I stop mid-stride and rest my hand on the sofa. In the kitchen earlier, when I saw something move outside the window … And in the bathroom, when I saw that creepy face in the mirror … The window and the mirror were both on my left side. Why didn’t I notice that before? The back of my neck prickles. I glance around the cabin and shiver. Whatever the shadows are, they’re in here now.

Stig is leaning against the kitchen counter, his face clouded with concern. I walk over to him, but what can I say that won’t make me sound insane? The room reminds me of the war photos I’ve seen in history lessons, where families were forced to abandon their homes and leave everything: food on the table, a child’s shoe on the floor. I stack the dishes, grateful for something to do.

Thud.

Stig’s head snaps up.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A slow rhythmic noise, regular as a heartbeat. Coming from inside the cabin.

Gandalf wags his tail as if an old friend has come to visit. I glance at the living room and back to Stig. He shakes his head, warning me not to move.

‘Where’s it coming from?’ I hiss.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Stig takes a step then stops, his face pale. In between the knocking is a softer noise, like distant rushing water. I’ve heard the sound before, like it belongs here. Stig’s fingers graze mine and my skin tingles at his touch. I pull away without thinking, then regret it.

The noise continues: a steady rhythmic thump. I follow the sound and find Gandalf sitting outside Mormor’s bedroom door. I swallow, my mouth dry.

Thud-shhh. Thud-shhh. Thud-shhh.

I nudge open the door and Stig reaches in and snaps on the light. We look inside, then at one another. My legs feel weak, but I make myself enter the room. The noise is coming from the huge oak wardrobe. Stig watches wide-eyed as I walk towards it. Holding my breath, I open the door. Next to a rack of clothes is Mormor’s little spinning wheel.

Moving.

I touch it and it stops instantly. The silence that follows is unsettling.

Behind me Stig mutters, ‘Fy faen, det var ekkelt.’

‘What?’

‘I said, that was creepy.’ Stig hovers in the doorway as if afraid something might jump out of the closet. ‘What made it move?’

I inspect the inside of the wardrobe. ‘No idea.’ There’s nothing to fall on the wheel, and even if something did, it shouldn’t have kept moving like that. My voice sounds calm but my stomach is twisting and turning, like a hole is opening up inside me.