Gilly finished the last of her chips and jammed the box into the overflowing rubbish bin at the bottom of the hill. She missed the act of eating already, could easily have finished another box of the same and probably another still after that. She licked the grease from her fingers and then stuck her hands in her pockets as she made for the back gate of Corner Cottage and the shed where she’d been camping out for the past week.

Since she’d been staying there, she’d learned how best to use the space and its few available comforts – the two old gardener’s kneeling pads, some weed matting, Ezra’s thick coat. Gilly curled up like a dormouse, one pad under her to cushion her bony hip against the floor, the other becoming a dusty pillow. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was better than that useless tent, even though there was that leak right at the back of the shed that dripped when the rain was really heavy. She did wish she still had the sleeping bag, though. She’d gone back for it one night with the help of Ezra’s torch, but it had gone, all sign of her little camp scrubbed clean from the forest aside from a couple of bent branches and a flattened square of undergrowth.

Tonight when she got to the gate, though, she hesitated. The back room of the cottage was lit up, a bright glare spilling out of the big windows and over the patio slabs at the bottom of the otherwise dark garden. Gilly could see right in to the long table with the weird metal contraption that was in the middle of the space as well as the work surfaces that ran around the outside of the room, the big white Belfast sink and drainer that was sunk into one. Gilly had always assumed the room was a kitchen or a conservatory, but she’d never looked that closely before. She’d only cared about whether or not the woman could see her through the glass, and whether she would come out into the garden. She had no interest in the house itself.

Gilly hesitated, lurking in the shadows that shrouded the gate. The room was empty, but for how long? The woman was obviously in the middle of doing something, although what Gilly couldn’t imagine. There were fat pillars of candles burning with a yellow glow dotted about the work surfaces at the edge of the room. A half-empty bottle of red wine stood next to a half-full wine glass beside the sink. Gilly could hear music playing. On the long table were several blocks of wood. One literally looked like a slice taken from a tree trunk.

Could she make it to the shed and close the door behind her before the woman came back into the room? Gilly hesitated for another minute, then pulled off her rucksack and the jacket, turning it inside out before she balled it up in her arms so that the darker lining disguised the light tan colour of its outer layer. She opened the gate and slipped quickly through, had almost made it to the shed door when a figure appeared in the lit room below, the woman returning. Gilly froze and ducked down behind the nearest bush – so near but so far. Would Edie be able to see her if she went for the shed now? The light inside was so bright, and out here was so dark, so maybe not. Gilly wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t risk it. The action of her opening and closing the shed could easily attract attention. Gilly didn’t dare back out of the gate, either. With a silent curse, she realized that she was stuck where she was until the woman decided to give up whatever she was doing for the night.