The thing she said about the single bullet glinting in the moonlight like something beautiful. I can see it. The feeling of the gun’s barrel, snug in my hand, so heavy. I can feel it. The sound it made, tearing the night to shreds. I can hear it. The moments after, when I opened my eyes. There was nothing there. I saw nothing at all. A black hole, a white patch, a cloak of nothingness.

I hear a sound. It’s Eirik, standing right in front of me, speaking.

‘What?’ I whisper, my whole body feeling weak and strangely numb.

‘Look, I’ve managed to free the front door. It’s just after noon. I was thinking I’d get some more firewood out of the shed, and once I’ve got the fire going, I’ll try to make my way down to the car. I should have phone reception there. At least now the door is free.’

‘Okay,’ I say. I think about the strange moments that passed between us before. I was afraid of him. But am I just disorientated and in shock? This is my husband. I’ve known him inside out for fourteen years. I smile at Eirik and he smiles back. Still, something is different about him, in the way he watches me. He places a glass of water on the table in front of me, next to the laptop, and kisses the top of my head lightly.

‘Kristina?’ he calls from over by the front door.

‘Yeah,’ I say, leaning forward to see past the doorway. He pushes the door open to show me the tunnel he’s dug outside. In his right hand is the pickax. I feel another surge of fear. What have you done? I think, looking at him.

‘I’m getting the firewood, okay? Do you need anything?’

‘No. I… Actually, I wondered about something.’

‘What?’ He’s halfway out the door but turns back to look at me.

‘Did you ever meet Leah?’ I’ve spoken without properly thinking through the consequences, unusual for me – my impulse control is good. Her name hovers in the air between us. I watch Eirik very carefully. There is no reaction other than a very slight clench of his jaw.

‘Leah Iverson?’ He repeats her name, as though I might be referring to some other Leah than the Leah who owned this cabin, who stalked me, who killed herself, who set in motion a devastating chain of events, who insinuated that there could be some juicy stories in store about the man in front of me.

‘Yes.’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Okay.’

‘Why? Did she ask about me or something? She might have been aware of who you were married to.’

‘No. No she didn’t.’

‘I knew who she was, like I said. I imagine most people would. She was pretty high profile, wasn’t she?’

‘I guess.’