He nods and I’m relieved when he doesn’t push the issue. He takes a moment then asks, ‘Do you want me to let anyone know you’re here? If you give me their number, I can call your foster parents or whoever once I get back to the mainland.’

He’s right. I should let them know where I am; I don’t want them to worry about me. At the same time, I can’t risk them coming out here. Jim and Richard want the best for me, but they’re not going to believe the things I’ve seen. No one would.

‘Can you tell them I’m staying with a friend and I’ve lost my phone?’

‘I guess. I mean, I can if you want, but someone ought to know you’re here. There must be someone you can tell, a friend of the family, a mate, or –’

‘No,’ I snap. ‘There’s no one.’

He looks at me in surprise and a huff escapes me. I know he’s fallen out with his parents because they won’t give him money for his venture, but they’re still paying for him to go to university, they still care. It’s not his fault he’s privileged, but at the same time not everyone grows up with people who are there for them. I don’t have sisters who can help me out in a crisis, or an uncle who can give me a job, or mates who’ll let me sleep on their sofa.

‘You’re telling me you don’t have a single friend?’ he asks.

‘Not any more.’

He goes quiet as if considering this, and then says, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’ He says it like he actually means it and I feel bad for snapping at him. He doesn’t know about Katie and what happened in the care home – how could he?

The silence grows between us, filled only by the distant crash of waves. Eventually the shape of a building emerges from the fog – the schoolhouse or church maybe, it’s hard to tell. We walk towards it when we see something that makes us stop. A group of dark shapes stands further along the track: half a dozen or so people gathered together. They are oddly still, some of them leaning towards one another as if in conversation.

‘I thought the island was deserted,’ says Tom.

His voice is frayed with uncertainty, but it’s nothing compared to the rope of anxiety twisting in my gut. The mist is too thick for me to see how many there are, but what if there are eight of them? Could they be the witches? I slow my pace and Tom strides ahead.

‘Christ. For a minute I thought …’