I watched her on the beach today as she walked along, pausing now and then to pick up stones, her blonde hair whipping about her slender neck as though it was trying to strangle her. I must admit, the thought made me tingle with something halfway between pleasure and pain.

I thought I caught her looking right at me, and I smile as I recall the fear that flashed across her face for an instant. I breathe in deep. I can still smell that fear, lingering in the air.

If she was an animal, she’d be a bird, soft feathered, fragile boned, easily caught and caged. I smile at the idea. She’s caged right now. Inside the cottage. On the island. There’s no way off. No escape.

Chapter Eight

Day Three

Liam carries the picnic basket that I found in the cupboard under the stairs and I clutch the blanket. We make our way through the forest towards the beach on the northern side of the island where we walked on the first day we arrived. I woke up this morning and in the cold light of day decided I was letting my imagination run far too wild.

‘Do you know what today is?’ Liam asks.

‘Yes,’ I say, smiling at him. ‘August 26th. Our eight-month anniversary.’

It feels longer because we’ve been through so much. I’ve made a special anniversary picnic for us to celebrate: cheese and pickle sandwiches, a chicken salad, and some freshly made shortbread that I cooked up this morning – Liam’s favourite. Liam slipped in two bottles of beer as well, though I only intend to have a sip of mine.

At the beach we set the picnic basket down and lay out the blanket, weighing it down with stones on the corners. It’s another glorious day, though blustery. ‘So much for that boatman’s prediction about the weather,’ Liam laughs. ‘There’s a storm coming,’ he imitates in a thick Scottish brogue.

‘Shall we go for a walk up the beach before we have lunch?’ I ask him.

‘Sure,’ he says, and we stroll along together hand in hand.

‘I wonder if I could swim over to that island,’ Liam says, pointing to a small craggy island no bigger than a tennis court that sits about a hundred metres out from shore.

‘Why would you want to?’ I ask.

He shrugs. ‘Because.’

How could I forget how competitive Liam is, even when there’s no one to compete against? He doesn’t like being told he can’t do something. He takes it as a challenge to go ahead and do it, almost as though he wants to prove that he’s above the law, which I suppose he is in a way.

‘Did you forget what the boatman said about how cold the water is?’ I remind him. ‘And how deep?’