‘I don’t know what your intentions are,’ Caldwell said, ‘but I can assure you I’ll fall in with whatever you decide. I’m sure you realize I pose no threat to you. Our misunderstanding earlier – my … hesitation over releasing you – was just a … fleeting loss of nerve. There’s absolutely no reason why we can’t cooperate with each other. I think we should do exactly what you proposed: head for that hostel you spotted. You have my solemn word I won’t try to stop you doing whatever you judge best in the circumstances. It’s not for me to criticize your decisions. You’ve had a lot to contend with and you’ve coped admirably. If we can just discuss the situation rationally, then I’m confident …’

But his confidence was misplaced. They weren’t going to discuss the situation, rationally or irrationally. They weren’t going to discuss anything. Wada had heard enough from him. She collected his empty teacup, washed it and hers in the kitchen, then went back outside and checked for messages on Ohara’s phone.

There were none. That didn’t matter. Erla was on her way. There were no messages for Ohara either. She couldn’t decide whether that was good news or bad before concluding it was probably neither.

Eventually, she went back indoors and sat by the range in the kitchen, ignoring Caldwell’s calls from the bathroom until he finally gave up and fell silent.

And the silence sounded good.

Until it was broken. She couldn’t have said by what. The sound was distant and indistinct: a rumble of some kind. The view from the kitchen window hadn’t altered. Nor the one from the bedroom window on the other side of the passage. Wada walked to the front door, opened it and stepped outside. The wind stirred her hair and whispered in the eaves. There was nothing else, just the blank surrounding moorland. Nothing had changed.

She went back into the house. As she passed the bathroom, Caldwell asked her why she’d gone outside. She ignored him.

Back in the kitchen, she checked the time. Whatever the noise, it was too early to be the sound of Erla’s car approaching.

A few minutes passed. Normality resumed. The waiting began again.

Then sounds came in a rush. Running footsteps approaching the house. A loud crash from the direction of the front door. The sound of wood splintering. Wada jumped up from her chair. There were more footsteps now – inside the house.

Then she heard Caldwell’s tremulous voice.

‘My God. Who … who are you?’

‘Where is Ohara?’ The man spoke English with a Japanese accent.

‘Who?’

‘Stupid to play games with a gun pointing at you.’

‘Maybe … if it wasn’t … I could think more clearly.’ Caldwell sounded frightened. But he was doing his stubborn best to hold himself together.

‘Ohara left you like this?’

‘Er … yes.’