In the darkness, the smooth steel of the Beauvallet fell away beneath her, no footholds, no handholds, nothing. Casey’s vision blurred. She forced herself to look down. The hammock dangled three feet below the edge of the balcony. Casey hesitated, testing it with her weight.

‘It won’t hold both of us,’ Ed warned. ‘The ropes are fraying already.’

‘Come on, Ed.’

‘It’ll kill us both,’ he whispered urgently. ‘I’ll hand myself in. I’ll . . .’

‘We have to stick together.’ In her head, Casey saw the hammock creaking, ripping, bodies plunging into the void. She forced the thoughts away.

Ed straightened up. ‘I’ll jump, Casey. You hide in the hammock. They won’t find you.’

‘If you jump, I’ll jump too.’ Casey’s whisper was fierce. ‘Try it, Ed. It’s worth a shot.’

‘Casey . . .’

She could hear the men getting closer, quieter now. They were thorough, these men. Hunters, trained.

Ed had a foot on the railing.

‘Hurry’ – as loud as she dared. ‘Now!’

He vaulted over the railing, scrambling down into the hammock. For a second, it swayed beneath their weight, and Casey felt the emptiness gape below them as the material stretched and sighed. Fifty feet of nothing, right down to the beach. Casey imagined the hammock ripping, shredding. Their bodies slipping into space and falling, and falling, and falling.

It held, for now.

There wasn’t enough space for both of them. Ed ended up half on top of her, his face a few inches from hers.

‘I’ve been’ – a sketch of a smile – ‘on better holiday breaks.’

Despite herself, Casey grinned back at him. ‘Next year will be better, I promise you. Somewhere quiet.’

She couldn’t bear to look up at her hastily tied knots on the railings. She imagined them pulling apart gradually, shifting inch by inch.

She clenched her fists in the silence.

Cat quiet, the door to the cabin opened. A man walked in, carefully. He hesitated, as if he could sense the recent movement in the room.

The footsteps moved towards the bathroom. A cupboard door opened and closed. More steps. He must be by the broken windows, thought Casey. Just a few inches away.

Ed’s eyes were boring into her. Casey couldn’t breathe. And just then, she felt the hammock give slightly.

Go away – in her head it was a scream, quite primitive. Get away from us! Go away!

Another step.

From the room, all he would see was the ends of the hammock. In the dark, it could look like a few shreds of material just hanging from the railings. It might look like nothing at all.

Another step.

Silence.

‘Jeetu.’ A shout from down the corridor. Dylan’s voice.

Abruptly, the footsteps swung away, retreated across the cabin. A heavy door slammed.

Casey let out her breath in one long stream. For a second, she felt hot tears spring in her eyes.

‘Stay still,’ Ed whispered.