Dried off from our swim, and wearing the fluffy grey robes we found in our rooms, Emma and I open a bottle of complimentary wine and curl up on squashy sofas in the garden room. We sit in companionable silence for a few moments while I drink in my surroundings: the dark rain bouncing off the indigo pool, the liquid gold of my wine.

‘What a place,’ Emma says with a yawn. ‘When I got that fake text message, I never for one second thought it would lead to us relaxing in a five-star holiday home. What a mad evening.’

I take a sip of wine, enjoying the burn at the back of my throat. ‘Here’s to my lovely neighbour,’ I say, lifting my glass in a toast.

‘Yeah, massive cheers to your neighbour.’ Emma raises her glass too and then gives me a long look. ‘How are you doing, Lizzy?’

‘How am I doing?’

‘Yeah, you know, after Joe…’

I purse my lips and remember the leaden feeling in my guts. ‘I don’t know how I’m doing, to be honest. It’s all a bit surreal. I wish I could erase Joe from my mind. I wish I’d never met him.’ My voice cracks. ‘And it’s even weirder because of all this other stuff going on.’

Emma nods. ‘I know.’

‘Who do you think it could be?’

She stares out at the floodlit pool for a moment. ‘I know I might be way off base, but you don’t think it could be Joe, do you?’

I give a grim laugh. ‘Believe me, I’ve thought about it. But you didn’t see his reaction when I told him about getting the letters. He went all protective and macho. Whoever it is, he wanted to beat them up. I really don’t think it is him. Although, to be honest, I have no real idea.’

‘Okay. I just thought, because of our history, and the fact that he lied to you for so long. Maybe he’s…’ She tails off.

‘Got a screw loose?’ I inhale deeply. ‘Do you know what, Ems? I’m sick of the whole bloody thing. Shall we make a pact not to talk about Joe or the “S” word while we’re here? Treat this place like it’s a real holiday from our lives out there.’ I use my glass to point to the dark fields beyond the pool.

‘Okay, yes. Good idea. Agreed.’

Emma and I spend the next couple of hours reminiscing about our shared past and catching up on our careers, on funny incidents at work and other non-threatening topics of conversation. We polish off the wine and demolish the complimentary bread, cheese and olives.

‘I wish you didn’t have to go into work tomorrow,’ she says.

‘I know, but I’ll come straight back here afterwards and we can have another fab evening. I’ll pick up some groceries on the way over so we can have something proper to eat.’

‘No, that’s okay. You’re working. I’ll nip out and get some stuff during the day.’

‘Thanks, Ems. I’m so happy we’re friends again. It’s weird, but it feels like we were never not friends. Almost like it never happened.’

She shrugs, and I see a shadow flit across her features.

‘Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Of course it happened. And it was my fault for letting it happen.’

‘Let’s not rake over it all again,’ Emma says. ‘I’m just nipping to the loo.’ She gets to her feet and leaves the garden room. The rain has eased a little, the thunder now a distant rumble from another village. I’m tired and a little drunk and I think I need to go to bed, especially as I have to get up early tomorrow. I close my eyes, but I mustn’t fall asleep here. I need to brush my teeth and take my make-up off. I need to take advantage of that lovely big bed upstairs.

---

I wake to a strange, dull, clanking sound. Like metal on concrete. It’s pitch-black and everything feels strange. Then I remember, I’m in the holiday house. I fell asleep on the sofa. Emma woke me up, and helped me stagger into my beautiful bedroom with its French-style furniture and floral bedspread.

What is that noise? My head thumps along with the weird banging from outside. I drank far too much wine last night; I’m not used to it. I reach out to the side, hoping my fingers will alight upon a bedside light. After a few seconds of finding nothing, bingo. I locate the switch, turn it on and blink my eyes open in the soft light.

My phone says it’s 2.45 a.m. What the hell is going on out there? Maybe the house is next to a farm and it’s some weird machinery making that noise. But come on, at this time of the morning? And anyway, the clanking sounds closer than that. Like it’s emanating from the back of the house… by the pool. My skin tightens and the hairs stand up on my bare arms. I sit up, suddenly wide awake, my senses on high alert. Could it be Emma out there? No. What would she be doing at this time of night? I slide out of bed and scrabble about in my case for something to wear. I throw a cotton dress over my head and pad out onto the landing. The noise is definitely louder out here.

Emma’s room is next to mine, but her door is closed. I wonder, should I knock? Or should I just tiptoe in? Maybe I should leave her sleeping and go to investigate the noise myself. But I’m scared. It’s dark outside. I don’t even remember locking up last night. Did we leave any of the doors open?

The clanking noise stops. I freeze and cock my ear.

What if that means whoever was making the noise is already inside the house?

With a dry mouth and shaking knees, I open my sister’s door and creep into her room. I daren’t turn on her light in case we have an intruder and they see the sudden brightness.

‘Emma!’ I hiss. ‘Emma, wake up!’ Is she even in here? Maybe it is her downstairs. But goodness knows what she’s doing if it is. Maybe she’s sleepwalking. I bash my shin into the end of the bed and swear under my breath.

A moan comes from the bed.

‘Emma?’ I say, a little louder this time.

Another unintelligible mumble. And then, ‘Lizzy? Is that you? What’s the matter?’ Her voice is thick with sleep and confusion.

‘I think there’s someone outside.’

‘What? Are you sure?’

‘No, but I heard a weird noise out there, and now it’s gone quiet.’ I make out the dark shape of my sister sitting up in bed.

‘Probably foxes.’

‘I don’t think so. It was loud. It sounded… metallic.’

‘Okay, give me a sec to wake up.’ She stretches noisily and I shush her.

‘There might be someone inside the house,’ I warn.

‘Shit. Really? Do you think so?’ Now she sounds properly wide awake. The bed creaks as she gets out and takes my hand. I grip it tightly.

Out on the landing, I notice she’s wearing the nightshirt I lent her, but it swamps her slender frame. The lamp from my bedroom gives us just enough light to see by as we make our way cautiously down the carpeted stairs. We stop and I stifle a squeal at a sudden noise from outside. It sounds like a piece of patio furniture being dragged across the ground.

‘Okay, there’s definitely someone out there,’ I whisper.

‘Ya think?’ Emma replies, her sarcasm trying to cover up her fear.

We head across the hall through the dark kitchen and over to the garden room, our tiptoes as light as dandelion seeds. The house no longer feels like a safe hideaway or a sanctuary. It’s too big, too strange and unfamiliar. I realise too late – it’s too remote. I want to be at home in my little cottage.

The garden room doors are wide open, creaking back and forth in the breeze. The rain has stopped, but the air is cool and damp. The pool area beyond is in darkness.

‘Did you close those doors before we went to bed?’ I whisper to Emma.

‘Yes, I bloody did. Someone’s opened them.’

‘Shall we just run?’ I suggest. ‘Go back to our cars and get the hell out of here?’

‘Good idea,’ Emma says, pulling me back. ‘Have you got your phone?’

I grimace. ‘No. Left it upstairs.’

‘Leave it. Let’s just go.’

‘My car keys are upstairs too.’

‘Fuck, so are mine.’

My eyes are becoming accustomed to the gloom, and out through the doors, I spy a dark shape moving beyond the pool. ‘Emma,’ I hiss.

‘I see,’ she says.

We’re frozen in place, rooted to the spot in the garden room, staring outside. I think about running into the kitchen and grabbing a knife. But my legs won’t move, and I can’t leave Emma.

Around the side of the pool, a shadowy figure is walking towards us.

Slowly, deliberately, someone is heading our way.