‘Well,’ she said, ‘the old lady was always doing crosswords and one day she had this dictionary on the table beside her and showed me how to use it. She played a game with me of finding words, inventing meanings and making each other guess – a “true or false?” sort of game. It was great. Then she’d make me put the book away and told me that if I left it open the words might fly off!’ Marnie laughed. ‘I guess it was pretty clever of her because it made me very careful with books and the habit’s stayed with me. If I pick up a book that’s been left lying open I still half expect the pages to be blank! How’s that for a neurosis?’

‘D’you know,’ said Christopher, ‘you’ve reminded me of something. When we used to stay with my Scottish grandparents on Mull, there was a 1909 edition of Grimms’ Fairy Tales illustrated by Arthur Rackham in the old night nursery. I can still see its red and gold cover, and smell the musty scent of its pages . . . it gives me a shiver of terror even now. Some of the pictures were beautiful but some were incredibly scary. It was fine by day, but as soon as the light was put out I used to imagine that the giants and witches and goblins might escape. I used to keep a torch under my pillow and creep across to the bookcase to check that the book’s covers were safely shut and it was tight in the bookcase. I haven’t thought about it for years, but . . .’ he laughed down at her, ‘I can see all the pictures clearly in my mind’s eye and do you know, one of the illustrations reminds me of you.’

‘Well thanks! Some gnarled old witch, I suppose.’

‘Not at all – you’re Rackham’s goose girl! If you come and stay at my old home I’ll have to get hold of it and show you. My mother took the book after my grandmother died.’

She leaned back against him. ‘Better be careful,’ she teased, secretly very flattered. ‘Release the goose girl and you might let out more than you bargained for.’

‘What a pair of shipwrecked mariners we are,’ he said, after a bit. ‘I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that I took a human life. You’re facing the fact that you tried to take your own. Do you think it’s just chance that we’ve washed up on the same shore?’

‘I don’t know.’ Marnie’s heart began to thump disconcertingly. ‘I suppose it depends if you believe in destiny. What do you think?’