‘No turning back,’ she echoed. ‘After you set your backpack and your water bottle down, you’ll need to make sure some rocks and dirt fall from the ledge. Don’t use your feet – it’s too dangerous – use your camera. Just bang it on the edge a couple of times, enough so the scene looks disturbed, like you could have slipped. Then take your camera, cover it with blood, and drop it over the edge of the cliff. Make sure it falls straight down, so it hits the rocks on the bank of the river, not the actual water. We don’t want it to get carried away. It’s the only real indication you fell.’

He nodded, a dutiful pupil.

She slid the box cutter into her pocket. ‘Go on,’ Vera said.

John leaned in, gave her one final kiss, and then turned to me.

He approached me slowly, and my heart beat fast as I contemplated what he might do. He opened his arms wide, wrapped me in a hug. He felt so warm, so strong and so safe, and I remembered, once again, the sight of him in my bed, guilty as it made me feel.

‘Don’t bleed on her,’ Vera said firmly.

John pulled away, but as he did, a whisper in my ear, so quiet I didn’t think Vera heard: ‘I’ll see you soon.’

He turned around, hand holding the bandage tight, and we watched as he walked forward, around the bend, out of sight.

A flash of panic, of paranoia – what if I never saw him again?

I searched Vera’s face for similar emotions but found none.

‘Let’s pause for water,’ she said.

Nodding, I unhooked the bottle from my belt, then began to guzzle it. I wasn’t even that thirsty, the cold preventing me, for once, from overheating, but I drank anyway, eager for something to do.

‘Wait. Your backpack is open.’ She zipped it shut, then out of nowhere, she pulled me toward her and grabbed my face in her hands, framing my cheeks, pressing. ‘This is real, Lucy,’ she said. ‘We can’t screw this up.’

My eyes caught hers, and I was as sure as I’d ever been. ‘I won’t.’

I went ahead on my own, making my way as planned. There were three turns exactly between me and the clearing, the sheer cliffs and rocks that would purport to take John away. I made the first one, and the grove seemed to close tighter around me, as if squeezing me just as Vera had done. I looked back. Already, I couldn’t see her, though I knew she was just behind. I imagined John, alone and bleeding.