‘Down the next hill, head for the far side of that field,’ Meredith heard Graeme mutter to Caitlin.

Right, she thought. By her reckoning the far boundary of the Minstead Estate was at least another five minutes’ walk. Graeme had obviously done his homework. Meredith felt her newfound survival instinct wobble. It couldn’t be more remote. If Caitlin shot them, cleared the pool house of their clothes and left their bodies by the fence down there, it could be weeks before they were found.

But that’s not going to happen, she thought, gritting her teeth, welcoming the pain in her toe as a sharp stone pierced it. There’d be nothing to fear anymore, because if she survived, it would mean that Caitlin and Graeme would either be dead – Meredith’s preferred option – or back in prison.

She, Meredith, would finally be free.

If – when – she survived this, everything would change. No more paranoid hiding away, pretending to be someone else, moaning to herself about being lonely. She’d travel. Cambodia, Vietnam, Australia – she hadn’t even been on a plane since the days of touring with the band. Maybe even try and meet someone, have a relationship finally…

As she limped along, she felt the hard moulded plastic of the knife’s handle in her armpit, reminding her that she had to seize her moment, and soon.

How to do it? Think, Meredith.

Caitlin. She had to go for Caitlin, get the gun off her, before Graeme had time to react and pile in. It would be two against one, because Pete wouldn’t be able to help.

Pete was staggering along next to her like a zombie, worryingly glassy-eyed and silent, just the rasp of his laboured breath and the fact that he was still just about upright convincing her that he was still with them. His arm hung at a weird angle away from his body.

‘Stay with me, Pete,’ she muttered.

‘Shut it,’ snapped Caitlin.

The moon suddenly came out from behind a cloud, illuminating them in a chiaroscuro of shadow-dappled branches. Meredith had a flash of an image – a pencil drawing of two naked children, a boy and a girl, hand in hand, walking into woods that welcomed them and whispered encouragements in the breeze lifting the leaves. Minstead was embracing all the ghosts of everyone who’d ever loved the place like she did.

Graeme and Caitlin were still behind them, the torch illuminating their own feet but not Meredith and Pete’s – but this was good. It meant that Meredith could discreetly pluck the penknife tool out of her armpit and flip it open. She turned to try and catch Pete’s eye, and to her astonishment, he flashed a stare back, first at her and then down at the knife, his focus sharpened for the first time since she’d seen him curled up on the pool’s tiled floor.