I immediately regretted what I’d done. If Emma couldn’t find anyone she would die of dehydration or starvation. She wouldn’t know how to find water or food in the wilderness and it was hot out there. Too hot. What if the heat became too much and she fainted and a wild dog came along and … I bit my lip so hard it hurt, unable to complete the thought, fighting the horrific scene that pushed its way into my mind. Other images collided with each other: Mother finding Emma, dragging her back to the cottage, punishing her for running away, or, worse still, someone as awful as the man in this house finding her, taking her back to his house, torturing her, murdering her …

For a second I thought I was going to be sick. I bent over and focused on breathing. Working myself into a state was pointless. I had to think.

‘Hey! Where’s the other one gone?’

I spun around. In one hand the man held a plate piled high with slabs of fatty meat and steaming potatoes. In the other hand he held a can. He took a long swig from the can then entered the room, elbowing the door closed behind him and nearly losing his balance.

‘Hey! I asked you a question!’ he barked. He made his way to the sofa, kicking empty cans out of his path.

‘She’s gone. Out there,’ I said softly.

He eased himself down, groaning as he did so and took another swig of drink then placed the can between his right knee and the arm of the sofa and began to shovel meat and potatoes into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing down the food noisily. He followed every couple of mouthfuls with a swig from his can.

‘Gone has she?’ he chuckled, then burped.

‘Please, sir,’ I tried, ‘please can I use your telephone?’

‘Who’re you so desperate to call?’ he said, not looking up from his plate.

I paused. Should I lie or tell the truth?

I swallowed, wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my trembling hand. ‘My parents. Emma and I got lost in the woods …’

He nodded and looked at me. His eyes looked strange, like jiggling marbles. A memory of Mother and I playing with marbles entered my head followed by one of us playing with conkers tied to string. Sometimes she had been fine. My heart hurt and then I thought about how she had treated me the last few weeks – how she had lied to me for so long – made me believe I was dying. Anger tore through me and I stared straight at the man.

‘Let me use the telephone or let me leave,’ I said as confidently as I could, crossing my arms and lifting my chin, trying to stand tall.