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RUNNING SCARED

W e run out of the village and toward the main road, then take the turning that leads to the south of the island. I have never sailed a ferry, but this is a very small one, it has to be worth a go. At the very least, there might be some equipment on board that I could use to contact the mainland. Try to reach Kitty again. We don’t have to run too much farther to see where the ferry is docked, I remember the wooden pier well.

But there is no ferry there.

I can’t see any boats at all.

There is nothing but the sea.

The frustration I feel is overwhelming. I want to scream at someone but there is nobody to scream at. Then I remember the walkie-talkie, take it from my pocket, and scream into that. Nobody replies. The damn thing doesn’t even crackle. I turn back and start running in the direction we came from.

A lot of the journey is uphill but I don’t stop, even when the steeper parts steal my breath from me. The sun is starting to set and the views on the coast road are spectacular. There is an ever-changing display of pink clouds drifting across a patchy purple sky above the ocean. The first stars have started to appear at the edge of the sky, impatient for the sun to leave, but I don’t stop to enjoy the spectacle. I breathe the sea air, focus on the path, and keep running. Just before we reach the road that leads to the forest, I see a sign for the Standing Stones. I remember something Sandy said about it being the only place on the island where someone once had a mobile phone signal. Given the situation, I think it’s worth a try. We carry on, only stopping when I finally see them: the Standing Stones. The twelve giant stones look like a smaller version of Stonehenge, forming a circle on the top of a grassy hill. They are eerily lit by the setting sun casting long shadows on the ground beneath them. I stop to catch my breath, and read an information board while I do.

The Standing Stones of Amberly are over 5,000 years old. There is much mystery over how and why they are here. Some believe the standing stones are the result of dark magic, and are the remains of twelve witches who were turned to rock. Others insist that standing in the center of the circle can transport people to another time and place.

We invite you to uncover the mystery for yourself.

I would love to be transported to another time and place—ideally the mainland—but I’ve never believed in nonsense. I climb the hill and walk to the center of the circle anyway, just in case, then take out my mobile. I don’t have much battery left but I do have a single bar of signal.

I call Kitty but it goes straight to voicemail.

I hang up and try again but the same thing happens. I start cursing myself for not charging the phone, but there has been no point in doing so for weeks. It’s getting dark, and it’s already very cold, and I’m about to give up when the phone starts to ring in my hand.

When I look at the display it isn’t Kitty calling.

It says THE WIFE .

I accept the call and hold the phone to my ear but I don’t hear Abby’s voice.

All I hear is the sound of the sea before my phone dies.