Tim, who had been watching the exchange between Matt and his father with a growing sense of dread, felt a sudden flicker of hope. Matt was clearly sharper than his father had given him credit for. He glanced at Mr Stevens, and saw without much surprise that the old crocodile smile was now covering his father’s face. Mr Stevens lowered his voice but kept his smile fixed.

‘Keep your voice down, please,’ he said. ‘Your friend over there is upset, and I don’t want him to know how far we’ve got to go. The fact is it’s going to be a struggle, you’re right, but if we make good time we will be able to get there. And it’s the best chance we’ve got of finding your friends.’ Mr Stevens paused. ‘You wouldn’t want to be responsible if we were to waste time looking here, find nothing and then get ourselves caught in the storm with no way of getting help until tomorrow, would you?’

Matt didn’t say anything for a while. He was staring down at his feet, biting his lip, and for a moment Tim thought he might be getting ready to disagree with Mr Stevens. He felt another brief flare of hope, which immediately guttered out when Matt looked up and shook his head.

‘Okay, let’s get moving,’ Matt mumbled.

Mr Stevens nodded, stuffed the map in his bag, and hoisted the pack onto his back. Matt went over to James and helped the boy up to his feet. James wiped his eyes and his nose as Matt whispered something to him, and then they turned and watched as Mr Stevens looked at his watch again.

‘Right, this way boys,’ he said. ‘Matthew, if you lead the way down this path here and you follow him, James, then Timothy and I will bring up the rear.’ He paused and looked at them all. ‘We’ll get help and get everyone back safely, I promise.’

Matt took James by the arm and led him down the path that Mr Stevens was pointing to, out of the clearing. As they disappeared around the corner, Mr Stevens turned and winked at his son.

Tim nodded.

As his father turned and walked ahead of him out of the clearing, Tim thought once more about the rock by the river.

2015

Friday, Part One

When the horn beeps outside his house on Friday morning, he’s already prepared. He says goodbye to his mum, hoists his rucksack onto his back, and carries his other bag – the important bag – over his shoulder.

Then he steps out the front door.

It’s a clear, warm day, and he’s glad he’s only wearing his Helly Hansen base layer. He walks down the garden path and sees the familiar Peugeot 206, idling on the gravel pull-in just outside his front gate.