‘Is he in a huff with you or something?’ Michael asks. ‘Maybe we’ll just leave him out here. He can catch his own lunch. But you and I should go inside. Let’s go now, Liberty. Come on.’

I kneel to Skywalker, hand on his back. Skywalker is almost totally still, the only movement being the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

‘Skywalker?’

He doesn’t respond.

‘Something’s wrong,’ I say, crouching. ‘He feels too cold.’

I give Skywalker a shake, but his body is unmoving like a corpse. ‘Michael, something’s wrong. He’s … sick or something. We need to take him to a vet. Can we use your car?’

Michael’s eyes turn shadowy. ‘Poor little doggy. Let’s get him into the house and have a vet come to us. That’s the best way to do things. Here – I’ll carry him.’ He scoops Skywalker into his arms and half walks, half staggers into the house.

‘Wait.’ I jog after him. ‘If we take him to a vet surgery, they’ll have all the equipment—’

‘There isn’t anywhere like that for miles, love.’ Michael walks sideways through the front door with Skywalker in his arms. ‘We’re way out in the country. But I know a vet who lives in the next village. He can come here. That’s going to be a lot quicker.’

‘How quick are we talking?’ I stay close, stroking Skywalker’s head as I follow Michael into the entranceway.

‘Let’s put your doggy in the guest bed upstairs,’ says Michael, climbing the staircase. ‘Put a blanket on him. Warm the poor fellow up. And I’ll call a vet. No more talk of leaving now. We have everything we need right here.’

Michael takes us right up to the turret room – the same one I slept in last night – and lays Skywalker on the bed.

‘Stay with him, Liberty,’ says Michael. ‘Stay right there.’

‘Please, I really don’t think … if he needs his stomach pumped, he’ll need a veterinary surgery. We’re wasting time.’

‘Sit on the bed with him, love. Or he’ll get upset. Don’t move from there, okay? You’re not going anywhere.’ Michael leaves, closing the door behind him. There’s a clicking sound.

‘Wait.’ I go to the door. ‘I don’t think this is the best way—’

But the door is stuck. I shake and rattle the handle.

There is another clicking sound, and the door opens. Michael fills the doorway. His eyes aren’t nice guy eyes anymore. There are no crinkles. They are empty, churning black holes.

‘I told you to sit down on the bed, love. And not move. There’s a girl. Sit right on that bed or there’ll be trouble. Lorna will be here any minute.’

‘What?’