Matt felt a light chill on his back. ‘I dreamed about her, too,’ he said. ‘On Friday night, I had some nightmare where she was waving at me in the distance, like how she waved at that woman in the story.’ He frowned. ‘Why did he even tell us that story anyway, Tim? Was that just some bullshit to distract us or something?’

Matt could hear Tim’s footsteps behind him on the path, slow and regular.

‘I think—’ Tim started, then paused for a moment. His voice was quiet, but it no longer shook. ‘I think he liked to scare people. He’d probably heard the same rumours about the witch that Gary read about online, and I reckon he told us all that extra stuff to keep us on edge. I don’t know how much of it he made up. I remember he used to tell me stories when I was a kid. Bad stories. They used to give me nightmares, too.’

Matt and James didn’t say anything. The clouds above them drifted lazily across the sky, casting pockets of shadow on the purple fields.

‘I don’t remember him being around much when I was little,’ Tim said, breaking the silence. ‘He’d be away for a long time and then suddenly he’d show up again. I’d get back home from school one day and he’d just be there. He’d stay for a few weeks, or six months or maybe a year, and then he’d disappear again. Every time he went away I always prayed each night, before I went to sleep, that he’d be gone for good.’

The boys walked on in silence. Up ahead the clouds parted and the sun broke through, coating the purple heather with a golden tinge. It was James who spoke next.

‘He is now.’

‘What?’

‘Gone for good.’

Tim didn’t respond.

Matt shrugged his backpack higher on his shoulders and didn’t say anything either. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and he was finding it hard to think. He knew he ought to feel sad about Gary and Tom, but for some reason he just felt numb. It was as if there were some huge wall at the back of his mind – a dam like the ones him and James had tried to build when they were little – that was holding all the fear and sadness back. Keeping it trapped in place.

For now, at least.