‘Over here.’ Hollie points towards a metal farm gate, the top bar of which is wrapped in barbed wire. Undeterred, she climbs over into a field, waiting for me to join her before heading towards the middle of the thick grass. ‘There’s a back way.’

My head fills with questions, but I don’t ask any of them. Being with Hollie is like how it always was with Dylan – an escape into a world so different from mine that I don’t question anything, just let myself be swept along with her.

At the other side of the field, there’s a post and rail fence, which we slip through.

‘This way.’ Hollie skips through an orchard where most of last year’s apples lie rotting underfoot. As we reach the other side, she stops and gestures dramatically at the stark hedges, beyond which a sweep of lawn slopes uphill towards Deeprose House. Set behind heavy gates and high stone walls, it can’t be seen from the road. ‘Crazy, isn’t it?’ She shakes her head. ‘The Penns have a place like this, but they’re not even here half the time.’

If I had a house like this, I’d never want to leave it. The gardens have a wildness about them, from being untouched, and there are dead flowers and fallen leaves everywhere I look. As I glance towards the house, taking in its cold walls and dark windows, I shiver. ‘We shouldn’t be here, Hollie.’ Gazing at the windows, I imagine someone watching us. ‘If someone’s there, they’ll easily see us.’

She stares. ‘No-one’s home. The Penns are away for three weeks.’

Suddenly, I’m freaked out. ‘Why have we come here?’

But it’s as if someone’s walked over her grave. There’s a look of desolation on Hollie’s face. ‘Let’s go,’ she mumbles, turning back towards the field.

I’ve no desire to change her mind. Spooked by the empty house and the darkening sky, I follow.

*

When we get home, my father’s car is in the drive. Refusing to come in, Hollie runs off up the lane.

Chapter Six

Elise

On the way to Stephanie’s salon on Monday morning, I’m curious to know what she might have heard about Andrew. Villages like ours are hotbeds for gossip, but as she starts on my hair I get the sense that she’s distracted, our conversation stilted until I ask her a direct question.

‘Tell me, Stephanie. Do you like living here?’

‘Like?’ She looks surprised. ‘Of course I do. It’s a lovely place, don’t you think?’ Her words aren’t convincing.

‘No.’ I’ve no reason to lie to her. ‘It’s pretty enough, but it’s too quiet. And I can’t bear the gossip.’ I watch her face in the mirror. ‘Though I suppose as a hairdresser, you’re the agony aunt for all the local villages.’