She flicked the switch on the kettle – as if a cup of tea was going to settle the tingling in her skin – and began to tidy up the worktops in a half-hearted fashion. There was something in the back of her mind that was nagging at her. Like a word teetering on the tip of your tongue or an itch that seems to move as soon as you scratch it. She filled the sink with hot water and began methodically washing up, staring out into the dark of the garden. A movement on the grass near the hedge startled her. A flash of fur, low to the ground. A fox? And that did it. The niggling thought leaped to the foreground, fully formed and shaped like a rabbit. Gwen dried her hands on her jeans as she went back into the hallway. When she’d found the rabbit, she’d been so intent on burying it, so embarrassed at freaking out in front of Cam and so shaken that she’d picked up the button and pocketed it on autopilot. Some part of her had assumed it had laid in the garden for years, but it had been worrying away at her subconscious.
