She’d found a piece of flint on the ground and worked at the ropes binding her wrists until they’d frayed to shreds. Pulling her hands apart, she’d freed her legs too, then lay down again and waited for just the right moment. Fergus, looking into the pit he’d created, would be standing still. He wouldn’t hear her coming as she approached across soft mud, rock in hand. He would turn at the last moment, though. She wanted the bastard to see what was coming to him, and to know it was her delivering it.

She would smash that rock into his skull. It wouldn’t just knock him out, it would crash through his skull into his brains, and she’d be able to see the grey squish of his cells oozing out through his hair. Then she’d kick him down into that hole. He’d land on his back, dying slowly, as she used the shovel – his own shovel – to pile dirt on his face. Some would go into his mouth so she could hear him choking, then he’d try to scream, but his screams would be lost as the earth covered him. His eyes would still be open so he could see her as she shovelled more and more dirt …

The car stopped again. Meggy tried to stay in the moment of the fantasy. No point rejoining the real world now. But a car door slammed, and Fergus’ footsteps were heading towards the boot. She shut her eyes, no desire to look him in the face again. What she saw there frightened her as much as it enraged her.

Reaching in, he grabbed hold of the shovel and an old, thick black jacket. Meggy opened her eyes just a crack. Past him, she could see trees. The ground was grassy, and the smell of rain floated on the air. Birds who had no idea what horrors were occurring beneath their perches were singing. There wasn’t a sound otherwise. No traffic, no voices. Not so much as an aeroplane above them.

He whistled as he planted the shovel in the earth, untroubled by the rain. Earth flew, and the hole at his feet grew longer and deeper.

Meggy wanted to look away but couldn’t. The rain pounded harder into the dirt and the sky darkened as he worked. Finally, he threw the shovel down at his feet and walked away into the shade of the thicker branches, then hauled something along the ground towards the car. Forgetting her previous attempt to play unconscious, Meggy couldn’t help but lift her head. Out of the undergrowth, along the slippery grass, Fergus dragged it. Constructed from pale wood, unmarked but green and mossy, the long wooden box was the end of Meggy’s rational thinking.