She broke off just then because suddenly a light 12came on inside the lighthouse – a window near the top of the tower was filled with a sickly yellow glow.

Emily let out a cry of alarm, and Will frowned. “What the hell is she doing up there? She’ll break her neck on that rickety staircase. I suppose I’ll just have to go and fetch her after all.” He glanced at Emily. “Wait here if you want.”

“By myself?”

“Well, it’s either that or come with me. Up to you.”

“Fine, I’ll come,” Emily said, swallowing her dread.

Will was already leaving, his boots crunching loudly over the gravel. The lighthouse grew taller and taller the closer they got. Emily was certain the door had been open just a moment ago, but now it was closed again. Will pushed, and it swung forward with a loud creaking of hinges that made Emily jump.

“Kenzie!” he shouted. “Very funny, now let’s go! You’re freaking Emily out.”

There was no response, so Will went inside, and Emily reluctantly followed. A gust of wind blew through, and the door slammed closed behind them, swallowing them up. All was quiet outside.

Exactly fourteen and a half minutes later, the door burst open again, and Emily stumbled outside, 13gasping for breath, barely managing to remain upright. She couldn’t stay in that lighthouse another minute, or even another second, not for anyone. She didn’t look back, or speak, or pause. She didn’t try to break the deafening silence in any way. She just ran as fast as she could, desperate to put as much space as possible between herself and the lighthouse of Bird Rock.

14

15

Chapter One

My dad’s work as an ornithologist took him all over the world, and ever since he and Mum divorced eight years ago, we hardly ever saw him except in the summer holidays. For two weeks a year, he would leave his new family behind in Scotland and deign to spend a fortnight with Rosie and me. He usually booked a hotel in London, and we spent the days traipsing around the city like tourists, visiting museums and doing different escape rooms.

Personally, I’d rather have been hanging out with my friends, but Rosie looked forward to the holiday with Dad all year. Perhaps the difference was that I was fifteen and Rosie was only twelve. I’d enjoyed Dad’s visits too when I was her age, but they felt weird and a bit flat to me now, like we were all 16pretending to be something we weren’t.