‘But what if someone’s been here all along?’ Maddie says, her voice cracking under her words. ‘Arrived before us. What if they came before the snow?’

‘What size prints were they?’ Thomas dips a piece of toast into his egg, and as the yellow trickles down the shell, he shoves the toast into his mouth.

‘Finn said they were made by large feet.’ Ruth turns to me. ‘What do you think, Amelia? You saw them, didn’t you?’

All eyes are on me, and Dad’s forehead furrows. ‘You saw them, Amelia? You never said.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’ It sounds pathetic now I think about it. ‘I was going to mention it this morning. I think we should tell Rosamund.’

‘Tell Rosamund what?’ She’s standing in the doorway, looking stunning in her orange coat, her wavy blonde hair spilling from her fur hat.

‘We were talking about the footprints,’ Ruth says. ‘Tea, coffee?’

‘Tea please, I’ve gone off coffee since I fell pregnant.’ She sits down next to Dad, and he shuffles his chair away. ‘What footprints?’ she asks.

‘There were footprints in the snow last night,’ Ruth says. ‘Whoever made them walked from the woods to your cottage.’

‘Oh God,’ Rosamund says, peeling off her gloves. ‘Maybe Elise did see someone hanging about.’

‘Elise saw someone?’ Dad says. ‘Nobody tells me anything.’

Rosamund shudders and nods. ‘Well she said she did. Said he was wearing a mask, and was looking in at her through the window of our cottage. But she makes things up. Always has done.’

‘It seems odd though, don’t you think?’ I say. ‘Especially after last time.’

‘I’ll talk to her again about it when she wakes up. Anyway, I didn’t notice any footprints this morning.’ She raises a perfect eyebrow.

‘Well we saw them last night, Rosamund.’ I bite into a croissant and chew. Crumbs fall onto the table. ‘It’s snowed since then. Covered them over.’

She shudders again. ‘Don’t, please, you’re giving me the creeps.’

Ruth hands her a mug of tea. ‘Get that down you, lass. It’ll make you feel better.’

After taking several sips, Rosamund puts the mug on the table. ‘Anyway, we’re going to head for home today,’ she says. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m not sure what I was thinking.’ She’s talking too fast, and her hands are trembling. ‘The weather’s getting worse, more snow expected later with winds of up to seventy miles per hour.’

‘I think you may be out of luck, Rosamund,’ Dad says, as though he’s getting pleasure from his words. ‘All the roads are blocked around here.’

‘But we desperately need to get back to the comfort of our own home.’

Ruth rests her hand on Rosamund’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry. I’m cooking a nice beef Wellington later.’