Page 186: "She'd found the map in one of the boxes she'd exhumed from the Beetle. It was dated but still perfectly adequate for her purpose. Evie had no map pins, but she did have earrings, so she put a small silver star stud through the paper at Esperance. The next earring, a crescent moon, she pushed into the township of Bellingen, in the New South Wales hinterland, for no other reason that it was a profoundly pretty part of the country..."

Page 220: "He watched the road but was aware of Evie in the passenger seat, fidgeting with the moonstone ring she wore on the middle finger of her left hand."

Page 241: "Evie lifted the lid and could not help but smile. The box was filled to about a third of the way up the sides with what appeared to be white sand, although the sand had a particular sparkle to them that made Evie think there might be some glitter involved, too. Wedged into the sand at an angle was a small glass vial, stoppered with a cork. Inside this little vessel was a slip of paper: a message in a bottle."

Page 355: "An old suitcase lay open on the table. It was packed, end to end, with sheet music. Squeezed in among them was a black leather manuscript book with a bright red ribbon for a placeholder. It sat there, unregarded."

Page 7: "Yet, as her finger met the golden beetle, something happened: a spark seemed to fly out and her future opened. She went hot and cold. She would find the beetle. It was that simple. She would go to wherever New Caledonia was and bring it home."

Page 57: "Enid was kneeling on the floor and had a suitcase wide open. Margery's skin went cold. Enid was going through her things. "What are you doing?" "Nothing. It's fine." Clearly this was a lie. It wasn't fine. Though Margery could see now that she'd been wrong. It wasn't her suitcase: it was the red valise Enid had been at such pains to hide. Not only that, but she'd been crying."

Page 197: "She was aware that Enid had said something about trying to tune in to the General Overseas Service on her radio - she wanted to catch the king's Christmas broadcast. Then something else happened. One minute, Enid was saying "I've got it! I've got a signal!" The next moment she yelped, as if the radio had just bitten her. "

Page 333: "Inside the envelope, a black-and-white photograph. It showed two women. An entomologist and her assistant... Freya fetched the magnifying glass. The young woman had a beetle in her hand. Hard to say from a black-and-white photograph, but it was clearly brightly colored. Maybe even gold. Couldn't be a scarab or a carabid. It wasn't round enough. Surely not a soft-winged flower beetle. No one had ever found one of those. No wonder the woman looked happy."

Page 34: "Nora stared at it. She could see it now. The small typeface embossed on the cover. The Book of Regrets. "Every regret you have ever had, since the day you were born, is recorded in here," Mrs Elm said, taping her finger on the cover."

Page 132: "The bear stood and stared, the way the walrus had. She glanced at the rifle. Yes. But it was too far away. By the time she could grab it and work out how to fire it, it would be too late. She doubted she'd be able to kill the bear anyway. So she banged the ladle."

Page 195: ""Look at that chessboard we put back in place," said Mrs Elm, softly. "Look at how ordered and safe and peaceful it looks now, before a game starts. It's a beautiful thing. But it is boring. It is dead. And yet the moment you make a move on that board, things change. Things begin to get more chaotic. And that chaos builds with every single move you make.""

Page 266: "Mrs Elm placed a hand above the desk and hastily rummaged for something. A second later she was handing Nora an orange plastic fountain pen. The kind Nora had owned at school. The one she had noticed ages ago."

Page 41: "I hopped off the ladder I was standing on and rummaged in my bag for my small mirror. "Aim it here," I told Harbi, pointing to a spot above my head on the wall. I tweaked the little hand mirror so that a beam of light struck Wyatt directly in the eye."

Page 146: "That day, when I go to visit Win, she has a surprise for me. Sitting across her lap is a piece of framed Egyptian art on papyrus."

Page 319: "I pad down the hall, holding my breath at the silence. The last thing I want is to hear them together. I let myself into my bedroom and sit down on the bed and see it - a limestone flake on my pillow, with a hieroglyphic message scrawled in Sharpie."

Page 67: "I peer inside the sealed glass bell jar that has mysteriously appeared at the nurses' station. Inside, malachite-green ferns. Moss. A rock. White roots wiggle through gravelly soil. What's it called? A terrarium, yes, that's it. Very hip. I'm not sure why it makes me feel unsettled. I rotate the terrarium to admire it from a different angle. And that's when I see it. A miniature house, the size of a matchbox, rendered in resin, tucked inside a mossy hollow."

Page 150: "I flick through the remaining three cuttings. Just a few photographs of the Forest of Dean. I smooth the largest one with my palm, wanting, like a child, to step into the picture."

Page 182: "Feeling bad that I didn't notice Teddy was in trouble, I glance back at Baby Forest. Something looks different. At first I can't work out what. Then I realize she's on the other side of the blanket, no longer scratching at the wicker basket, but on the opposite far edge."

Page 337: "A woodpecker. A chisling sound. Beak on bark. Or skull. But Rita can't see the bird. She can't see anything."

Page 352: ""If there's one thing I've learned these last few months, Mum, it's that I'm so your daughter. No one else's. Just like Annie's mine. And Poppy is Annie's." She starts the engine and the car bucks, then starts to growl."

Page 47: "The image made her start and she let out a gasp. It was a simple, uncluttered, picture: a single bed covered with a white cotton counterpane and, sitting on that, a box about the size of a shoe box. It was decorated all over with pictures of yellow roses cut from wallpaper, faded now and curling in places near the edges, but otherwise looking well cared for, considering its age. Cecily would have known it anywhere."

Page 97: ""Put it down, darling. It's hot!" Felicity said shrilly, standing to take it from him, but Hugo, anxious to show how very capable and grown up he was, turned quickly away from her and sent the cafetiere knocking into Richard's leg. The coffee splashed up and over his shirt."

Page 186: "As the bus beetled through the narrow streets to pick other passengers up, Cecily found her sunglasses in her bag and put them on. She held a clean tissue to her face but with a gargantuan effort she found that she was able to contain her emotion, not allowing it to overflow and impinge on those around her."

Page 304: ""What on earth are you doing?" she asked as she took in the scene. "I finished the jigsaw," he said, his voice triumphant. Cecily saw that there was indeed a complete picture of Monument Valley sitting on her table. Except for one piece of sky. The green baize of the mat shone through where should have been cobalt blue."

Page 9: "I have also brought along my litter-picking tongs and a small refuse sack. It is a lifelong habit of mine to pick up litter because of something my dear father once said. It is a small act of remembrance as well as a token gesture to atone for the chaos left behind by the human race."

Page 108: "After going through both my ruined scarlet bag and my rather less good but at least unvandalized fuchsia and gold handbag without success, I delve into my suitcase. I discover the tin of fragrant Darjeeling in its depths but no reading glasses. The tea is some consolation, however."

Page 269: "Dietrich comes to my room fairly often. He doesn't waste time in small talk or ask how I am. He knows I can't answer. "Mrs. McCreedy," he exclaims in a voice of eagerness, "I am going to read you another chapter from "Great Expectations". I'm sure you're going to like it." He clears his throat and starts without further preamble."

Page 321: "I touch my locket as it hangs there under my many layers of clothes, the metal smooth against my skin. It is tightly packed now. In addition to the four strands that were there before, there are two new specimens of human hair, plus a tiny tuft of fluff from a penguin."

Page 25: ""You have a fine head of hair, John Lowry." It is what she always says, yet she always wants to cut it off. She begins her work, snipping and clipping, until she sets down her shears, brushes off her apron, and lifts the cloth from my shoulders, shaking it briskly into the yard."

Page 76: ""You've got my attention, Mrs. Caldwell. But I'm not sure that's what you really want." He sets his coffee down and begins to rise."

Page 130: "When I give him the picture of a nodding Indian girl, a little boy at her back with his hands in her hair, a suggestion of a horse transposed over the top of them, he doesn't say anything, but he swallows, his throat working up and down. He rolls it into a scroll and wraps it with the others I've given him in a piece of cloth soaked in linseed oil and dried to make it resistant to water, and when he looks up to find me watching, he gives me one of his mother's crooked smiles."

Page 328: "They left Wolfe's body behind. It was a gift, a mercy to Naomi, and she is with him now. She washed him and wrapped him in a small wool blanket with a stripe of every color. Washakie gave it to her, and Naomi said it reminded her of her mother's coat, the coat of many colors, like Joseph sold into Egypt."

Page 97: "I flicked the envelope open. Inside was a Post-it stuck to a scrap of computer paper, torn from a corner. Both papers had strings of numbers written on them. 527434340100 on the purple Post-it, 8914512191 on the scrap. They were both in the same handwriting - block numbers, not Eleanor's."

Page 120: "I stepped back and surveyed the bedroom, my chest throbbing, my thoughts a wail: Where are you, Eleanor? In the en suite bathroom, I poked at the makeup bag yawning open on the shelf. Lots of Gleam products - she practiced what she preached."

Page 215: "I crept back into my room and looked around, taking in the details, all the things Eleanor, once a living, breathing, red-blooded girl, had chosen, given places of honor in her bedroom. A Frida Kahlo portrait watched me coolly from above the door. Had Eleanor truly planned to move to Mexico, or was it a harmless fantasy?"

Page 283: "A few steps later my eyes fell on the craft organizer hanging from her closet door. I saw them all clustered in one pocket, like a deadly bouquet - shiny and sharp, the same tool I'd often seen in her overstuffed backpack on account of all the careful photo cutting she was doing. My chest turned to cold steel, and before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and touched the cap of one, the X-Acto knife's blade glistening below it."

Page 115: "Scott picked up the tangle of bracelets he had rescued from his cottage and held them for a long moment. He started to say something. Stopped. Malcolm expected some sort of complaint, but when he looked more closely, Scott seemed calmer, the touch of the bracelets perhaps a reminder of how much was at stake."

Page 169: "Malcolm found it - a tiny fleck of red among the brown, about two-thirds of the way across the swath of tumbled rock. Pete handed the binoculars back and Scott seized them. He fumbled with the focus knob, taking so long to adjust it that Malcolm was ready to rip them from his hands. Finally, he nodded. "Red with white flowers. It's Kat's hat.""

Page 262: ""Wait...let me get it...it's canvas." A pause. "It's part of Kat's bag!" The energy in Scott's voice came through clearly. "Are you sure?" Malcolm remembered the bag. Some sort of school name on its side, with an eagle logo. Kat has been there. She and the children must have made it to the pond. "Are you really sure?" "Positive.""

Page 37: "Margot started. Her grandmother stood in the doorway, a wooden bowl of water in one hand, herbs tied with rough twine in the other. Under the stench of vomit and rot, Margot smelled lavender. They locked eyes, her grandmother's unspoken question writ clear on her broad face. Could he be saved?"

Page 101: "Veronique had always like the smell of fresh pine. Then bending, she swapped the lockets Grandmere had given them, hers for Veronique's. They were identical, but she would always know this one belonged to her sister. In the end, she simply walked away - no more words, no more tears - because there was nothing else to do."

Page 110: "She rooted around in her pocket until her fingers brushed against the small wooden disk she'd taken from Hercule's shop, all she had left of him."

Page 275: "He placed a cup in her hand, then propped himself on the opposite end of the log. Margot inhaled the steam from the cup. She took a sip and sighed. The sweetness worked its way into her head, clearing her thoughts. David Henry chuckled. "Apple tea. Good, ain't it?" he said. "One of Remembrance's specialties.""

Page 24: "I took off my coat and lay it across the arm of a green velvet chaise lounge, then crossed to the window to close the curtains. A photograph frame sat on the windowsill. The black and white image inside was of a woman standing in front of a bi-plane, squinting slightly against the sun. There was a tag attached to the photo; I read it."

Page 138: ""Air Transport Auxiliary. They deliver aircraft from the factories to all the air bases - move aircraft around the country for maintenance, that kind of thing. They're letting a few women in as pilots now - I suppose they've got to, since there simply aren't enough chaps around to meet demand these days." Janie grabbed her clutch bag, snapped open the fasteners, took out a newspaper clipping and rested it on the table in front of me."

Page 304: ""That's my jacket," I said, but she was already strapped in. She began to unstrap. "No, don't worry. I'll fly in yours, but I need my compass. It's in the right pocket. Sorry, I know it's ridiculous, but I never fly without it." She reached through her parachute straps and delved into the pocket."

Page 391: "Sam lifted Juliet into the seat and tucked her up with blankets before I could run after them and beg Juliet to change her mind, the sparkling Yellow Tiger Moth was speeding along the runway, and as I lifted my hand to cover the glare of the midday sun, I saw Juliet waving at me wildly from the front seat, her bright yellow scarf trailing behind her."

Page 395: ""It's a letter from Juliet," Sam said, sitting down on the rocks beside me and placing the envelope on my lap. Fenella made swift excuses to leave. "I got one, too," he said. "She dictated them to the night manager at the care home. I read mine this morning." He handed me the letter with a smile."