In my dream I find myself in a field with Jess and we are walking in silence. At some point, I notice the rain, the sky melting to a dappled grey behind us. As the drops fall against my face, I lift my chin, feeling renewed by every splash. It is a while before I notice the party behind us, the roar of it having faded the further away we walked into the field; the clatter of cans and pulsing techno stretch out into a low hum. When the rain stops I hear her breathe in deeply beside me.

My heart is beating heavily against my chest and the air is cold in my throat as the wind gets up, whipping against the bare flesh of my calves.

‘What time do you think it is?’ I ask. We have come to a halt by a cluster of cows who continue to gnaw at the ground, oblivious to the rain lashing against their coats. It is so cold, I think, the rain making my bones ache as it drives against my skin. I can no longer remember whose idea it was to come up here and all I want is to be somewhere else.

Opening my eyes and turning back to face the way I’d come, I see she has already gone.

Chapter 7

Gabriela

The chill of the night air clawed at her the moment she stepped onto the runway in Moscow. It was nearly 9p.m., five hours since she had made her way up the stairs to the jet at Heathrow, holding the handrail to steady herself against the wind. Once she’d stowed her rucksack in the overhead locker, she pulled out the eye-mask Tom had given her as they’d said goodbye at the doorway to her house, which he would continue to rent from her for the two years that she would be away.

It had begun to rain as the plane took off, the wind causing it to judder as they pushed into the unremarkable afternoon sky. Looking down, she thought briefly of her mother, of how she would always insist they sit at the front of the plane, and then pop a couple of pills from the box in her bag and spend the flight ignoring Gabriela as she flicked through the radio channels, struggling to adjust her headphones.