similarly, a person’s resources factor into what choices they can make. With the money from the bag, Erin and Mark could make bigger decisions with a greater power to influence their lives, or, they could choose not to.
“Then it hits me. We won’t find anything here. Holli was only eighteen when she lived in this room. These are the relics of who she was. She’s twenty-three now. Growing up changes you. Five years in prison changes you. Who knows what happened to her in that time?
I mean, look at me, my whole life has changed in nine days. I’ve become a liar and a thief. God knows where or who I’ll be in five years. Hopefully not in prison.”
These lines come shortly after Holli’s disappearance. Erin studies Holli’s childhood room in hopes of finding a clue to her whereabouts and realizes there’s nothing to be found there because Holli has changed. Like Holli, Erin still lives in the same house with the same furnishings and décor. Also like Holli, circumstances led Erin to change. Holli’s room from five years ago doesn’t match who Holli is post-jail, and Erin’s house doesn’t match the millionaire and criminal she is now.
“Amal’s image flashes into my mind. The prison guard that day. Middle Eastern Amal. Amal, meaning ‘hope’ in Arabic. Amal, with the kind eyes.
I instantly feel shame.
I push the thought away. I’m not that sort of person. I refuse to be that sort of person. Amal is just an average Londoner trying to do his job; he just happens to have an Arabic name.”
This shows how easily society’s biases can influence others. Holli disappeared with a Muslim terrorist group, and Erin immediately wonders if the Arabic guard at Holloway prison is involved. Erin has no reason to think this, and she doesn’t even know the man. She automatically associates Amal with crime because he has an Arabic name, and his name matches with the circumstances of Holli’s disappearance.
“It’s funny how little we all know about fertility, pregnancy. It’s the single most important subject for the whole of humanity and yet I feel like I’m trying to read Urdu.”
Here, Erin likens pregnancy to understanding a foreign language. This shows how, historically, women’s health and pregnancy have been relegated to hushed circles. Menstruation and reproduction are often only whispered about, a trend that does Erin a disservice here. Something so integral to the human race should be common knowledge and easily understandable, but it isn’t because society has complicated it.
“Less than a month ago I was just an average person, a civilian, someone with no angle. I belonged on the good side of the table, and on the other side were the bad people. Whether they were innately bad or just bad because of the choices they made was a subject of theoretical debate. But either way, they were different from me, different to the core. I was a normal person. Now it’s Lottie on the good side of the table.
But was I ever a normal person? Because I really haven’t changed that much inside, have I? I think the same way. I act the same way. I want what I want. I have only acted in line with the way I have always lived my life. Was that all wrong? Am I all wrong?”
This passage examines how much circumstances really change (or don’t change) a person. Erin realizes she’s always wanted to be more than she is and that the bag just gave her the opportunity to pursue that desire. It didn’t change her ambitions; it only brought them into clarity. This ties into the greater debate of whether it is possibly for people to be intrinsically evil. Erin’s realization shows how two people can have the same goal but use different means to achieve it. She wishes to be more than she is to build a better life for her family. The plane people wish to be more than they are but use means involving stolen diamonds and encrypted files.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I were her. I could speculate, but reality never matches speculation, does it? At least not in the big things.”
After Erin plays Eddie’s video for Lottie, Erin questions whether Lottie will let Eddie back into her life, culminating with the idea she can’t predict Lottie’s response. This passage foreshadows how Erin’s speculations about her own future (a comfortable life with Mark) fall so far from reality.
“Why didn’t Mark tell me about this? Why did he turn the phone on in the first place? And where did he turn it on? Of course, he’s far more cautious than I am. He’d have gone to a crowded area too. He’s a clever guy. But why? Why look? And then I realize. He too was worried about them coming for us. Of course he was worried. After the Sharpes’ accident, he felt responsible, in a way, for what happened to them. He knew that it was deliberate and it scared him. So he pretended, for me. Mark’s very convincing when he wants to be. So he checked the phone. He checked to see if they were still looking for us. And they were and he kept it to himself. To protect me. To keep me from being terrified. The guilt makes my chest ache. I can’t believe Mark’s been going through all of this alone. And with me running around so recklessly.”
Here, Erin learns that Mark also keeps secrets: He has turned on the phone from the bag and been in contact with the person on the other end. Erin’s rationale shows the strength of her blind faith in Mark. Despite no evidence to prove he did this to help her, Erin assumes he turned on the phone and contacted the people to protect her. Mark’s manipulation from the last several chapters leads Erin to blame herself for adding stress to the situation. This passage shows the power of emotional abuse and brainwashing.
“I think of the Sharpes: of their fate. Those last desperate gasping breaths of seawater, and then—nothing. But the difference between the Sharpes and me is that the Sharpes weren’t expecting what happened to them, they weren’t prepared, they panicked. They didn’t stand a chance. But I do.”
Erin thinks this while she prepares to exchange the flash drive. Far from the panicky woman at the beginning of her character arc, Erin now remains calm in a frightening situation. She thinks of the Sharpes dying in a scuba diving accident and doesn’t fall into a spiral of fear. Keeping Mark safe motivates Erin here, which is ironic because Mark no longer cares about her safety.
“It’s still dark outside. My breath fogs in the air. Five A.M. is already the sort of hour that prompts you to question your life choices. This morning, that feeling is particularly apt. I really have made bad choices in my life, but at least now that I know that, I’m in a position to rectify them.”
Erin rushes to save Mark from the plane people. Here, she makes one of her most important observations of the book: Everything that’s happened to her has been a choice. She didn’t have to keep the bag, sell the diamonds, or turn the phone on again, but she did. She chose to do all those things, and those choices brought her to this moment of danger. Most importantly, she takes responsibility for her decisions and works to fix their outcome.
“I miss him. It’s funny how the brain works, isn’t it? I miss him so much I ache.
It hurts and I don’t really understand it. I don’t understand what happened. I suppose you can never really know a person, can you?
When did it change? Did it change the day he lost his job? Or was it always like this?
It’s impossible to know if we were a good thing that we broke somehow or a bad thing that eventually became exposed. But either way, if I could just go back now to the way we were, I would. I would, without a moment’s hesitation. If I could just lie in his arms one last time, I could live with an illusion the rest of my life. If I could, I would.”
Erin reflects on her relationship with Mark after she’s cleaned up the evidence of her crimes and reported him missing. Despite how badly Mark betrayed her, Erin clings to the good times. Whether those times are real or an illusion doesn’t matter; they left a mark on her heart, and she cannot escape them.
“In my heart I believe it was real. He was scared of failing. He was flawed. I know. I’m flawed too. I wish I could have saved him. I wish I could have saved us. He lost his job. That’s all that happened, really. But I know what that means to some men. People died after the financial crash. Some jumped and some took pills or alcohol. Mark survived. He survived eight years longer than some of his friends. He knew he couldn’t go back to what he did before and he didn’t want to start over. He didn’t want to be less than he had been. He was terrified, I see that now, of going backward, going back home to East Riding, back to the bottom, back to where he started. And fear is corrosive.”
This passage shows how rationalizing is an inherent human trait. Even after everything that’s happened, Erin wants to believe Mark let fear drive him beyond the point of return. If Erin’s speculation is accurate, Mark let fear corrode his thoughts until the money in the bag seemed like the only way for him to move forward. Like Erin, he wanted to be more than he was, and he couldn’t handle the idea of being less. He would leave Erin behind to fulfill his dreams, and he likely would have continued to amass wealth, never being satisfied. His death was inevitable.
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m starting to believe my own lies. And, yeah, you’re right. But I’d rather believe my lies than the truth in Mark’s eyes in that clearing.”
Some time has passed since Mark’s death; Erin thinks of Mark as having disappeared, rather than acknowledging what happened. She recognizes the danger in living a lie but chooses to do so because the truth is too painful. Again, she makes a choice and takes responsibility for its effects.
“She’s done something terrible this time. Something truly, truly terrible.
Her words come back to me. That day in prison when I asked her what she planned to do next. ‘You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you? But expect…great things, Erin. Great things.’
She told me. She told me she would do this, didn’t she? I knew. In a way I always knew—not something like this, obviously—but I knew.
But what could I have done? What can you do? You can’t save everyone. Sometimes you just have to save yourself.”
In the last lines of the novel, Erin watches Holli robbing stores on a breaking news report. She reflects on Holli’s interview and realizes she dismissed the signs that Holli would go back to crime, much like she dismissed the hints of Mark’s dishonesty. Rather than take action to save Holli (like she did with Mark), Erin lets the situation play out. Holli has also made her choices, and she needs to deal with the consequences.