The voice beside his ear was quiet but urgent. Despite it being pitch-dark in the bedroom, David knew it was Will shaking his shoulder. He dragged himself out of the soundest sleep he’d had since returning home, and pushed himself up. “What’s wrong? What time is it?” “A little past four. Out in the hall—come quick!” He snatched up his dressing-gown and followed, though Will moved too fast for him to keep up, and by the time he was out in the hall Will was nowhere to be seen. As he peered around, blinking, David saw Amelia’s door open on the other side of the gallery. She poked her head out, shielding a candle with one hand. The flickering light and deep shadows made her look like something from a dream. “Davy, what is it?” “Down here!” Will called softly. “She is still breathing, but do we dare move her?” David followed the sound of Will’s voice to the stairway, and Amelia came behind him with the candle “Who is it?” he asked, awake enough to realize that this was no dream.
