‘I know.’ She looks about her; catching sight of the picture of Felix Flynn on the wall. ‘It’s this place, Leon. If there’s a way we can go home—’

‘I agree. I don’t like it here either. I don’t want to stay here any more than you do.’ He takes her in his arms. ‘We’ll call someone,’ he goes on. ‘I promise.’

But as he puts the key into the door of their room and turns it, she knows she’s yet to face the ventriloquist doll once more.

Leon

Leon leads the way into the room, turns on the light, sensing Alice’s tension as she follows him. He wants to talk to her, tell her what he knows about Tegan, what she told him that night in the pub. But now isn’t the right moment. It will have to wait.

‘Oh God. Where is it?’ Alice drops her coat and dress to the floor with a thud.

Leon swings round to see her standing statue-still, eyes wide and watery as she stares at the bed. ‘Alice?’ He’s worried about her. Yes, things have been weird, but it’s more than that, Alice isn’t herself. It’s the possible link this place had to her father too. The sooner they can call the mainland and get off the island, the better. ‘Where’s what?’

Her gaze is fixed on the pillow. The vacant look in her eyes chilling. He runs his hand over his chin, feels the prickle of stubble, the tension in his jaw. Her anxiety is catching.

She finally looks at him, eyes wide. ‘There was a ventriloquist puppet here, and now it’s gone.’

‘What?’ He shudders, the idea making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

‘Maybe it was one of Felix Flynn’s puppets. It was here in our room, before we went outside.’ She runs her hand over the duvet, and up towards the pillow. ‘It was right here, staring at me. And the window was open, as though …’

‘As though what, Alice? You’re officially freaking me out, here.’ He rubs his neck. It aches – whiplash? Tension?

She sits down on the edge of bed, and buries her head in her hands. ‘It was here, Leon, I swear it,’ she says through her fingers. ‘When I came up to get my coat, it was here. But now it’s gone.’

Leon turns on the spot, dragging fingers through his damp hair. ‘There was a puppet in our room?’

She nods. ‘Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it was here on the pillow.’

‘OK.’ He shudders again at the thought. ‘So if what you’re saying is true—’

‘You think I’m lying?’ She looks hurt, her eyes a deep shade of blue.