The jacket reminds me of the bird. I haven’t checked on her. Guiltily, I race back downstairs and throw open the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

The box is still there, covered with a towel, which I peel back. The bird opens one beady eye and stares at me. Then she hops over and tries to peck my hand, letting out an annoyed caw, as though angry at having been abandoned for so long, but simultaneously relieved to have been remembered. I smile, seeing how much stronger she looks than earlier today.

Liam gives me a look when I carry the box out into the kitchen and set it on the table, and mutters something under his breath which I choose to ignore. He’s gathered up the blankets from the living room and is packing them into a plastic bin liner to take with us.

We fill a plastic bottle with water and Liam retrieves the wine bottles from the recycling bin and rinses them before filling them up too, plugging them with the used corks. It’s not enough water, we both know that; not for two days. ‘We’ll have to sneak back here,’ he says, ‘and refill them.’

It’s not a great idea, but we don’t have much choice. I fill a glass from the tap, down it and then drink another whole glass, hydrating myself as much as I can in anticipation of being rationed. My body is still aching from the swim and my stomach is growling painfully. My appetite has chosen the worst possible moment to make a comeback.

I know Liam must be really starving as he’s got a much bigger appetite and hasn’t eaten a thing since this morning.

‘Why the food?’ I ask, shaking my head. ‘I still don’t understand.’

Liam has no answer.

We leave the cottage and hurry out into an already dark and starless night. Liam takes the axe he used to chop up the kitchen chairs. We have the torch, some firelighters and the matches too, but we don’t want to use the torch in case we’re seen, so we make our way in the dark along the beach and into the woods, helped only by the palest strands of moonlight. Because of the glass in Liam’s foot we make slow progress. He has to hobble, leaning on me, and I keep hearing him hiss through his teeth whenever he accidentally puts pressure on the injured part. He’s sweating profusely by the time we make it to the chapel and his lips are white from tightly clamping them shut to stop from whimpering.