The clouds were turning pink as she climbed out of the pool and crossed to the outdoor shower, where the smell of shampoo mixed with the seaweedy breeze. Beyond the pool, the ocean spread its own shade of blue and melted into the sky.

“Emily,” a voice called. “Dinner’s ready!”

She squeezed the water from her hair. “Coming!”

* * *

“Sebastien has settled in well, don’t you think?” said Nina.

“I do,” Emily said, nodding as she bent down to pick up a few stray cups and saucers from the driveway, the forgotten remnants of an impromptu tea party. “He seems very happy.”

They were returning from the sheds after tucking the animals in for the night; Aurelia usually liked to help but it had been a long day and, despite a great deal of protesting, Nina had insisted on an early bedtime. The chickens were all in their coop, the rabbits in their hutch, and the goats in their shed, the door firmly locked and bolted several times. (While they looked docile enough, the goats were secret prison-breaking masterminds. Emily had no idea how they did it, but after a few ridiculous Keystone Cop chases around the property, she’d decided that no security measures were too drastic.)

Sebastien the pony, the latest addition to the ever-expanding farmyard, had arrived just days before, and he appeared to like his new house very much—as well he should. Yves had built all the animal shelters, and he’d done a particularly good job with the new stable. The addition to Emily’s jobs list of mucking out horse poo was not a welcome one, but she’d managed quite well today, and Sebastien really was gorgeous. She’d never been much of an animal lover before, but Nina was converting her.

Emily waved her hand back and forth in front of her face as they walked, trying to generate a breeze. The day had been sticky and soupy, and the evening brought little relief. The charcuterie, bread, and salad they’d eaten for dinner sat uncomfortably in her gut, as if the air had followed it down and sat on it.

They parted ways at the family house, Nina disappearing inside to fetch a chilled bottle of something while Emily headed around the side to the back patio. As per their emerging routine, they would fill their glasses, curl up in the hanging chairs, and watch the night roll in.

“So,” said Nina, stepping out through the patio doors, an ice bucket in her hands. “How are you doing? Have you had a gutful of the isolation yet?”

Emily resisted a smile. Soft though it was, Nina’s Australian accent still caught her by surprise, the lazy drawl so at odds with her delicate looks. “No, the opposite,” she said. “It’s weird, I thought I’d find it hard, but it’s actually been good to get away from everything.”

“You don’t miss Facebook?”

“God, no.”

“Me neither. The lack of privacy scares me. In fact, I’d prefer not to have any photos of the estate on social media, if that’s not too much to ask? As I’m sure Scott explained, discretion is really important to us.”

“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t post anything anyway. I’ve never been a fan of social media. Too overwhelming.” That wasn’t strictly true. Emily would have gladly devoted more time and energy to her accounts if she’d thought she could make anything of them, but she never had anything to show or say, and the bursting profiles of her successful drama-school mates were too much to bear.

That being said, the total loss of connectivity hadn’t been easy at first. Querencia was a communications dead zone. She’d checked her phone reflexively in those first few days, frustrated by the lack of reception. She’d even wandered through the gate and out into the woods several times to see if that might help, but it never did. And then on her first drive out to the nearest market she discovered that, in order to pick up any mobile service whatsoever, she would have to drive a good thirty or forty minutes inland, and even then she might only get one bar, maybe two. There was Wi-Fi, apparently, and Nina had given her the code, but for some reason her phone couldn’t find the network. Nina had said she’d get Yves to have a look but hadn’t mentioned it again, and amid all the work and the food and the wine, Emily kept forgetting to remind her.

After a while, the urgency faded away. Within just a few days, Emily had felt different. Happier. Less anxious. And after a few weeks, she was barely thinking about her phone at all. She knew she could probably ask to use Nina’s computer (there’d have to be one in the family house, or how would Nina manage Aurelia’s homeschooling?), but the lines had been clearly drawn—that’s your house; this is mine—and that was fine by Emily. She decided that the summer would be a much-needed digital detox. There was no one she wanted to communicate with, anyway.

“What about your family?” Nina asked, as if reading Emily’s thoughts. “Your friends? Aren’t you missing home?”

Pressing the cool wineglass glass to her cheek, Emily wrinkled her nose.

Nina laughed. “That bad, huh?”

“No,” Emily said, thinking of Hoxley’s narrow roads, dreary high street, and soggy playing field. “It’s just … small. Boring. Your average country village.”

“Sounds rather idyllic to me.”

“Ugh.” Emily scoffed. “Try living there.” Growing up, the inertia had been paralyzing. The world had loomed, huge and exciting, but her parents never wanted to go anywhere or do anything new.

“Well,” said Nina. “I’m glad you’re not homesick. But life here can be pretty small and boring, too.” She looked out across the grounds. “I hope you’d tell me if you’re finding it too difficult.”

“Oh, no.” Emily leaned back, resting her head against a cushion. “I could never be bored here. It’s so beautiful. And there’s always something to do.” She thought of the countless boxes of books she’d discovered in one room (“for the library,” Nina had explained) and the movie projector she’d found in another.

“You’re not wrong there,” said Nina. “Speaking of which, we should get started on those bathrooms tomorrow.”

They swung gently on their hanging chairs, sipping their wine and discussing paintbrushes, cornices, and skirting boards before settling into a comfortable silence. Overhead, thick purple clouds were gathering, slowly obliterating the stars. Bats swooped among the trees as the last of the light left the sky, and somewhere in the distance, a fork of lightning tripped down to earth.

Emily counted four Mississippis before she heard the soft boom of thunder; according to schoolyard science, the storm was less than a mile away. Sighing happily, she studied the horizon, waiting for more flashes of lightning. So this is what perfection feels like, she thought.

And then a long, terrified howl cut through the evening air, so loud and so disorientating that it took Emily a few seconds to react.

“Oh my fucking god, what is that?” she yelled, sitting bolt upright.

Beside her, Nina leaped to her feet, spilling wine over her dress.

The scream got louder. It was horrific, jagged and raw and full of pain. Suddenly it broke off, leaving an empty silence that had Emily’s ears ringing.

“What the…?”

Then it was back, with increased ferocity. It was coming from the house. A slideshow of horrific scenarios ran through her head: someone had broken in and Aurelia was being butchered; she’d fallen down the stairs and broken her back; she’d been bitten by a snake.

“Goddamn these bloody storms,” Nina said with a tut, apparently not sharing Emily’s concerns. She set down her wineglass and hurried toward the house. She opened one of the patio doors and disappeared inside, reappearing again almost instantly with a tea towel pressed to her dripping-wet dress. “It’s okay,” she called from the doorway, straining to be heard over the noise. “It’s just a night terror. She’s had them for years.”

“Night terror?”

“One of the many reasons I’m glad we don’t have neighbors. They’ve been much better lately, but we still get the odd doozy, usually during a thunderstorm. She hates the noise.”

Somehow, the screeching seemed to intensify, and Nina flinched. She dropped the tea towel on the floor and flashed Emily a nervous smile. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. It sounds a lot worse than it is. Sorry, I’d better go and…” She gestured in the general direction of the clamor and dashed off. A second later she was back, sticking her head through the doorway. “Don’t worry about the glasses and stuff, I’ll get them later.” Then she was gone again.

Emily stood with her hand pressed to her chest. A few minutes later the cries died down, and a lullaby floated gently through an open window.

* * *