‘Nearly.’ She smiled. ‘I’m part of a … well, we jokingly call ourselves The Menopausal Army. Of course, that joke’s a bit past its sell-by date, now. We’re well out of the menopause. But we raise awareness on issues we think are important. People call us conspiracy theorists. I prefer the term “activist”.’

‘Menopausal Army …’ Alastair chuckled, then said more seriously, ‘But maybe we should call the police? Seems like this ’as become somethin’ they should deal with …’

Vivian shrugged. ‘I have a horrible feeling that it doesn’t matter who comes, or how many. By that time, it’ll all be over. It’ll be too late.’

It felt like the day before getting sick, Vivian thought, when you weren’t sick yet, but you could feel it developing: the hot rasp in the back of the throat, the thirst, the headache building behind your eyes. There was nothing to do but wait for the universe to pummel her.

So, this is where she would be when it came.

‘Gotta boat, if you want it.’

Vivian’s gasp hitched in her throat.

‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Gotta boat,’ Alastair repeated, not looking at her but out towards the island. ‘Didn’t tell you about it before, when you asked, but … well, I’ve been doing some thinking since then. I’m done with this place. I likes the quiet but there’s quiet and there’s dead. Time to move on.’

Vivian was too scared to breathe.

‘Your girl,’ he said quietly, ‘I remember her. I remember them all. They looked … tired. And sad. All of ’em. I took the money because it was offered and they were a big, important business, they told me. But now? Your girl. Flames and smoke.’ He paused and stared at the horizon. ‘You wouldn’t know because everyone’s gone now but this used to be a good place once, a happy place. It shouldn’t be this.’

He screwed the cap back on the flask and cleared his throat.

‘I think I can get a boat. If you want to get there, we can try.’

Emptiness all around her: sea, sky, land for miles.

‘I do,’ Vivian breathed. ‘I want to get there.’

‘Right then.’

He stalked off and Vivian knew she would need to hurry after him. But she wanted to hold this moment in her head, this fluttering of hope once more, this feeling that she could still do something, she could still ride to the rescue of her little girl.

Two geriatrics in a rowboat.

Because that other feeling was still there, wasn’t it? The sick feverish belch of something horrific lying in wait for her. It was coming. No matter what she did, how much she scurried around, how many people she roped into her cause, it was always there. She hadn’t ever deserved a daughter like Thea; she’d got lucky.

And her luck was about to run out.

Chapter 59