Then they were plunged into darkness, and Meredith’s bravado faltered. The woods were silent, a briefly complicit enemy, the stillness only broken by Caitlin’s bubbling breaths and Graeme’s furious curses. For a moment they were caught in a tableau of hunters and prey, although it wasn’t clear who was which. Meredith forced her frozen hands to grip the gun, finger on trigger; the cold iron centre of her world, determiner of who lived and who died.

She heard a rustle, footsteps stealthily approaching in the darkness, the same footsteps that had creaked up her staircase all those years ago and kicked a hole in her door, in her psyche, in her future.

Not this time.

‘FUCK YOU!’ she screamed hoarsely, and fired in the direction of the footsteps. The noise sent sleeping birds flapping skywards in panic, and in the split-second flash from the gun Meredith saw Graeme’s body jerk up as if it wanted to join the birds, before hearing it crash to the leafy floor.

‘Pete,’ Meredith croaked, and heard his whispered, ‘Here,’ in reply.

At that moment, the almost-full moon came out from behind a cloud and cast the scene in shocking, ice-blue light, both Graeme and Caitlin lying motionless, Caitlin’s neck glinting with the blade of the gardening tool still sticking out of it.

‘Jesus,’ Meredith said, dropping to her knees and crawling over to Pete, wrapping her shaking arms around his cold, naked body. ‘I killed them both. Fuck, Pete, I killed them.’

‘You saved us,’ he whispered. ‘You saved us, Mez.’

From somewhere up near the house, they heard a faint shouting – a woman’s voice, drifting on the night air: ‘Meredith! Pete! Meredith! Pete!’

‘Thank God. I think that’s Gemma,’ Meredith mumbled. ‘She must have heard the shot. I can’t shout back. I’m too tired.’ She held on to Pete’s back, wrapping her arms gently around him, not knowing where or what – or how bad – his injuries were.

Another sound superseded the shouting; the whump, whump of helicopter blades, shortly followed by the sweep of a searchlight beam. ‘You won’t need to,’ said Pete, with effort. His voice was becoming fainter. ‘Not sure how much longer…’

‘Don’t say it,’ Meredith said fiercely. ‘You have to hang on. I’m not going through all this to lose you now. Don’t even fucking think about it. Promise me, Pete. They’re coming for us.’

53

Gemma and Emad

Gemma would never forget the sight that greeted her when she and Emad finally reached the spot where the shot had come from. Her chest was heaving and her breath coming in pants as they crashed through the woods, trying to avoid roots and trunks, the light from her and Emad’s phone torches both illuminating and wrong-footing them as the dual beams jogged up and down confusingly.