He raps sharply on Tom’s door. Lacey is a pace behind him and comes to a halt at his shoulder, leaving Drew to observe from his own doorstep. The evening is closing in around them, light from Tom’s window casting a yellow pool on the ground. An edge of wind ruffles Lacey’s hair and she shivers, hugging her body and rubbing her arms. ‘You can feel it, too? The temperature dropping?’ Gideon looks around, seeing the sun’s afterglow against the horizon and the first hesitant stars begin to flicker overhead. Lacey looks back at Drew. With his hands thrust in the pockets of his jeans and his wild, corkscrew hair, he looks so vulnerable. He shouldn’t be here, she thinks. He ought to be down the pub having a pint, dissecting the last runs of the cricket match. Triss and Audrey have stayed inside, unsure of their role in this sudden development. Lacey can picture Audrey reaching for the wine bottle, draining the last drops. Then Gideon tries the door again, hammering hard this time.
