Rachel shared the Claypath intelligence, although she was much quieter than her twin brother. She seemed to understand people at a fundamental level, and whenever Matt talked to her, he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was reading his mind. Luckily, she countered this with a fierce sense of humor and a warmth that radiated the fact that even if she did read your mind, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

That left Matt, who didn’t feel like he added much, but the others seemed to accept him. Except recently, the group had started pulling apart. They had been radio silent for months—their WhatsApp group totally silent. It was only exacerbated by Tim suggesting this should be the last trip through Standedge—the annual tradition was to come to an end. The group was falling apart.

Or was it Matt who was falling away? Didn’t someone in the town say they saw the other five at The Hamlet—without him?

That was why today was so important. He knew that this journey was going to reignite their friendship. It was going to pave the way for many more trips to come.

Matt checked his watch. They had all afternoon to go through the tunnel—no other boats were scheduled for passage today. Matt had the key to the gates, now he was part of the Trust. They had time, so he sat down with the others and listened to them as they talked and laughed. He sipped at his beer and just enjoyed feeling safe in the familiar company.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, happy, but the others had got onto their third or fourth cans of beer, when the discussion turned to Standedge.

“How many times have you been through the tunnel now, Matt?” Pru asked, having to slightly lean around Rachel in the narrow space to see him.

Matt shook himself. “Sorry?”

“The tunnel. How many times have you been through?”

Matt thought. He had asked himself the same question and was slightly annoyed with himself that he hadn’t counted. But like all good ideas, it had come just a little too late. “Not sure. Maybe fifty times?” he guessed.

“Fifty times,” Tim marveled, “and you’re not sick to death of it yet? I like it once a year, but more than that and I think I’d get bored.”

“No,” Matt said, and genuinely meant it. “It’s still awesome. Every time I go in, I feel that same way we felt back in Year 7. Every time, it feels like a marvel and it is. Every time, I feel lucky to do something amazing.”

He looked around the group and didn’t see quite the same enthusiasm. Edmund smiled at him but there was an element of sadness to it. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “but you are really just going through a tunnel, very slowly, on a boat.”