‘I’m not here to hurt you, I promise,’ Lily began, trying to ensure that her voice sounded non-threatening. ‘I’m just wondering if you might help me find a way out to the lighthouse?’

‘You don’t want to go there if you’ve got any sense. There’s all sorts o’ bad stuff that goes on over there. It’s a bad place. Haunted, see. What’s your business there?’

‘My business is my own, but I must get over there. Tonight, if possible. Please…’ Lily crossed her fingers in her cloak pocket.

‘I’m not happy about it, but if you really mean to get across, there’s plenty o’ boats here you can take. Most o’ the owners upped and left years ago; no one would notice if you took one o’ them out onto the water. Mind you choose one wi’ strong oars though – the current’s rough out there at this time o’ day and your visibility won’t be great with all this fog.’

‘But … I don’t know how to row a boat. Is there anyone who could take me over there? Could you?’

‘Not a chance. If you insist on goin’, I’ll show you which boats you can take but you’re on your own. I told you, no one goes out there because it ‘ent right.’ He gestured to the boat he was standing by and she edged closer. His face was obscured by a wide-brimmed hat under a heavy hood and his coat was pulled right up to his chin. He gave off such an unwelcoming atmosphere that she would have got in that boat and rowed away as fast as she could just to get away from him, had she known how.

She couldn’t put her finger on the source of her discomfort, but being near him made her skin crawl. She climbed into the boat he was standing next to and placed the strap of her bag across her body so the dampness of the floor couldn’t seep into her belongings. She grabbed the oars, attempting to look confident when in fact she felt like the entire contents of her stomach were about to reappear in the bottom of the boat.

The man unchained the vessel from its mooring post and pushed hard. Lily kept the oars in at her sides until she had floated past the other boats that hugged the harbour and then dropped them into the inky water. Her first few attempts to find a rhythm failed and she flailed, trying to get a strong hold on the wooden handles.

She soaked herself to the skin with icy water trying to turn the boat around but, gritting her teeth through the chill that was already threatening to immobilise her bare, freezing hands, she finally found a rhythm. The boat rocked and swayed as Lily discovered a certain power and strength in her arms. The ceaseless, relentless rowing sapped her energy but she felt strong; she knew that she was near her friend and that this ordeal was almost over.