He stands by the sea, his eyes flicking over the distant coastline. It’s mainly in darkness, lights dotted here and there. It’s about a mile to the mainland. Not far. The sea is choppy and restless, but it’s doable. He swam the English Channel for charity a few years back. This short distance will only take half an hour at most. He’ll be there and back with help within the hour.

He hates how upset Alice is. But if she stays in the room with Faith and Christine – keeps the door locked, bolted – she’ll be safe. Won’t she?

He strips down to his boxers and T-shirt, his eyes drifting towards the rocks where they found Alice’s dress. He squints, returns his gaze to the shoreline, trying to focus on his imminent swim. He dips his toe into the frothy waves that beat a path up the rocks and cobbles.

‘Shit!’ The sea is bloody freezing.

Goose pimples rise on his arms, and a chill shudders down his back. He takes a deep breath, about to wade in, when he hears someone coming up behind him. He swings round, his eyes zigzagging across the darkness, dipping into the shadows. There’s nobody here.

‘Man up,’ he tells himself, turning back to the sea, making his way in, the freezing water covering his ankles. You’re imagining things.

The strike on the back of his head is excruciating. The sea rises up to greet him within seconds. Water seeps into his nose, his mouth.

‘Christ,’ he mumbles, before everything goes black.

Alice

Alice wakes with a start, beads of sweat on her forehead, unsure how long she’s been asleep. She rubs her gritty eyes, hauls herself to her feet, the book she was attempting to read earlier landing with a thud face down on the floor. She listens, her body trembling. The house is deathly quiet.

A scan of the room tells her Christine and Faith have gone. She looks towards the open door, ventures across the floor, hands pressed against her chest, heart pounding.

‘Hello!’ she calls, poking her head out into the hallway to the left, to the right. The glow from inside the room casts shadows, but it’s too dark to see clearly – the wall lights on the landing are out. A shiver tickles her spine. ‘Faith? Christine?’

She stands for a moment; they’d agreed to stay in the room until Leon could get help, hadn’t they? Why have they taken off without waking her?

‘Faith? Christine?’ she calls once more.

Despite a voice in her head crying out for her to go back in the room, lock the door, slide across the bolt, she steps out, and heads towards the staircase, her heart thudding.

Someone’s there, at the foot of the stairs, propped against the banister, legs twisted out of shape – so still.