‘Pen!’ Caleb screamed, lunging forwards and pushing her out of the way.

CRACK.

A long, dark nothing, then Penelope’s voice, sweet and anxious in a void. ‘Caleb! Be okay! Be okay! We have to get away from here.’

He became dimly aware that the branch had collapsed, that he’d been struck on the head. But he didn’t have time to think, he could only rub blood from his eyes with the back of his hand, push away the burning branches, and try to get Penelope out of here. A moment he’d live again and again, his whole life becoming about these impressions.

PHOEBE

Penelope wouldn’t testify until first thing Monday morning, right before me. Her words to me echoed so loudly through my head that I could have been broadcasting them. I refused to tell them when I’d be home. And now I’ll never be home. Caleb had drawn Penelope as a pastel phoenix. He could have chosen a butterfly. She was Caleb’s alibi, so far as he had one. It was agony that the weight of his innocence could be carried on such delicate wings.

Caleb was evasive about what he thought she’d say. He clutched another sketchbook, evidence he’d been busy. He’d sketched fires in Brunton and Linlithgow and around a two-storey house whose windows were vaguely visible through the flames. And a car accident. Trails of red, blood and flames. Despite my anxiety, were those sketchbooks something I’d been neglecting?

‘Can I take this home for the weekend?’ I asked.

Caleb flipped the book closed and held it to his chest. ‘I need it.’

‘Jeannie’s coming over.’ She would, if I asked. These sketches, like the Sean the Adventurer ones he had gone back for, had to mean something. ‘You could stay with me again? She might have advice.’

Caleb clutched the book still more tightly.

‘Caleb, I really want to show her. Can I at least take a photo of each page?’ This way, I’d still have something if the police later claimed this sketchbook too.

Caleb scowled. I pulled out my phone and began capturing the images. Was this about a sketchbook or a car accident? A sketchbook and a car accident? And about what Genevieve and I – what I – had done, to save Caleb from the consequences?

Home on my own, Caleb once again at Stephen’s, I came to bed, and stared at the ceiling, gripping my notebook until its spiral binding cut into my palm.

22

22

ALBUNEA, ALSO KNOWN AS THE WHITE SIBYL | Oracle worshipped as a goddess

Consulted by Emperor Augustus, who wanted to have himself worshipped as a God. Albunea foresaw the Empire’s eventual collapse in an apocalypse.

SATURDAY

Jeannie Tillman arrived as invited on Saturday afternoon. ‘I’m glad to get out of Mum’s house. I’m ready to move, even into a caravan,’ she said. ‘It’ll be a relief!’