‘I should get on the boat, now, hmm?’ Harriet tried again, moving to block his view of Thea and Rory’s tree as they shifted around it, trying to keep out of sight.

He stood up and turned, wiping the snow from his gloved hands, leaving white patches on his trousers. Harriet moved and then Thea could only see her boots, the way that clumps of snow clung to the waterproof material, before melting. There one minute, then gone.

There was just the quiet of the trees, a gentle shushing of branches rubbing together, most of the leaves long fallen and rotted away. There was no birdsong and daylight crisscrossed the snowy forest floor in a delicate latticework design. If the man saw her, all that would be left of her would be a dent in the snow.

Above her, Harriet crossed her fingers behind her back.

The walkie-talkie at the man’s waist crackled.

There was a tinny voice that Thea couldn’t catch, but then the man spoke. ‘What? Say that again? Over.’

Harriet shifted her feet. Crackle, crackle, a smudge of a voice.

‘Copy that.’

More crunching of snow.

‘I’ve got to go back to the Centre, Ms Stowe. But I’m getting you on this boat first.’

‘Of course! Of course. Lead the way.’

Harriet’s boots disappeared and the footsteps retreated. Thea wished she could have seen Harriet’s face one last time, to somehow show her in a silent look that she was grateful, indescribably grateful for what she had just done and that she would remember it – and her – for as long as she lived.

However long that was to be.

‘Let’s go,’ Rory whispered.

Chapter 61

The blank whiteness of snow on the ground started to make Thea’s eyes ache. It burned through to her brain.

She felt very visible as they veered off through the trees and started to climb sharply, roughly following a coastal path. Thea’s leg muscles protested at the sudden exercise. She wasn’t sure if it was the brightness of the snow, or the lack of food, drink, and sleep but the world was starting to spin.

Her shoulder remained stiff from the fall she’d taken with Ethan at the lighthouse but she kind of quite liked that dull ache. In a way she didn’t want it to heal because when it did, there would be nothing left to remind her of him.

Ethan was already fading.

Rosie was a body they’d left behind.

They only had ghosts for company.

The track started to level off and they found themselves on the cliff path once more, acutely aware that they could be clearly seen, two little sitting-duck silhouettes against the sky. So they crawled the final stretch, hands numb from the shock of the snow.