After ensuring the meat - the only slab of meat despite all visions of a second - was definitely in the bin, I tied the otherwise nearly empty bag securely shut and threw it in the rusty open drum outside, conveniently placed beside the lean-to with a scrawled label of “rubbish” on the side.

With all hunger and any chance of relaxation at the lodge lost, I decided to take my stroll up to the lake early. The forest was beautiful, the trees alive with birds and squirrels that dashed along the branches and watched me from above. I swore I saw a glimpse of a deer in the distance, but when I tried to look for it all I found was a fallen tree that had been hollowed out at the centre as if a large creature had taken a giant bite out of it a long time ago.

The reality of the lake was smaller than the photos from the printouts had made it appear, but still large enough for a short pier to jut out into the clear water with a boat moored at it, bumping against the limits of the thick rope holding it in place. I contemplated stepping into the boat and taking it out onto the lake, but instead just sat on the end of the pier, feet dangling an inch above the water.

I must have stared into the lake for at least an hour, watching my own reflection ripple beneath me, listening to the birds and the boat clunk gently against the wood of the pier. The later in the day it got, the deeper the honey glow of the forest became, the sunlight bouncing off the clear lake and painting the surrounding trees and foliage with a warm aura. It was calming, tranquil, and a far cry from the stress of my usual life and the peculiar panic of this morning.

As if sensing my thoughts, my phone rang in my pocket.

Grabbing it, I looked at the screen. Adrian.

I answered the call. “Missing me already?”

A loud laugh crackled through the phone, the poor signal here in the park making everything sound as if he were speaking from the bottom of a drainpipe beneath layers of muffling blankets. “Don’t worry, we survived a day without you.” A click of a door closing echoed in the background. “I’m just leaving the office and thought I’d see if you got there safely.”

I sighed, closing my eyes and raising my chin towards the sky. “It took me forever to get here. I got lost in the dark, Adrian, in the middle of nowhere. And…”

“And?”

“There was rotting meat in the fridge that definitely wasn’t there last night.”

A pause. “Must have been fresh? Was the fridge turned off?”

“Well...the generator wasn’t on this morning, but I don’t remember seeing a raw steak when I arrived.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Okay, okay.” I huffed, opening my eyes to glare across the glittering water of the lake. “I got it. I’m tired and overworked and the fridge died, so the fresh meat went off.”

Adrian laughed again. “Seriously, take it easy. You need this week away.”

“At least you’ve injected some sanity into the situation before I freak out just because I was overthinking.”

“They stock you with coffee?”

“They sure did.”

“Drink plenty and relax. You’re not allowed to think about work or stress yourself out over tiny details.”

I wasn’t too sure seeing maggot-filled raw meat in the fridge that miraculously teleported into the sink was a ‘tiny detail’, but I decided to let it go. “How are things?” I asked.

“No! What did I just say? No thinking about work!”

“Adrian, I’m asking about you.”

“Nope, you’re not. I’m not telling you anything.”

“Fine!” I exclaimed, getting up to start the picturesque walk back to the lodge.

“So, how is it? Do you like the lodge? Do you think you’ll get some respite there?”

I hummed in thought, letting my fingers brush against the rough bark of trees and the swaying leaves of bushes as I passed. “It’s nice enough, and the forest is beautiful.”

“There were good reviews about that particular lodge when I booked it, so I’m glad it’s working out.”

“Don’t sound too smug,” I said. “Thanks for calling me.”

“Sure thing. See you when you get back, but not a moment sooner.”

“Bye, Adrian.” I hung up, rolling my eyes.

I’d almost rewrote my memories of this morning by the time I’d returned to the lodge, the call with Adrian reassuring me that my overexhaustion had stretched the imagination to create an impossible situation which was actually easily explained. I was tired and didn’t notice the meat last night, and the generator had died so the fresh meat just...went off.

I skipped up the steps of the back porch and opened the sliding door into the kitchen, immediately noticing that the electricity was off again by the lack of lights on the fridge. What was the point in the thing if the generator kept dying?

I turned on my heel to walk to the lean-to, frowning because the roar coming from the generator sounded more like a screaming banshee than the rumbling throttle of an engine. I crouched down to look inside and saw that generator was definitely still on with three-quarters of a full tank remaining. I gave it a kick and the screaming stuttered, returning to a smooth growl. A ping came from the open sliding door, probably from the fridge switching back on.

I crossed my arms. If I had a dodgy generator this week was going to be difficult.

I returned to the house, noting that the electricity was indeed back on, and dug in my bag to find the printouts Adrian had supplied me. There were no contact details for the lodge company and the confirmation text I’d received had a “do-not-reply” note attached and any attempt to actually ring it was met with an engaged tone.

I started boiling the kettle for coffee while I waited for the lodge company webpage to load on my phone. Stirring my fresh mug of coffee with a cleaned spoon, I scrolled down the page and hit the customer service number. It began to ring immediately.

“Hello, you’ve reached Hideaway Lodges. How may I help you today?” a rehearsed tone answered, a flat voice of someone eyeing the clock for the final minutes until the end of their shift.

“Hey there, I’m staying at one of your lodges and I just wanted to ask a few questions.”

“Of course,” came the practised and polite reply. “May I get your name, please?”

“Charlie Harcourt, but it may be under my friend’s name who booked it for me - Adrian Oakes.”

“Thank you.” I heard rapid typing on a mechanical keyboard. “What are your questions while I find your reservation?”

“Well, I think the generator may be a bit iffy, and I wasn’t too sure how to get hot water.”

“Generator...?” A slight pause. “All our lodges are fitted with central heating so simply turning it on at the heating control, if not already done so, should do the job. However, none of our lodges are run via generator.” More typing. “I can’t seem to find your reservation. What is the name of the lodge you are staying at?”

“Midcreak Lodge, it’s in Midcreak Park.” I tapped my fingers in a nervous rhythm against my mug.

“Midcreak Park? I don’t believe we have…” Faster typing. “Yes, we don’t have anything in that area nor do we have any lodge under that name. Are you sure you contacted the correct company?”

I frowned, looking down at the printouts I’d laid out on the kitchen counter. Hideaway Lodges was emblazoned at the top in the exact same font as their webpage. “I’m sure.”

“You said your friend booked your lodge for you? Perhaps you should ask them, just in case, as unfortunately I cannot help you any further.”

I pursed my lips, swallowing away the rise of panic in my chest. “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you anyway.”

“Thank you for your call,” came the quick reply, and then the empty tone of being hung up on.

I reread the printouts but they gave no inkling of a different company, nor did they really provide much information other than the most basic. I called Adrian, taking a sip of my coffee, and strangling out an exasperated cry when all I got was voicemail.

I did a quick online search of Midcreak Park to see which rental companies were actually based out here, and...found nothing. Midcreak Park had no rental lodges or holiday lets running from within the forest, the only place to stay being a 4-star hotel on the outskirts of the park at the nearby golf course a good few miles away.

Maybe the lodge belonged to Adrian? But then why the secrecy of pretending it belonged to an actual company? I tried to ring again but the automated message of voicemail was all I got.

“Okay...there’s a reasonable explanation for this.” I searched my mind for one but came up with nothing. “A prank? A gift he was too embarrassed to give?” Didn’t make sense.

I took a long drink of my coffee and tried ringing again, desperately rereading the printouts for the fifth time.