On cue, John paused, turning to us. ‘I’m going to walk a bit faster,’ he said. ‘Get some photos while the light is diffused like this.’ He tried to force a smile, but his chin shook, his beard full and thick. ‘You guys are slowing me down,’ he added. His script sounded strange and stilted, but Vera had insisted upon it, claiming that it would go better if we limited our lies, told the police things that had happened, had been said. Twisted truths were better than flat-out lies.

‘Be careful,’ I said, which wasn’t necessarily part of the script, but it’s what came out anyway.

‘Have fun,’ Vera said, a better actress than me. ‘Get some good ones.’

John stepped forward then, approaching Vera, and my head swiveled back and forth, canvassing the area, making sure no one was about to approach.

His hands found her hips as he kissed her deeply. Her arms wrapped around him, and I looked away, giving them their moment, my insides twisting, fighting. They were so right together, and yet why had we kissed? Why had he spent the night in my bed? Was John his own kind of twisted truth?

‘Jesus!’ John’s voice was shrill, incredulous. ‘What the hell was that for?’

My head whipped up, trying to understand. Vera held a neon green box cutter in one hand. John cradled his forearm, a line of blood seeping from a slash just below the crook of his elbow.

He ripped his arm away. ‘Are you fucking crazy?’

‘I’m sorry, but you have to give them some sort of proof that you fell.’

She pulled out an extra-large bandage, unwrapped it, and slapped it against the wound, a temporary blockage. ‘You’ll be fine. This will tide you over for now, and when you’re in the woods, you can bandage it up properly with the first-aid kit in your bag.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because you hate blood,’ she said, matter-of-fact. ‘You never would have agreed to it.’

I sucked in a breath, ready to yell at her, to protest, only, how could I? I’d seen John cut himself chopping vegetables once. He hadn’t fainted or anything, but the blood had freaked him out – I remembered his reaction distinctly because it was such a contrast to the rest of his rough-and-tumble personality.

Besides, we did need proof – of course we did. Vera seemed to have thought of everything John and I hadn’t.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked John instead.

He nodded, fingers pressing at the bandage. ‘This is real now. Proof. No turning back.’