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Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

She doesn’t ask, though, so we just stand there, on the edge of the cliff, the moon watching over us and the sea beckoning beneath until finally she says, ‘The moon looked so pretty. I just wanted to take a photo of it. I didn’t realise I was so close to the edge and then it just . . .’ she stops to look up at the moon, ‘. . . wasn’t there any more.’

When I see her smudged eyeliner, a mascara-coloured tear skidding down her cheek, I realise that her eyes are brown, like mine, but the light behind them has gone and I wonder what they were like before. Before I got here. I wonder who’s waiting for her at home. If her parents are up, pretending to be engrossed in Newsnight so it doesn’t look like they’ve been waiting up for her. Her mother swaddled in a thick dressing gown, phone in hand, while her father listens out for the curmudgeonly creak of the gate, followed by Alice’s careful footsteps as she navigates the gravel path in her heels.

But she isn’t going home, is she? The thought makes me want to turn and run into the sea, let it pull me under, carry me to wherever it is that I’m supposed to be. But I can’t. I can’t leave her. So I walk over to where she’s standing and peer over the edge. It’s dark, but I can see her – Alice Anderson – on the path, her limbs at unnaturally odd angles on the concrete, a halo of fresh blood beneath her head.

We stand there for a while, my hands in the pockets of my jacket and Alice’s in the pockets of her hot-pink coat. Eventually, she tilts her cheek towards me. ‘Are you an angel?’ I try not to laugh. ‘If you’re not an angel, what are you, then?’ She looks me up and down and I let her. Let her take in that I’m in black, from my DMs and jeans to my hoodie and leather jacket. Her gaze narrows when she sees my silver scythe necklace.

With that, her pale skin becomes almost see-through against the dark sky, her edges blurred, like she’s already disappearing. A whisper of moths gathers, settling in her curls as she watches me look over the cliff again then does the same. When she sees the sharp shadow of Charon on the beach below, the moonlight picking out his wooden boat as it bobs gently on the suddenly still sea, she turns to me with a curious frown.

‘Is he here for me?’

I nod.

‘Where am I going?’

I hold out my hand. ‘You’ll see.’

Twelve

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TWELVE