“Who the fuck are you?” Robbie, left or right, I don’t know.

“I, I, I . . .” I stammer, making him laugh again. The light moves round. They’re getting closer, creeping slowly like predators, keeping to the longer grass. They’re still a few feet away, eyes fixed on me.

“Perhaps now is the time you tell me why you’ve been following me, Mr. Jon?” He knows my name. I remember Mandy from the haulage company called me Mr. Jon just a few hours ago. She must have told him I was looking for him, that she sent me to the pub, and roused his suspicion. He saw me just before he left the pub, knew I’d been watching him.

The black, when it comes again, feels darker because of the brief light.

“I thought I’d lost you on the path on the way up. But you were hiding, waiting for us, weren’t you?”

“Rob, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up, Tone.”

I have to try to reason with them. They need to believe I can help them. I feel every cell of my body, light with fear. I see Jakey waiting for me outside New Barn Cottage. I could lie, pretend I didn’t hear them talking outside the caravan, pretend I don’t know that Grace has something over Tony, that he’s scared of her, that I don’t think Tony’s capable of murder. But it would serve no purpose. I have to let them know I heard everything, I have to take the risk. My breath is still ragged from the running, forcing me to talk in rapid, short bursts.

“I heard you talking. Tony, I heard what you said: the lies Grace would tell the police, that if she did, you’d go back to prison. I know she’s involved with her mum’s murder. If you tell me the truth, maybe I can help.”

I hear one of them shuffle and Tony asks, “How can you help?”

I swallow. At last my breath is becoming more regular.

“I can act as a witness. I can tell the police everything I heard, tell them Grace was blackmailing you. I’m a journalist, I’ll help you prove your story. But you have to tell me the truth about what happened to Meg and Grace. That’s the only way.”

“You must think we’re fucking idiots.” Robbie’s voice is a growl out of the darkness before the light flashes round again. Tony has moved closer to his brother, he looks like he’s ready to hold him back if he needs to. Robbie’s eyes are fixed on me; his cheeks are red and his lips wet. I’m surprised he hasn’t moved forward, closer to me.

“You think we’re going to believe a fucking journalist? You’ve been buzzing around like a fly on shit. You’re not here to help Grace, you’re not here to help my brother—”

“He might be serious, Rob,” but Tony’s drowned out by the sound of rubble falling, hitting the rocks below, a cruel, strangely hollow sound.