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buried under the sea, paralysed by the weight of water pummelling, pummelling, even as the waves brought me closer to shore. I could see the light beyond white crests but couldn’t reach it, too far, so far away. I told myself not to breathe, that breathing would be death, but I couldn’t fight the urge. I sucked in, like breathing through a velvet curtain then swallowing said curtain whole. Too thick, it caught in my throat. Connor grabbed the end and pulled.
    “Breathe, Miranda. You have to breathe.!”
    I sat up choking and grasping at my throat. It was all a
    dream. But Connor’s voice still lingered.
    “I can’t breathe,” I whispered into the night air, taking great
    gulps between words.

    30

Now find me . Connor’s voice stayed with me.   Walk towards
    the shore .

    Barefoot, still in my cotton nightdress, I walked to the sitting room and slipped out through the patio doors. The night was warm and still, no trace of a breeze. The moon hung low over the water. I headed towards it, wood patio slats giving way to soft sand. Waves caressed the shore with a sound as light as a lover’s touch. When I got closer to the water, I turned back to look at the house.
    It was larger than I imagined, too big for one or two people.  An enormous stone mansion that could have come straight out of a film version of   Pride and Prejudice , Mr Darcy’s  Pemberley. He’d said the lab, research facility and dorms were in another building, so why all the space? There was more to  Luke, and this little island retreat, than he’d let on. Suddenly I wondered how he would react to know that I was awake and walking around. Had alarms gone off?  Would he come looking for me? Or was I truly as free to come and go as he’d said I was? I had my doubts.
    I forgot the waves and the beauty of the night and returned to the house. My little suite of rooms didn’t show through the trees, but there were lights on in what looked to be the main part of the house, an enormous central room lined with windows looking out to the sea. The room took a clearer shape as I approached. It was a library, rows of books lining shelves around the room, tables and chairs in the centre. I saw Luke on a ladder, his back to me.
    As I neared a row of stone steps, something beckoned off to the side, and a voice in my head said:   Stay low   . Low? I crouched, an instant reaction, and ducked around the wall. A light in another window caught my gaze. I headed for it and found that it was open. I shimmied across the window sill carefully, the coolness of the stone against my thinly clad

    31

    bottom reminding me I probably should have dressed before  heading out for an adventure. My feet touched down on smooth  tile in a room with steel tables, glass tubes, vials, burners and  sinks. It looked to be some sort of lab, probably where Luke did  some of his more private research. I walked out of a side door  and into a dark corridor.   Find me . Connor’s voice became
    louder, as if perhaps I’d got close.  I opened a door, some sort of  bedroom with an antique canopied bed at the centre. Heavy  velvet linens draped a matching wine-coloured duvet. No sign of  Connor, but there were pictures everywhere.
    A painting of  a lovely woman in a 1970’s -style gown, pink chiffon, graced the wall opposite the bed. There were photos of the same woman under the painting in various poses and outfits, different days, celebrating different black-and-white moments in her life: having a  picnic, walking on the beach, holding a baby and standing under an arch of flowers at what had to be a wedding. She looked a decade older than Luke, who stood beaming at her side, so handsome in black tie.
    She looked familiar somehow, but it took me several stilted heartbeats to figure out why. She could have been me. We looked a lot alike. Had this been her room? What about the baby?   Find me . My attention flew to the door opposite the bed.  Connor.
    I opened the door. No