Page 56

WHEN I WAKE IT’S SUFFOCATINGLY hot. The pillow’s damp and creased. My hair is a wild tangle, like I’ve been thrashing around in my sleep. I only got a couple of hours but my nightmares were wild and dark. I dreamt of the trees, of roots pushing up through buckling floorboards to twist around me and drag me down with them. Soil filling my mouth...

I feel like this place is actually choking me—sapping all my strength and courage. I have to leave its orbit for an hour or so. I stride out on the cliff path only a short while later, the sun floating huge and orange-pink from the horizon and blushing across the limestone stacks of The Giant’s Hand. I can think a little more clearly here with the slight relief of the sea breeze. I gave her a chance to come to me, in the woods. Now it’s time to act.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts by a cackling sound: loud and vicious. It takes me a moment to realize what it is: a flock of black birds—crows, I think—circling overheard. Hundreds of them. Their dark bodies a strange sight, incongruous somehow; I would have expected to see seagulls. For a moment they settle along the edge of the cliff in front of me. And then, as though a signal has been given, there’s an explosion of movement and sound and they’re all taking off, seeming to act as one, croaking and flapping, launching into the air and disappearing in a black swarm around the headland. Westwards, in the direction of The Manor.

I pick up the pace, a touch of foreboding in my gut.

After I’ve climbed down to the beach, I scan the waves quickly, remembering the bright kitesurfing sail that appeared yesterday. I want to make sure I’m alone. Then I force myself to go inside the cave again. I’m here to remind myself. To muster the courage I need. The dark interior is shockingly cold compared to the heat of the morning, but I don’t think that’s why I’m shivering uncontrollably.

I press my forehead against the damp wall of the cave and rest here a moment, let the ghosts of the past envelop me.