There was another crack, loud enough to cut her off. We all turned to look at the lake. It was snowing more heavily. The scene was beginning to look like a black-and-white TV with bad reception. Between the flying flakes, it was possible to see that out in the middle a large sheet of ice had broken into pieces, one was sinking beneath the water, and a black hole was visible, gaping wide, where I had stood only minutes before.

“You know, Andy, you are completely fucking insane. How do you feel when you look at that? You could have died,” Rob said.

Priss, Zack, and Alice were looking at me curiously. Perhaps they thought I was capable of anything.

“Longing,” Marcus said. “She feels longing.”

In the boot room, I stripped off my outer layers and my wet socks. My ankle wasn’t entirely good, but I couldn’t really feel it. In the library, Zack built an enormous fire and while the others stood turning themselves before it, I took up a place in an armchair, jamming my bare feet beneath me. Away from the fire, the house was cold, but I was unbothered by it. My eyelids felt heavy and when I closed them for long moments, I found that I was still out on the ice, its frosted surface passing beneath my feet like a treadmill. Each time I felt the ice crack, I opened my eyes to see everything going on around me as before.

At one point a mug of coffee was thrust into my hand and then a ham sandwich.

I closed my eyes. The ice cracked. This time would I fall?

Peter and Marcus were at the window, looking out and discussing whether we should head back. “Must be four inches,” Marcus said. “We should go.”

“Up Burlip Hill?” Peter’s voice was doubtful.

“No one’s going anywhere. You have to stay. Besides there’s a mad man out there. It’s far too dangerous to set foot outside.” Rob had come to stand beside them. “Yes, a mad man, a slobbering, ax-wielding, staggering cliché of homicidal mania, with a suitcase full of wrath and an encyclopedic knowledge of sex crimes.”

“Are you sure?” Marcus asked.

“Oh, quite sure,” Rob said, clapping him on the back. “He’s practically family.”

So we stayed, drinking steadily, first whiskey in the coffees, and then wine. Priss bustled in and out with the glasses and later there were canapés. “I got them from Marks,” she said. “You just throw them in. What will you do with your prize, David?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it.” David was by the fire and I saw him take the necklace from his pocket and hold it idly in one hand.

“It’s only glass, isn’t it, Em?”

“And if the necklace was real,” she said, “what would we all do then?”

“What would that even mean? For it to be real?” I asked.

“It would mean you could exchange it for lots and lots of money,” Alice said.