The irony of the word wasn’t lost on Sam. Home. Gabe might have meant her home, or his former home, or the place he intended to settle in for however long. Whichever way, she knew she was going to have to get used to his continued presence and, more importantly, the way she felt about his presence. Neither of them said much as they drove towards Porthmellow along the road that skirted Mount’s Bay. It was almost dark and St Michael’s Mount was silhouetted against the indigo sky, with lights twinkling in the castle and in the tiny harbour at its base. Gabe pulled away gently as Sam peered out of the window.

He took the road through the centre of Marazion, it was late and there wasn’t much traffic. The car moved slowly along the main street, with its shuttered cafés and shops, until it stopped at a pedestrian crossing to let half a dozen young guys across. They had obviously had a few, laughing and exchanging banter as they headed down a street on the nearside of the car towards a pub. One of them blew Sam a kiss and she rolled her eyes at him.

Once they were off the crossing, Gabe pulled away, but something caught Sam’s eye and she twisted round. Her pulse rate shot up and her stomach knotted.

‘Stop!’ she shouted.

Gabe was driving past the central square now. ‘Hey! What’s the matter?’

She stabbed the window button and it slid down. She undid her seat belt and pushed her face through the open window. ‘Wait!’ The seat belt alarm started screeching.

‘I can’t stop here. There are people behind. Hang on.’ Gabe pulled into a bus stop and she fumbled with the door. By now, the pub was a hundred yards behind them.

He put his hand on her arm, preventing her from getting out. ‘For God’s sake, wait. What’s the matter?’

She tried to pull away. ‘I just saw Ryan. Crossing the street. I’m sure it was him.’

His jaw dropped. ‘Ryan? It can’t be.’

‘That guy who walked last over the crossing in the orange hoodie. It was the image of him.’

‘I saw him, but his face didn’t ring a bell. Mind you, I couldn’t see that much of it.’

‘The way he walked across in front of us. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, just like Ryan used to. He had red hair too. I’m sure it was him. I was sure …’ Even as the words were out, doubts were creeping in that it really had been Ryan. It was just a fleeting glimpse under streetlights of a man in a hood, and yet there was something.