Up in the garden, snow starts to crunch. Kira looks at Romy. Romy looks at her. ‘Let’s go.’

Callum thunders through the arch to find them by the train line. Kira drops her eyes, and inwardly curses. Guilty, it screams. Her heart is as rapid as his angry footsteps. Guilt bleeds through her veins, spidery on her skin. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

For a moment, Callum says nothing. Stepping slowly down the stones, he stops at the bottom. ‘What the actual fuck?’

Sodden with snow, Kira’s feet are intriguing. No; they’re riveting. Utterly sublime.

‘We were just…’ Romy sucks in a breath through her teeth. From the hotel, the cheese melds with bacon, or toast. ‘Going to get lunch?’

Kira’s insides creep and crawl. She could wither, shrivel, return to the ground, hiding like the ostrich of cowardly shrubs. Shame. Shame. Going to get lunch? It even sounded like a question.

If only her brain worked faster. She could have said going for a walk.

‘Going to get lunch,’ Callum repeats. The flatness of his tone could rival Simon Cowell. ‘You run out, saying nothing, leaving the door wide open, and you expect me to believe it’s to go to lunch?’

Yes. No. His hefty boots fill the side of Kira’s vision. Her spirit cringes even more. He’d be stupid to believe them.

‘Yes,’ Romy says. Lifting her chin, she folds her arms, just like she did with Talie. ‘It was spontaneous. Nobody’s perfect.’

Oh, god. Make it stop.

‘Spontaneous, I’ll give you.’ In her lowered vision, Callum shifts his feet, planting himself more firmly. What would she see higher up? Bitterness, anger, hands in his pockets? A stare as pointedly flat as his tone? ‘What escapes me, and I’m sorry for being dim, is the need to go to lunch with all of your things.’

Liars. Guilt. Shame.

No. ‘We thought we should leave.’ Kira looks up.

Rolling her eyes, Romy sighs. ‘I had this,’ she says, in the suggestive mutter that clearly states ‘you’re a fool.’ ‘It was under control.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’ Dragging her eyes to Callum’s, Kira opens her face wide.

A black sensation flickers through her. It’s the type that lasts a second, the type that sways like déjà vu, the type that makes you wish you were stuck inside a dream. This is exactly why she ran, why she left the door open, why she tried to get the train now; this is what she didn’t want to face. Callum’s eyes search her, narrowing, but it looks like a struggle. He’s not only angry; he’s hurt.

‘I’m sorry.’ Kira lowers her bags. They’re evidence, tainted, wrong. ‘We thought it would be easier.’

‘Why?’ He’s quick. ‘I don’t want excuses. Why is taking off easier, other than meaning you miss an argument?’

Kira twists her fingers tight together. ‘You’d get back to normal quicker…’

‘No.’ Callum shakes his head, twisting his expression. He still looks like he wants to stare, betrayed and so confused. ‘We wouldn’t. We’d have been worried. Thinking of what’s out there, we’d have been scared. Neither of you have phones. After what just happened with Jay, anything could have happened to you, too. Did you think about that?’

‘But that’s just it, Callum.’ Kira folds her arms, as defensive as she can be in the wrong. ‘What happened with Jay was not okay. It was far from okay. If your family’s going to be put in danger, and especially children, we shouldn’t be here. Maybe we should have told you, but—’

‘Maybe?’ Half turning away, Callum throws up his hands. ‘Only maybe?’ Openmouthed, he turns back, shaking his head at her. ‘Of all the selfish—and after this morning?’

‘Your mum’s lying, Callum.’ Romy snaps like frost. ‘Wait.’ She frowns. ‘This morning? What did I miss this morning?’

This morning. Kira’s guilt ramps up to live-wire shock. God, she didn’t think at all; he’s not just hurt because they left him behind. He’s not just hurt because they didn’t talk about it. He’s hurt because of what it looks like: sneaking out, heels in hand, abandoning a one-night stand.

‘I…’ Kira takes a halting step. Her voice has almost shrunk from existence. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t—I—I guess I didn’t see it like that.’

‘Clearly.’ For a moment, he holds her gaze. For a moment, she thinks he understands, but, ‘Jesus. You’re impossible.’

Twisting his mouth, he turns away, back toward the chalet. ‘Both of you. I think you’re in the lead, though, unless Romy whips out an atrocity.’

‘Rude.’

Kira ignores her. Digging grooves for her nails in her palms, she swallows. ‘I thought we were being—’

‘Helpful, unselfish, conscientious. Yeah.’ Callum swivels on the balls of his feet. ‘I get it. Go, if you want.’ He gestures at the day, glittering, sprightly, and blue. ‘Leave us behind, even though we said we’d help. It doesn’t matter, does it? Now that I know you’re all right, it’s all good.’ Roughly, he starts up the stones. ‘You’ve clearly got it all figured out.’

Ducking through the arch, he disappears.

Kira stares through the frosted hedge until it starts to blur. Slowly, cold digit by cold digit, she un-crooks her fingers. Bring it back, reel it in. God, this day is hell.

An echo in the quiet, the chalet door slams. Kira starts. Romy is a mirror.

‘I guess we’ve been left out in the cold,’ she says. Shuffling her feet, she blows out her lips. ‘Quite literally. Shit.’

‘Pretty much,’ Kira murmurs, through a distant tunnel. The garden snow is silent. Callum’s smell has gone. ‘Do you think he meant it?’ She turns to Romy. ‘Saying we should leave?’

Romy screws up her face. ‘He’s pissed.’ She squints at the sky, as if scrying for rain. ‘Lovers’ tiffs will do that to you. I think he’ll come around.’ Hands in her back pockets, she starts to wander off. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

Kira narrows her eyes. ‘It was not a lovers’ tiff.’ She watches Romy mooch away, past the old hotel. ‘Where are you planning on going?’

Romy gestures at the icy road. ‘This way, I suppose.’ She lifts her voice, almost over the rise already that slopes down to the field. ‘We don’t know what we’re doing, and the introvert needs alone time. Thinking time, whatever. I’ll see you back here in a while.’ She pauses. ‘And part of it was a tiff.’

Kira almost finds a hint of a smile. ‘Stay away from forests,’ she calls across the snow. ‘And don’t do anything overly mad.’

Beneath two kissing trees, Romy laughs. ‘I’ll save that for when we’re together again.’

She’s out of sight in a matter of seconds. The chaffinch has stopped. The crow has gone. The car park is quiet, and Kira’s alone.

Alone, freezing, and frozen; the feeling has gone from her toes. She can’t be sure she has toes. Bending for the bags, slow and aimless, dull and lost, she looks around. Thinking time, whatever.

Romy has a point. Kicking snow ahead of her, Kira scuffs her way to the train hut. She can’t get the train for almost an hour, and unless she follows Romy, walking leads to the forest. Callum probably meant what he said, so what can she do?

Sit here and brood. Dropping her maltreated bags, she shuffles into a corner of the bench and draws her legs to her chest. Brood? No. Resting her head against the wood, she stares at the pointed roof. Shadows, crevices, a wispy, dead spider. Brooding is for hens and twelve-year-old boys. This is an existential crisis.

Her eyes are closed when the footsteps slap. Go away, she thinks at once, deep in an image of a fire. Its warmth is almost working, and she’s close to having a nap. Cosy-ish, warmish, her mind white noise. Interaction will kill the mockingbird.

‘Kira.’ The voice shakes the nap by the shoulders, instantly quenching the fire. Opening her eyes, she turns to the wall. ‘Kira, what are you doing?’

Her guilt strolls straight back in. ‘Brooding.’ With guilt comes shame, and banding together, they stick their fingers down her throat. ‘Spiralling existentially. Feel free to leave me to it.’

In her peripheral vision, Callum folds his arms. ‘No. What happened to Romy?’

Kira shrugs. ‘Walking.’ Low and thick, her head thuds. Please, just go away. ‘She wanted to think.’

Bit by bit, she turns her head. His expression is close to a caged animal, wary and unsure. Either that, or she’s the wild thing, breaking out of her cage. ‘Why are you here?’ She turns away, back toward the wood. It smells of smoke and must. ‘I mean, I thought you were furious.’

Callum doesn’t reply at once. ‘I was.’

Down the mountain, the train line whines. Kira coils herself tighter. ‘Then are you waiting for the train?’

She’d like him to be. She’s not ready for this.

‘No.’ Callum sighs. ‘Believe it or not, I actually came to find you.’ Ducking under the open doorway, he sits beside her feet. ‘I thought, if you were going to leave, you’d wait for the next train. Logically, you’d be here, and if you weren’t, I don’t know.’ He shrugs half-heartedly. ‘I’d wander.’

He’s just like Romy. It’s obvious, in the way he sits, so careful, so thought through. His anger simmers beneath the surface, at the mess she’s making, and has already made. Her viscous headache throbs. She resists the urge to run. If two people in half a day have felt they have to do this, maybe she needs a spiral. A spiral, a crisis, and a long, hard, proverbial look at herself and all her choices. Something somewhere is going very wrong.

With the effort of steering a ship through a storm, Kira sits up. ‘I’m sorry.’

Tapping a rose on her useless shoe, Callum stares at his knees. ‘Mm-hmm.’

‘I really am.’ Kira shivers. Out of her corner, the air bites. She struggles on. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I’m not’—she tightens her mouth, waving her hand—‘thinking. I can’t. I’m not one of those people in books whose decisions are always right, and you think wow, she’s amazing, what a strong character. I’m just a person, and I don’t know what’s going on.’

He lifts his eyes, and it may be wishful, but he seems just a little less hurt. ‘None of us know what’s going on.’

‘I know, and it’s not an excuse.’ She shivers again, rubbing her arms. ‘And I…’ She falters. Heels in hand, a one-night stand. He has to know she’s not that girl. ‘I didn’t sneak off because I wanted to leave you. I know it looks like I did, but I didn’t.’ She lowers her mouth to her knee. The denim is stiff and cold. ‘I really didn’t.’

Callum’s voice is even. ‘Then what did you want?’

‘What I was trying to say before.’ She fixes her eyes on her shoe. ‘I wanted to protect you, and Jay, and your mum, and the twins. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Most of my decisions seem like good ideas, until I get halfway…’ She trails away. Unbelievably, he’s smirking. ‘What?’

Callum taps her flower, one, two, three. ‘Sorry.’ The smirk twitches higher. ‘I am. I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at your reasons, but I…’

Kira bites her cheek. ‘You what?’

‘Can’t imagine you as a protector.’ Callum meets her eye, and this time, it’s not wishful at all. The hurt and anger are fading. ‘You’re kind of small.’

Light and warm and lingering, he leans in to kiss her. Kira stills. Inside, something blooms. ‘And you’re one of those people in books.’ She pulls back. ‘The guys who say mean things, but sweep it away with romance.’

She rests her cold palm on his cheek. He inhales, and shivers. ‘So I’m a cliché?’

‘Pretty much. And don’t’—light and warm and lingering, Kira kisses him in turn—‘underestimate me. You saw what I did to that door.’

‘Deal.’ Gently, Callum laughs. ‘If you promise me this: next time you get an urge to flee, let me know, and I’ll come. I’d rather do that than go Braveheart. Also, Mum thinks you’ve just gone out to clear your—’

An ugly screech squalls outside, the scream and squeal of metal. Callum’s words break. Kira jerks back. ‘What the hell was that?’

The train. She hadn’t noticed it sliding up, a spaceship-looking thing, but its back end lurks beside the hut. Her heart rate slows to a canter.

‘Lovebirds!’ A chrome door whirs open, and Romy hollers out. Banging her fist on the metal, she beams. ‘Get on! We’re going to lunch.’