She is on the point of telling him. Of blurting out everything that has happened since she came to the cottage: the failing power supply, the way she can influence such things, the vision of the people in the boat, and the terrifying ghost who seems intent on driving her insane. For a moment she is almost seduced by the idea of sharing it all with someone who might listen. Someone who, she senses, would make a good try at understanding the inexplicable. But she can’t. It’s all too much, too crazy, too personal somehow, and she barely knows Dylan.

How well do you have to know a person before you can tell them you’re seeing ghosts? Get a grip, girl. This is ridiculous. Pull it together.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says as calmly as she can. ‘It’s been a difficult time. But I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this.’

‘I don’t mind. If I can help…’

‘I’ve just allowed myself to get spooked. New house. Spending time alone.’ She shakes her head and tries what she hopes looks like a brave smile. ‘You must think I’m barking mad.’ She finishes her coffee, letting the brandy burn a fiery trail to her stomach, letting it numb her whirling mind.

That’s better. Can’t afford to lose it. Not now.

He shrugs. ‘You haven’t given me a reason to think that. And,’ he pauses, then goes on, ‘… it seems like you’re not going to.’

‘I’m sorry. Sorry for screaming like that. Ridiculous.’

‘Something scared you.’

‘Like I said, I’ve just got a case of the jitters. I’ll be better. I’ll be fine. Really.’

He looks at her, regarding her patiently, clearly hoping she will confide in him. But when she says nothing he does not press her further, and she finds she likes him all the more for that. There are some things she finds she does want to tell him about. Some things, or someone. ‘It took me awhile to come to terms with my husband’s death,’ she blurts out, and, realizing how big a subject this is to suddenly present him with, hurries on, ‘I think, sometimes, that’s why I get jittery. Why I overreact. It’s not that I don’t like being here, I do. This is where I want to be. It’s just that…’

‘Go on,’ he says quietly.

‘This is where I was supposed to be with Mat. This was his dream too.’ She falls silent, biting her bottom lip hard, keeping her focus on the bright orange flames on a mossy oak log.