I can’t stop. He already thinks I’m crazy; what have I got to lose? Besides, I will burst if I don’t tell someone. ‘Outside just now, I saw a woman’s face in the tree. I think it was one of the Norns.’ I look down at my hands, hating how insane I must sound.

Stig speaks cautiously. ‘Maybe there’s another explanation. People with hypothermia sometimes see things. If you fell, maybe the cold made you …’

I snatch back my hand. Stig reaches to grab it and the sleeve of his jumper brushes my arm. A new wave of guilt washes over me. Stig was so angry with his dad, but then, after he died, he felt guilty for feeling that way. He would give anything to talk to him again.

I speak without thinking. ‘You know, you shouldn’t feel bad about phoning your dad that night. Your mum didn’t make it easy for you to see each other, and you only wanted to spend some time with him. You couldn’t have known he’d crash into a lamp post.’

Stig leaps to his feet, his eyes wide. ‘How did …? I never told you that!’

I pick a stray thread from my sleeve. I had to make him believe me somehow, but what if I’ve made things worse?

‘Martha?’

I point to his jumper.

‘You know all that just from touching my clothes?’

‘I didn’t mean to, but when you pulled me to you just now –’

Stig presses a hand to his head. ‘When you said … I didn’t know. I mean, that’s amazing!’

He perches on the arm of the sofa. ‘What else do you know?’

‘Just how guilty you feel. I could probably feel more of your emotions if I sat with it for longer. I’d say it’s thirty per cent cashmere, seventy per cent wool. I’d have to touch something made from cotton to get more facts.’

Stig looks down at his jeans. ‘Wait, so you’re telling me you get different things from different kinds of material? My jeans might tell you something different to my jumper?’

I nod.

He shakes his head and starts to undo the buttons of his jeans, revealing the tops of his black boxer shorts. I blink in shock.

‘So if I need to keep a secret from you, I’d better get naked!’ He laughs, then does his jeans back up. ‘Seriously, that’s amazing. Like, wow-amazing.’

He takes off one of his black socks and dangles it before me. ‘Here, try this!’

I shove his arm away. ‘No, thanks!’

He sniffs it and winkles his nose. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if that one talked!’

I never thought I would laugh about it, but suddenly it seems so funny. Stig wobbles on the arm of the sofa as he tries to put the sock back on. He laughs so much he nearly falls off.