‘What are you doing?’

I spin around, my heart banging in my chest, and find my mum staring at me. I hold her gaze and try to sound casual. ‘Nothing. I was just looking at the symbols on the door.’

She glances behind me then gestures to the kitchen. ‘It’s cold out here. Why don’t you come and get warmed up?’

I nod and wait for her to walk back down the passageway, then press my ear to the door. This time there is only the low moan of the wind outside.

10

I follow her into the kitchen and sit down while she busies herself at the stove.

‘Is milk OK?’ she asks.

‘Milk’s fine, thank you.’

She takes a pan off the stove and pours the liquid into two mugs, then hands one to me. I push the thick, wrinkled skin with my finger then take a sip, enjoying the sweetness. While I drink, my mother takes a casserole dish from the oven and a waft of onions and meat fills the room. She stirs the pot, then slides it back inside and turns to face me.

‘So how long have you known Tom?’

I tighten my fingers around the mug. ‘Nearly a year; we work together at the butterfly centre.’ A stab of regret pierces my heart as I remember that I don’t work there any more. She raises her eyebrows and I add, ‘We’re just friends. We’re not …’ She looks at me blankly and I wonder if she’s asking about him for another reason.

‘I meant what I said before. He hasn’t been infected.’ The word feels ugly and misshapen on my tongue and I gulp some milk, scalding my mouth.

She drops into the chair opposite me and leans across the table. ‘But you have seen the shadows. You’ve seen what they can do?’

‘I think so. A man attacked me at work this morning, and then a woman on the way here. They had this look on their faces. They were staring at me, but it was like they were looking through me. I think the shadows got into the woman’s dog too. It kept shaking itself.’

She glances nervously about the room and nods knowingly, her expression tense. ‘Yes, they can sometimes enter an animal while looking for a human host. With some people it takes longer for the shadows to get inside, but they always find a way.’ She squeezes my arm so hard it hurts. ‘It doesn’t matter how strong the person is, or how much they love you. You can’t trust anyone. Not Tom, not me …’

I pull away from her and she hangs her head. ‘I don’t want to frighten you, but the shadows are still in me and I don’t know if or when …’ She takes a deep breath. ‘If the worst happens, you must do whatever it takes to survive.’

Panic grips me. ‘What are they? What do they want?’

‘I don’t have all the answers. I can only tell you what I’ve seen.’ She exhales and suddenly looks older, her brow furrowed with lines. ‘You have to understand that the island is different; it has a special kind of energy. People have been drawn here since the fifth century, but the saints were mistaken. They thought the place was holy.’ She gives a bitter laugh. ‘The tourists who come in summer don’t know the truth, but the islanders do. They know what happens, but they keep it secret.’