Standing, Rohenga faced Tom. ‘Already the world begins to heal. Already the darkness recedes. Now the Wildlord acknowledges you, Thomas Swinton. You are a Swinton still. Remember that. Remember the Wildmark. Remember. You know who you are. But you do not know who you may be.’ The sound of war drums began to beat. ‘There is a balance, Thomas Swinton. You can keep it, or you can change it. Remember.’ The Samdhya hissed as one. ‘We will watch, and we will see and know.’ There was a whirling of fur and claw and beak. ‘You must promise, Thomas Swinton. You must promise not to become what you could become.’

A cloud passed over Tom’s mind and he saw himself, ravaged, ancient, powerful, standing in the centre of a whirlwind of gold.

He shook himself out of the vision and grabbed onto Zita for support.

There was nothing but trees and the cut flowers lying limply on the forest floor. The box had gone.

*

That night they played the gramophone, all the records, one after the other, and broke into the port. They feasted on the pasta and tuna and anchovies and pears and plums. Tom unearthed a bottle of very dusty champagne in the cellar. He popped the cork, and they drank it from chipped china mugs. Kit had never tasted champagne before, and he spluttered out the first mouthful. Then they took it with them as they danced through the rooms, the music surging through the walls, swaying and laughing and joking and teasing and pushing each other and stumbling. Leana, disturbed by the unusual activities, slunk away to the sitting room and curled up on the cushions there.

They talked and danced until the sky lightened. Zita, egged on by Tom, did the Charleston and tried to teach Kit, who blushed so deeply Tom thought he might never stop. Though loosened by the port and the champagne, Kit still didn’t speak much; but Tom could see that he felt the same, that the blackness had gone.

At last, near dawn, they fell asleep where they were sitting, in the window seat of Tom’s room, feeling that they could never be torn apart, that nothing could ever come in between them.

Later, Tom woke, feeling a lightness in his limbs. He could see Leana out on the lawn, pottering about after squirrels. He stretched, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun on his face, and remembered a time not long ago when he had also stayed up all night.

He couldn’t quite believe it. Jack was gone. The photograph of his parents was by his bedside; he picked it up and kissed it.