She moved further into the shadows, just in case Gerry glanced out of the window and saw her. On the other side of the terrace, the drawing room curtains were closed, but she could hear laughter and music coming from inside and she half wished that she had joined the other women after all. It was too late now to put in an appearance without an explanation; when she went inside, she would have to go straight to bed and apologise in the morning for her rudeness. She found the cigarettes in her bag and began to smoke one, hoping it would kill the last waves of nausea from the drink. High above her, the tower of the church was silhouetted by 137the moonlight, and in one corner she could just make out the shape of the chair they had been talking about at dinner, a solid lump of stone on the left-hand side, extending further up than the rest of the wall. She stepped back to get a better look, then jumped when she felt the warmth of another body behind her and heard her husband’s voice, hushed and tight with anger. ‘What the hell are you doing out here?’ He followed her gaze up to the tower, and laughed. ‘Fancy your chances, do you? Well, let’s see how you get on.’

The smile disappeared from his face, and suddenly he was dragging her roughly by the arm across the terrace, kicking snow up as he went. ‘Gerry, stop it! What are you doing?’ She tried to resist, but his fury made him even stronger than usual, and the only thing left to her was an appeal to his pride. ‘They’ll hear us, and then what will they think? They’re only over there in the drawing room.’

He turned and slapped her hard across the face. ‘Then shut the fuck up.’

He pulled her on, past the drawing room windows and round to the door of the church. Rachel hoped desperately that he would find it locked, but it opened easily and he shoved her in ahead of him, then closed the door behind them. The moon was the only light on offer and Gerry paused, allowing his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness; once he had got his bearings, he quickly located the tower and she protested in horror as he forced her over to the door. The smell of dust and decay hit her, bringing back the nausea with a renewed intensity. She resisted his efforts to pull her inside and up the steps, clinging to the door frame with every ounce of her strength, but he pulled the door roughly shut, catching her fingers, and she screamed in pain. The sound of her fear 138echoed back off the stone walls, trapped and magnified by the enclosed space, and she began to sob. ‘We’re supposed to race each other, aren’t we?’ Gerry said. ‘I’ll make it easy for you. You go first.’

Rachel stared up into the black nothingness of the tower. ‘I’m not going up there.’