‘I said,’ he yelled, jabbing the gun into my forehead, ‘DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?’

I nodded my head and said yes, yes I did.

‘You’re to wait in this room until I come and collect you, is that clear?’ he said.

I nodded again.

He stayed with the gun pointed at my head for a moment or two longer then he lowered it, turned on his heel and walked to the door. But as he went to open it he stopped and looked back at me.

‘I suggest you spend this time thinking about what you’ve done,’ he said coldly. ‘Because tonight you’re going to face your greatest test.’

He shut the door behind him and I carried on looking at the smudge on the wall for a couple more moments, trying to sponge his words and their meaning from my head. I tried to think of other things, happy things. I thought about Isobel but then that made me think about the look on her face when she was walking away from the lake, the horror and fear. Thinking about that was making me feel worse and I knew that the only way I could really calm myself was if I wrote it all down, so I went and sat on my doss bag and took this journal out from underneath it.

I should stop writing now but I find that using my hands stops them from shaking, though I know that what I’m writing is probably a load of nonsense and that nobody would be able to understand it if they picked it up and read it. But that’s not the point. This book is for me, not for anyone else, so I’ll carry on writing even though I can hear his footsteps coming down the corridor. I don’t …

19

Lisa

It feels like something evil is in this house, some strange presence playing with my head and setting traps for me. It’s impossible that I could have missed Joe sitting at the table unless he’d ducked underneath it as I turned, but that’s unlikely as I would have sensed him being there. I swear there was just an empty space. He was gone. And what about the shadow in the garden? And last night when Joe thought he saw someone at the window. Though he had no recollection of that this morning. So is it me? Am I losing my mind?

I don’t know what to think any more. All I know is that, after what happened this morning, I had to get out of that house for a while. So now Joe and I are in the car, parked up by the National Trust sign on the outskirts of the village. I’ve put Where the Wild Things Are on for Joe and he’s chattering along merrily to the story. He seems happier now we’re out of the house, less angry and agitated.

I grip the steering wheel and try to gather my thoughts. If only I had somewhere else to go besides that house, somewhere safe where Mark couldn’t find us. But with limited funds even a basic hotel would only be possible for a few days and even then we’d run the risk of prying eyes, people asking questions. The house is our only option but I feel so vulnerable there. If only I could get my phone charged. I’m not going to call anybody but what if there’s an emergency? Having the phone charged would make me feel safer.