I gauged my chances of making a run for it there and then, and decided against. Cory had firm hold of my hand, and even if I managed to pull free he could catch me without breaking a sweat. Tantalising lights glimmered across the harbour in increasing number: fishing boats, windows, a bicycle, a couple of cars, a delivery van—but they were too far away to help.

Cory led the way uphill, away from town, on a road that skirted the walls of the Byrne Hall estate and took us into the woods again. It obviously wasn’t a popular thoroughfare: the tarmac was cracked and slippery with moss, and a line of grass grew up the middle, dividing the track in two. Our feet pressed a fresh, green, squelching fragrance from the surface with every step, and I felt my head clearing as we got higher and the trees began to thin. A moment of madness, I kept thinking. What did that mean? Was an act—any act at all—the more forgivable for being momentary and mad?

“It’s nice to get out of the house,” said Cory, swinging my hand. “I think it was starting to drive us out of our minds. It does that.”

I let the remark pass because it felt true, but then I stopped.

“Wait,” I said. “I’m not out of my mind. I didn’t run away because I was out of my mind. I ran away because I discovered your dying mother locked in a poky upstairs room, when you’d told me she was being cared for in a hospice.”

“I know, I know.” He squeezed my hand. “I know how it looks, but it will make sense once I’ve explained.”

“Well, go on then. Explain.”

Cory looked away, as if he hoped to find inspiration among the dwindling trees.

“Let’s walk a bit further,” he said at last, tugging on my arm. “We’ll find somewhere we can sit and talk properly.”

Eventually the road emerged onto a hillside, springy with sheep droppings and cropped grass, and we stopped to catch a breath. Byrne Hall was visible beneath us—or at least the tall chimneys were, and the dilapidated roof with its many gaps and bird droppings and strutting jackdaws.

“How strange,” I said. It was strange, seeing the house from up here. The pristine frontage wasn’t visible at all; you’d think the whole place was derelict.

Cory didn’t ask what I meant; he probably thought I was talking to myself again. Perhaps I was.

Sheep dotted the hills; the sound of their bleating was faint and distant. I traced the road with my eyes as it meandered down to the edge of Stella’s cliffs, and wondered how often anyone came here. The rising sun was hidden by low cloud, and the sea looked leaden. Further down the coast a lighthouse flashed and faded.