Most nights after dinner, we all congregated in one of the living rooms, normally in the McGaskill’s cottage, as they had a small black and white television. Sometimes Jessica and I played cards or occasionally Scrabble, or we read, or talked or squabbled quietly in the corner. Tonight though, Jessica announced that she was going to bed early and so was I.

"Are you sickening for something?" said her mother, laughing and going to feel her forehead. Jessica jerked away.

"No, I'm just tired."

"You're never tired. What are you planning?"

I felt first a thump of panic and then, almost immediately, a surge of relief. Tell your mother, Jessica, and then she won't let us go - and I won't have to walk up to the hill in the dark, small and scared.

"I'm not planning anything," said Jessica in a scolding sort of voice. She managed not to look at me while she spoke. "I want to read my new book."

"Okay, then. Don't stay up too late. I'll be up at nine thirty and I want that light to be out, understood?"

Jessica nodded, her mouth solemn. I felt a giggle build up in me, despite myself.

"What about you, Maudie?" said Angus. I noticed that his sunburnt nose was peeling. "Are you tired enough for an early night too?"

I shook my head. Jessica glared at me from behind her mother's shoulder. I tried to make a 'calm down' face without the adults noticing.

"I'm a bit tired," I said carefully. "But I want to watch TV for a bit."

Jessica grabbed me out in the corridor when I went to get myself a biscuit. "What did you say that for?" she hissed. "We both have to go to bed early so we can both sneak out."

"I know," I said, shaking off her hand. "But if we'd both gone at the same time they would have known something was up. Come on, Jess, we never want to go to bed normally, do we?"

She looked at me and smiled suddenly. "Alright, you're right. Smarty-pants! But don't really fall asleep, will you? Remember we're meeting at the start of the track at half past eleven."

Again, I felt a little thrill of fear. I didn't want to do this. I was too scared. I watched Jessica’s hand slide around the newel post as she turned the corner. That was the last time I ever saw her.

Jessica needn't have worried that I would fall asleep. I lay in my narrow bed, watching the tree branches outside my window throw their shadows across my bedroom ceiling. My mind would not stop; it threw up a cavalcade of images from the day. My father kissing Mrs. McGaskill. Jessica's shining eyes. The endless field of corn where I'd crouched and wandered for hours. I lay on one side, then another, flipping my pillow in a vain attempt to find a cool patch of cotton. I kept squinting at my watch. I heard Angus come up the stairs at about half past ten and the creak of floorboards as he made his way to the bathroom, and then back down the stairs afterwards. Only an hour to go. My stomach was clenched and my hands were rigid fists beneath the covers.

At eleven fifteen, I got out of bed and began to get dressed. The darkness pressed itself around me but I didn't dare turn on a light. I tried to lace up my plimsolls with shaking fingers and couldn't form the knots - in the end I just shoved the ends of the laces inside the shoe. I fumbled for the torch and made my way over to the door.

The house seemed bigger in the dark. The hallway was endless; it stretched off into near eternity. I inched my way along the floorboards, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I was breathing shallowly but, despite this, my intake of breath seemed to boom around the house, filling the silent rooms with a rush of noise.

The beam of the torch washed over the front door, illuminating my shaking fingers as I reached for the handle.

I got one foot outside, onto the cold stone of the doorstep. The night sky was huge and black and shining coldly with stars. I stood for one frozen moment, with one leg in and one leg outside. Then I retreated inwards, crying quietly. It was just too dark, too quiet, too scary. I pushed the door so that it almost shut and stood with my head against it, my tears dripping on the floor.

It is there that my memory fades out. The picture in my head of the hallway, the open door, the cold night beyond, bleaches out like an over-exposed photograph and there is nothing beyond. Did Angus find me, crying in the hallway? Did I manage to step outside, out into the moonlight? Did I see Jessica, walking up the hill to the stones?

There is nothing left of the memory, not even the faintest, tattered scrap.

Chapter Seventeen

I became aware of an insistent voice and eventually a hand shaking me awake.

"Maudie! Maudie-"

The shaking became more insistent.

Angus was bending over my bed, frowning. When I saw his face, I woke up properly. His skin looked grey and his face was tight, as if his features had been pulled together by an invisible hand.

"What's the matter?"

I struggled to sit up but the bedclothes weighed heavily on me. For once, the sun wasn't shining and, outside, I could hear the faint but insistent patter of raindrops. My bedroom looked grey.

"Maudie, Jessica's missing. She's not in her bed, and we can't find anywhere in the house or the garden. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

"No," I said automatically, not even remembering my panic of the night before. I was still clogged with sleep.

"Are you sure?"

A faint, creeping unease began to seep through me. I remembered what we'd planned and how I'd chickened out. I remembered the hallway, the open door, the blackness beyond. I opened my mouth to confess... and then shut it again.

Angus gave a quick, hard nod. "Alright, Maudie. Can you please get up and dressed as quickly as possible and come downstairs?"

I was already scrambling out of bed and reaching for my dressing gown. Angus paused in the doorway to my room.

"Try not to worry," he said, and managed a smile. I felt the first sharp pang of guilt. “I'm sure she hasn't gone far."

He left the room, leaving the door ajar. I pulled on my dressing gown. I looked at the door and was suddenly swamped by nausea. My stomach clenched and I ran for the bathroom, kicking the half open door wide open.

I vomited for some minutes. When I stood up, my legs felt wobbly. I washed my face, looking at my red eyes in the mirror. Then I went downstairs.

The kitchen seemed full of people when I walked in. In fact, there were five: Angus, Mr. and Mrs. McGaskill, the farmer from next door and a policeman. I stood in the doorway, hanging onto the frame, eyeing his dark blue uniform.

Angus walked quickly to stand beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. From the safety of his side, I looked at Jessica’s mother and flinched. She was pale, her skin almost greyish, rigid with the effort of keeping control. She had her hands clasped in front of her, so tightly her knuckles shone through, chips of bone under translucent skin. Mr. McGaskill looked more desiccated than normal.

"Now, don't worry, Maudie," said Angus. "This policeman just needs to ask you a few questions about Jessica. You don't have to worry; I'll be with you all the time. Just answer his questions as best you can."

The policeman seemed old to me, although he was probably only about thirty-five. He had a receding hairline and the sun had pinked the exposed skin of his forehead.

"Hello, Maudie," he said. "Now, you look like a clever girl, so you can probably tell we're all a bit worried about Jessica. It's not like her to run off, is it? Do you have any idea where she might be?"