Except they wouldn’t see her. She could see down to the water, but the view up would be blocked by the trees. If someone really looked hard they might, at a stretch, see the window, but would they see her? And see that she was gesturing for help?

And no one would stop there, anyway. It was private land, and she was certain that Guy had thought all this through. He would have made sure there were signs telling people to stay away, and, even if they disobeyed them, it wouldn’t help. There was no way he would have given her a window if there was any possibility that she would be visible to anyone. There might be boats out on the water – he couldn’t control that – but all they would see was a peaceful lake house.

So she was going to have to get out of here herself.

She put her hand on the window. It was clear from looking at it that it was much thicker than normal glass. She pushed it; there was no movement at all. She looked at the frame, where the edge of the glass was visible.

It was perhaps three-quarters of an inch thick.

Unbreakable.

She turned the door handle. Locked, obviously. She tried to rattle it, but it was fixed, fast. It was made of a thick metal. She banged on the wall. Stone, she thought. Either the whole house was made that way – which was not impossible for an older house – or he had built this room specially.

However it had come about – and the architectural history of the room was of no interest to her – she was not going to smash her way out of her prison.

She would have to find another way.

She looked around for a weapon. There was nothing, especially since he had taken the champagne bottle.

Maybe she could persuade him to let her out for a bit of fresh air and run away. Or fake an illness.

He would not fall for that. He was too smart. He always had been.

She had known him since they were fourteen, when he had moved to the house down the street from her and started at her school. She had a boyfriend – Connor – and Guy had started going out with Heather Stanford, who was generally considered to be unattainable by every other boy in the school.

She had, for a few months, had a crush on him. One day, walking to school, she had tried to let him know.

What would you tell a friend to do if they were secretly interested in someone, but that person was just a friend? Should they tell them?

She had hoped he would guess that the friend she was talking about was her, and give her a sly look, then take her hand in his and stop walking and turn to look at her, and then they would kiss.