Will breaks. The fact that he’s wilfully skipping a lesson is the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he and Alfie play five games of pool, all of which Will loses.

I’ve got complacent.

I was beginning to think I’d got a handle on how this works: I follow you, I watch what’s coming up ahead, and if there’s a chance to be taken to do some good and improve you into the bargain, then I do what I can to get a message through that will guide you towards taking that chance. The more we do it, the more you’ll trust me. The more you trust me, and the more confident you become, the more I can ask of you.

But the rules, it seems, are changing. Or perhaps I never understood them.

When this began, that night at the level crossing – what, a month ago? – I could see weeks ahead. Sure, I couldn’t see things in the distance clearly, but it was there all the same: a month of time stretched out ahead of me. But now, I can see a week and a half, at most. I’m getting shorter-sighted every day. The longer I follow you, the less I can see.

And that’s not my only worry.

‘You saved my life,’ Alfie said.

A bit dramatic, maybe. But you did save him from a world of trouble. And you’ve made a firm friend.

But you haven’t saved his life, I fear.

Because I keep getting hit by those flashes – everybody panicking, writhing, certain of their doom. But now there’s another vision that keeps coming for me, too. I see the marshes. Ground fog. Early, barely daylight. It’s normal, it’s normal, it’s normal, it’s –

What is that?

The sickness in the stomach. The reluctance to look. The need to look.

I can’t just see it. I can feel it.

Black, skeletal tree. Rope. Body. Limp. Hanging.

Familiar. All too familiar.

If you really have saved Alfie’s life, why do I keep seeing this? Just like that scene where everyone screams, where everyone dies, why does this vision seem like a premonition and a memory, too?

I only hope I can work it out. Work it out in time.

I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying.

If only we could talk, you and I. If only there weren’t so many degrees of separation between us. One conversation might unlock it all.

It’s not all bad news, though. You’re doing great. Already you’re so much bolder. In fact, right now, all you need from me is a tiny little push, no more.

Pay attention. Today, fate has done the hard work for us. All you need is a well-timed reminder that opportunity exists for one reason only – to be taken.

I’m here, I’ll remind you.

Not a Date