With the light ebbing from the sky, she dragged herself over to the window and stared out, not seeing. There was the silver line of the path that led through the marsh to the woods and the sea. Her body was a heavy, swollen sack. She could not imagine moving. As she watched the daylight leave the marsh, something white shifted on the horizon. She realised she was watching people along the line of the pine trees. Mesmerised by the movement, she watched the tiny figures disappear out of sight. She was about to turn away when there was another flicker of movement by the woods, much closer now. People – two men – were in front of the pine trees. Something made her keep looking. She never did know why she didn’t just turn away.

*

In the nightmares, words came out of Jack’s mouth.

Playing at spies.

A kid’s game.

I should have told you about Vee.

It’s complicated, Art.

His own voice cut in.

Shut up. Shut up.

Arthur woke, gasping, his body cold and clammy with sweat.

A rapping at the door. ‘What is it, Arthur? You were shouting.’ His mother.

‘Nothing, it’s all right. Just a nightmare.’

In the kitchen, she handed him a cup of tea. He must have slept in. ‘I didn’t like to wake you. You look so tired.’ She reached up to touch his face but he flinched. He couldn’t bear to be touched. All skin felt so slimy and cold. ‘You were shouting in your sleep,’ she said. ‘You were shouting – “Shut up!” Raving. I think the cold’s got to your nerves.’ She talked on and on about the doctor and remedies but he stopped listening.

Then she said, ‘I almost forgot to tell you. A policeman came round this morning, while you were asleep. He was asking about that American you were with. He wouldn’t tell me why. I said he’d have to wait for you to wake up, but you’d be happy to go down to the station to help them. He seemed like a nice sort of young man.’

A chill rippled through him.

It would be easy to open his mouth and say, I killed him. I killed him. I don’t know how. I don’t remember how I did it, but I did. I think I did. He wondered what she would do. But his mouth stayed shut.

He ought to have told someone straight away, when he and Verity had been rescued from the tree. He ought to have said that a man was out there. And yet the lie had already been told by then. He’d told Ver there was no one in the boat and when dawn came there were people, and there was never a moment to say it, to speak the truth. Now it was too late because everyone would wonder why he hadn’t said anything before.