‘Please don’t get in,’ she whined.

‘Do what you’re told. Every word,’ Connie snapped at her. ‘Quickly.’

Meggy flashed a look at her that was venomous, her pain inflamed by Connie’s cruelty, but the girl seemed to wake up.

Keeping her eyes on Elspeth as she climbed in, Connie saw the fractional rise and fall of her chest and knew she was doing the right thing to keep the woman and girl safe. She allowed Fergus/Harris to climb in next to her, his body pressed tight against hers, his rotten breath infiltrating her air space. She lay on her right-hand side, he on his left, their hair swirling in the half-inch of water, their faces awash with rain, their clothes – had she been able to note their colour – shades of brown, the earth already in the process of claiming them.

‘Put the lid back on the coffin. I want to hear you jump on it, then kick the mud on top of it again. It has to be sealed tight, do you hear?’ Fergus instructed.

Meggy remained where she was, glaring.

‘If you don’t, I’m coming back out to get you. It’ll be you in here, drowning, suffocating. You’ll die like she died. You want me to put you back in this coffin?’ he growled.

Meggy glanced at Elspeth, looked to Connie, who gave a small silent nod. The girl crawled towards the open grave, hauling the coffin lid towards them, biting her trembling lip as she went.

Connie took a long last look at the furious sky, already crying for her. It was dark, but not as dark as things were about to get. She became aware of everything. The chill of the water beneath her, the grit of the earth seeping into her clothes, the closeness of Fergus’ hands to her body, the small sounds of Meggy’s exhausted breaths as she pulled the coffin lid in place. The disappearing light, pale grey, mid grey, dark grey, as wood scraped across wood.

And the world disappeared.

Chapter Forty-One

Connie’s fists were curled at her sides. Panic had crawled into the box with her, and she had to fight that before she could even contemplate battling with Fergus. Feet landed heavily on the lid on the coffin. Connie felt a moment of joyous hope when she thought the girl might just come crashing through, splintering the lid beyond use and destroying Fergus’ plans.

How much oxygen did they have? Not much for two adults, and Fergus wasn’t just breathing heavily, he was panting hard.

‘What’s that word? When you’re passing from one world to the next, like a holy experience … I can’t think,’ he said, his voice booming in the wooden walls.

The first thud of earth landing on the coffin lid came from above, and Connie’s heart hammered in her chest with the volume and persistence of an MRI machine.