‘Shit,’ I hiss under my breath, brushing the debris from my palms, sure that beneath the denim of my jeans my knee is skinned. I look up, scanning the woods for any sign of movement, suddenly sure that I will see her, the woman I visualized before standing in the doorway of the cottage. Don’t be ridiculous, Allie. There is a growing sense of foreboding and the air seems to thicken around me, making it difficult to draw breath. There is no sign of movement, no flash of white, but as my gaze comes to rest back on the tree stump, I see the patch of disturbed leaves, as if someone has stood there recently.

Someone was here. I wasn’t imagining it before, and I definitely didn’t imagine it today. They were stood where I am now, a clear line of sight to the house, and to the patch of bent blades of grass where I was kneeling just a short while ago. I turn on the spot, trying to narrow down the path that whoever it was might have taken through the trees to stand here. A flattened shrub to the right, along with a pile of leaves that look as though someone has scuffed through them lures me in and I walk closer, expecting to see further evidence that someone has walked through here, loitered here, something concrete that I can show Rav when I tell him that I wasn’t imagining things. Because I wasn’t imagining things … was I?