“Yes,” Matt said quickly, and hated himself for it. He didn’t know anything of the sort, and why should he bother to make Rachel, or any of the others, feel better about it? He should be more assertive, stick up for himself a bit more. “Maybe.”

“Well, we do.” Rachel leaned over and opened the hatch. “Guys,” she called, “do we love Matt?”

Whatever conversation Tim, Edmund, Pru and Robert were having died down, and quickly there was a resounding “Yes!” before it started up again.

Rachel left the hatch propped open and righted herself. “See.”

“Thanks,” Matt said.

“Anytime.” Rachel touched him on the arm, and he couldn’t help but look down at her hand, welcoming her touch.

“What’s that?” he said.

“Hmm?”

“On your wrist.” He had thought he’d seen it before, something out of the corner of his eye. But now he was sure—there was something there at the top of her wrist, written in black just under her palm.

“Oh, this.” Rachel withdrew her hand, and looked at the writing as though she were seeing it for the first time. “It’s nothing really.” She held her wrist out for Matt to see. On Rachel’s left wrist in small letters, almost incomprehensible, was a six-letter word, all in capitals in strong black ink.

ASCEND

“Ascend?” Matt said. He ran his finger over the letters, and felt her shiver at the touch. He looked up and their eyes met for a glorious second that he could live in forever. She smiled. And he did too.

Amy barked at a runner going by, and the moment was broken.

Rachel withdrew her wrist as quickly as she had offered it. She clutched it with her hand as though it hurt.

“What does it mean?” Matt said, wanting that moment back.

Rachel just looked at him sadly. “I told you, it’s nothing.” And without another word, she went inside the cabin.

Matt just watched her, trying to ignore the fact Amy was staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to tell her.” Amy barked, as if to say Yeah, right.

He took a swig of beer and then another, and before he knew it, he’d finished the can.

He focused on the journey, watching the world go by at a snail’s pace. The canal was quiet, as if everyone had made way for the famous Standedge group. He passed a couple of boats moored to the side of the canal, but there was no sign of life in any of them. Amy settled down at his feet, stretching across the deck. A serene calm came over him, and for half an hour he just enjoyed the ride.

As the sound from inside the cabin grew rowdier—no doubt thanks to the insane amount of beer—he saw a sign for Standedge and saw the outskirts of Marsden and knew they were getting close.