James thought about masturbating, anything to take his mind off the sound of the wind and the thought of the dark, empty moor opening up on either side of him like some black ocean, but he couldn’t bring himself to in case Gary woke up.

James didn’t even want to imagine how much ribbing he’d get if Gary heard him cracking one out in his sleeping bag. He’d never hear the end of it.

For a long time he lay completely still, staring up at the green canvas of the tent. He was finally starting to drift off, to feel sleep winning out over the whirling thoughts in his head, when he became aware of a subtle change in the sound around him and suddenly realised Gary was no longer breathing in the deep, steady way he had been before.

James rolled over onto his side and saw Gary’s open eyes watching him in the dark.

‘Struggling to get to sleep, Trumper?’

James couldn’t see Gary’s expression in the tent – there wasn’t enough light – but he could tell from Gary’s eyes that his friend was smiling.

‘I’m fine,’ muttered James. It didn’t even sound convincing to him.

Gary blinked in the darkness. ‘You don’t need to worry about anything tonight, mate,’ he said, and for a brief second James thought he was actually being genuine. Then Gary let out a quiet chuckle in the darkness. ‘It’s tomorrow night you want to worry about. Tomorrow and the night after, when we’re out there in the middle of nowhere.’

‘Why don’t you just shut up?’ James whispered.

‘Yep, the next couple of nights will be the big ones,’ Gary continued. ‘Mr Stevens told a good story earlier, but he didn’t even get to the best bit. All those stories the locals tell about Emily Brown nowadays, we didn’t hear anything about that. I read them all in that online forum, though.’

James didn’t say anything. He knew nothing he said would stop Gary now he was in mid-stride. It was easier just to lie there and let him say his piece.

‘Some weird stories in that forum,’ Gary continued. ‘A lot of people link that Brown woman to all the disappearances there have been in the years since. Missing teenagers, missing kids. That whole family that vanished back in the ’50s, or whenever it was. Some people think it was the Brown girl that did it, you see – that she wanders across the moor at night looking for all the people who hurt her, and the ones who didn’t speak up against her killers after she was dead.

‘She never finds them, of course – they’re long gone now – but sometimes she finds others. And they’re the ones that pay for what those villagers did to Emily all those years ago.’