Abigail had smiled, though it hadn’t reached her eyes. Her voice was weak and they had to lean close to hear her. ‘Why would I ever want to leave this place? I’m gonna stick around, kids.’ She had attempted a laugh, then eyed the spot where the campground kids had been and shook her head. ‘This place needs to be protected. Just know that whenever you hear the wind stirring the leaves, the lake lapping at the shore, when you trip over a rock . . .’
They had all laughed.
‘That’ll be me.’
Now she was gone, and the woods were silent. The water was silent.
And Crow, Fox and Goat were silent too.
They hadn’t been to the funeral because nobody except Abigail’s husband, Logan, knew she had been their friend. The three of them were aware of the questions that would be asked if they turned up. They all knew, too, that the funeral, a small Baptist ceremony, would have made them sick. It wasn’t what Abigail had wanted or deserved, and she’d only agreed to it because it was what Logan wanted.
‘What do you guys want to do?’ Goat asked after a while, unable to bear the silence any longer.
Fox stood up. ‘I need to get going.’
Crow, who was sitting on a rock, whipped his head towards her. ‘Why? What are you doing?’
‘I’m meeting someone,’ she said.
‘Who?’
She made an exasperated noise. ‘Do I have to tell you everything?’
He found it impossible to argue with her. He was too afraid of upsetting her. Every time he looked at her he felt itchy and nauseous. When he wasn’t with her, he longed to see her, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air when she wasn’t around. But when they were together he was no happier. He found it impossible to act natural; in fact, he had forgotten what natural felt like. He wondered if he was going crazy. Or maybe this was just what love felt like. It was horrible. But there was nothing he could do about it. He wouldn’t be cured until she loved him too.
‘Are you going to drop us, now Abigail’s gone?’ he found himself saying.
She tutted. ‘Don’t be dumb.’
‘Then who are you meeting?’
‘I don’t have to tell you.’
His mouth was running away with itself. ‘I just think it’s disrespectful, is all. We came here to remember Abigail and now—’
‘We’re not even talking!’
‘Then let’s talk. I want to hear about the first time you met her.’
Fox hesitated, looked towards the path. Then she folded her arms and sat back down. ‘Okay.’
Crow smiled to himself. He had won. And as he sat there, listening to Fox talk, Goat joining in, reminiscing about Abigail, something struck him. This group needed a new leader now. And as he thought this, he felt something. The breeze stirring around him. A ripple on the water. The hairs on his arms stood up and he felt something brush against his face.
Fox had been halfway through a sentence about the time they had all gone swimming right here, and the story – which brought back images of Fox in her bathing suit – would normally have captivated him, but now her voice had faded to a background hum.
Fox noticed. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
Goat looked at him too.
Crow could hardly speak. His throat felt too tight. He was, he realised, shaking.
‘She’s here,’ he said.
‘What?’ Fox and Goat said together.
He lifted a trembling hand and pointed towards the trees. Abigail hadn’t been lying. She hadn’t deserted them. Hadn’t left this place. It didn’t matter that her body had gone, that she had been buried in a cemetery miles from here.
Fox and Goat stared, confused. They couldn’t see her. That meant . . . that meant he had been blessed. He was special. Abigail’s chosen one. He also understood that with that blessing came great responsibility. Enormous responsibility.
‘Can’t you see her?’ he asked, as Abigail smiled back at him. ‘She’s right there.’
Chapter 20
There was a knock on the cabin door.
Frankie stood there, head down, wringing her hands. Her hair fell over her face, tangled and wild.
Beside her was Nikki. The woman from the bookstore.
‘I found your daughter wandering around the woods in the dark,’ she said.
Frankie took a step towards me, face still turned to the floor, and I gathered her in, putting my arm around her shoulders. It was a warm night, the air on the doorstep soft and balmy, but she felt like she’d just been taken out of the fridge.