Mel went to the mantelpiece and looked at the note again. No time on it. No clue as to which direction they’d gone. She checked her watch. Ten past nine. Her jaw worked from side to side as she stared at the note, wondering what to do; unwilling to just sit there, waiting. She tried ringing Luke again, but when it went to voicemail, panic started to whisper in her ear that something was very wrong. Snatching up her car keys, she headed outside, her wellingtons slapping against her legs, in too much of a rush to find any other shoes to change into.

She backed out of the drive and decided she’d head left, towards Hawkshead, given that she’d driven in from the other direction and if they’d been walking that way she would have passed them. She drove slowly, her headlights on full beam, scanning the sides of the road. There was no pavement, just stone walls and trees and she followed the road through Hawkshead, all the way to Windermere. Then she turned around and retraced her route until the road branched, taking her to Coniston. She passed very few other vehicles and definitely no people walking. The wind had whipped up now, thrashing through the trees, splattering squally showers against the windscreen with a sudden force that made her clutch at the steering wheel as she struggled to see the road through the deluge.

The knot of nerves tightened in her belly.

Luke wouldn’t let them be out in this.

He was an accomplished outdoors person, having grown up on a farm in the mountains of Snowdonia and then, when he’d been in the forces, been trained in survival techniques. He would never put the children at risk. Of that she was sure.

They’ll be safe and warm somewhere, she decided, and headed back to the house. Maybe they’d crossed paths and had already returned. Her heart was racing now, her palms clammy as she hurried down unfamiliar roads.

She dashed inside, but could feel by the stillness, the eerie silence, that they weren’t there. It didn’t stop her calling their names, hoping to hear a reply. She left another message on his phone, desperation in her voice as she asked him to ring her.

Her hand went to her forehead as she paced in front of the fire. If they’d been caught out by the weather, or got lost even, maybe they were in a pub somewhere? That was a possibility, wasn’t it? She looked on her phone and located the pubs within a ten-mile radius, then started ringing them one by one, her heart pounding in her chest as each person she spoke to said they definitely hadn’t seen them and apologised for not being helpful, taking her number just in case.

She sat on the sofa, rocking backwards and forwards, chewing her lip so hard she could taste the blood. Her mind was crammed to bursting with possibilities, all of them worrying, making her uncertain what to do next.

Perhaps they’d had an accident and were in hospital? Her heart squeezed at the thought, but it made perfect sense. He’d have his phone switched off in hospital, wouldn’t he? Holding her breath, her fingers flashed over her screen as she found the nearest hospital, and waited while somebody answered. No, they hadn’t been admitted and weren’t waiting in A & E, she was told. Which was a relief in one way, but not in another; at least if they’d been there they would have been safe.

Rain lashed against the windows, the wind humming down the chimney, making the flames flutter in the stove as the storm raged outside.

She closed her eyes, unable to imagine what might happen if they’d been caught outside in this weather. They’d be hypothermic in no time.

Mountain Rescue. Her eyes snapped open. That’s it!

She dialled the emergency services, her heart galloping, sure now that this was her only hope.

‘Hello? Police? My husband and our children. They’re gone,’ she said as soon as the phone was answered. ‘Please help me. I don’t know where they are.’ Her voice cracked and the tears she’d been holding at bay shook through her body.

The operator soothed her until she was able to speak again and then took the basic details.

‘I understand that you’re worried,’ she said when Mel had finished. ‘But the kids are with their dad. Hopefully he’s just not got a signal, and they’re all okay.’

‘This is an emergency,’ Mel said, disbelief rattling round her head. Is nobody going to help me find them? She swallowed the fear that bubbled up her throat and tried to tone down the shrillness in her voice. ‘We’re talking about people who’ve gone out hiking and not come back. That’s what we’re talking about.’

‘I appreciate that, and what I’m going to do now is put you through to Mountain Rescue. They’ll ask you for more information.’

Mel waited while the call was transferred. Her fingers drummed on the arm of the sofa. She looked at her watch again. Five past ten. Had she left it too late? Should she have rung straight away and then gone out looking for them?

A voice answered, jerking her from her thoughts, and she gabbled her story to the woman on the line in one long, turbulent sentence.

‘Can you be as precise as you can with the location, please?’ the woman said.

‘I’m in Satterthwaite. Grizedale Forest area. I can’t think of the names of the other villages near here. I’m sorry. It’s all new…’ Mel stopped herself and took a deep breath, panic snatching at her words. ‘We’re staying in Dove Cottage.’ Mel’s body was trembling now, although the house had warmed up nicely. Things were getting serious. ‘I arrived today. This evening. And I found a note saying my family had gone out hiking. I’ve tried ringing my husband, but it just goes to voicemail.’

‘Can you give me a grid reference?’

‘A what?’

‘A grid reference, for the trail they’re on. Or do you know the name of the trail or what time they set off?’

‘What? No…’ Mel tugged at her hair. ‘No, the note didn’t say. I honestly have no idea where they went.’ Mel was silent for a moment, her brain frozen with the idea that nothing was going to happen if she couldn’t come up with a grid reference. She barely even knew what that was, never mind how to produce it. ‘Can’t you just come and look round here? Round the cottage?’

She could hear the clicking of keys on a keyboard before the woman came back on the line. ‘Yes, that’s no problem, we can use the cottage as a start point. It’s just the more information we have the better.’ She heard the woman take a breath. ‘Now, I’m sure you’ve thought of this, but could they have gone to a pub and are going to be late back? Could it be something like that?’

‘I’ve rung all the ones in a ten-mile radius and nobody has seen them.’ Mel started chewing a nail, then stopped when she remembered it was acrylic. No more nail chewing for her. It didn’t go with her profession. You couldn’t have people who chewed their nails telling you how to keep calm in difficult situations. She grabbed a lock of hair instead, curled it round her finger. ‘I’ve just got here. I told you. And there’s a note.’ Mel’s voice was rising, getting more strident. ‘And they aren’t back and it’s been dark for hours.’

‘And they didn’t take a car?’

‘No, the car’s still in the driveway.’

‘So, they’re probably within a four- to five-mile radius of Satterthwaite, given the ages of the children. Ten and nine you say?’

‘Yes, yes, that’s right.’

‘And this is out of character, would you say? To not be back on time?’

Mel had to think about that. ‘Totally out of character,’ she said, which was possibly a lie.

‘Okay, the team are on their way. It’ll take half an hour or so to get them together. And if your family turn up in the meantime, then you will let me know, won’t you? All these people are volunteers, you see. Most of them have got work in the morning.’

‘Yes, yes, I’ll definitely do that.’ There was a quiver in Mel’s voice. ‘Please hurry.’

She put the phone down on the sofa and wiped her hands over her face, not sure what to think because one of the woman’s questions had touched a raw place in Mel’s heart. This was not such an unusual occurrence. Luke and the kids did go out and not come back when she expected them. She’d given up trying to ring him on these occasions, because, as he’d told her several times, if they were nature watching he had to turn off his phone so the noise didn’t cause a disturbance. And then there were the times when he went up to the farm to see his family, when he would ring her at ten o’clock and say they were staying over, having left her fretting at home on her own.

She hated being left on her own, not knowing what was going on.

Mind you, it wasn’t that she was bothered about going to see his family, because they were an odd bunch up at that huge old farmhouse. Freezing, it was, at this time of year, and everyone wore several layers of clothing indoors, even hats and scarves. Smelly, too. Quite a strange mixture of aromas; herbal incense and a whole range of different sorts of shit. Cows, sheep, pigs, horses and chickens. They kept them all and inevitably muck came in on the boots, which were kicked off in the hallway. She shuddered at the memory and remembered gagging the first time she’d walked into the house. So… grubby. Yes, she’d have to say the place was grubby. Nobody did any dusting, that was for sure; the windows were practically opaque and the floors always looked like they could do with a good mop. But then they would, with a pack of dogs and several pairs of muddy boots in and out all the time.

The family farmhouse was way up in the mountains, miles away from anywhere, at the end of a valley between Caernarfon and Porthmadog. A difficult place to grow up, Luke had said, especially when he reached his teenage years. She could only try to imagine how frustrated he must have been, not being able to meet up with his mates when he wanted to, always reliant on someone giving him a lift. You’d feel powerless in that situation, she thought, and she’d often wondered if that was the root of his troubles, where all the anger came from.

His family unnerved her, with their silences and sideways glances, so she was happy not to have to be anywhere near them. No, it was the fact that Luke just abandoned her at times that hurt.

But he always let her know. Always.

A knock at the door brought her back to the present.

They’re missing.

My family.