Dutifully they turned left, and after about twenty minutes of driving through more fields and trees, they came to another signpost, discreetly lit with a softly glowing lamp. It displayed directions to five holiday properties, each of which had been given its own name: Herne, Titania, Puck, Woden, and Frig.

‘We’re staying in Herne, apparently.’

They drove on, following a narrow country road that seemed to hug the edges of a sprawling field, until a cottage loomed up in their headlights, grey and box-shaped and oddly inert-looking. Heather retrieved the keys from the lock box by the side of the front door, and together they brought their stuff in: suitcases, a bag of food and drink. Inside, all was cosy and neutral, and Heather found that she was oddly relieved. This was a place designed to be inoffensive, palatable to any holiday maker – no personality required. There were biscuit-coloured sofas, deep red rugs, and discreet modern lighting, hidden among the beams that crossed the ceiling. No chance here, she told herself, of coming across sheets of paper from the notebook your mother used for her suicide note, no danger of an innocuous object rousing some long-forgotten trauma. Whatever was haunting her in Balesford could stay there.

Someone had thoughtfully left a small pile of the day’s newspapers on the central table along with a pair of empty wine glasses, a bottle of wine, and a box of posh biscuits. Nikki went to the small open kitchen and began unpacking food, while Heather searched for a corkscrew.

‘This isn’t so bad,’ Heather said when they were ensconced on the sofa, sipping from glasses of wine. Nikki had her legs tucked under her, one of the local newspapers spread on her lap. ‘I could easily put up with four days of this.’ She slipped her phone out of her pocket. No messages from Ben Parker, but then, there was no phone signal either. She resolved to text him the next time she saw some stable bars on the screen, just to see how he was – it might not make any difference to how he felt about her, but it could ease some of her own guilt.

‘What’s your plan?’

‘Hmm? Oh, eat a lot of crap, sleep a lot.’

‘How is that different from usual?’