It persisted through a long afternoon of client appointments and was still pinching her head when she got home. A strong gin and tonic didn’t fix it, because Tara knew deep down what the cause of it was: she still hadn’t talked to Toby about the house.

Sybil was nowhere to be seen, even when Tara produced her bowl of cat pâté, and eventually, worried, Tara went to look for her.

She found the cat on the low wall that separated the patio from the long expanse of back garden: Sybil’s spine was arched and her mouth wide and pink with outrage. She was hissing at something, and the tension in her rigid body gave Tara the creeps.

‘What are you looking at?’ The cat was furious, almost dog-like in her guarding.

Tara followed the direction of her furious stare and jumped: Sybil was hissing because there was someone in the garden.

A man. A man in a dark jacket was walking around the studio, taking pictures on his phone.

Tara’s heart thudded with panic, then she remembered the message from the estate agent. Bryn Thomas of Thomas Bliss Thomas had provided the probate valuation before the floods, but she’d managed to deflect his questions about when she planned to put the house on the market. He’d phoned again, earlier in the week, ‘offering’ to ‘pop back’ – this was probably him now.

She marched down the garden, past the beds of roses and the big outdoor table Mum had used for al fresco dining, towards the studio.

And I don’t want them to manage the Airbnb either, if that’s what he’s after, she thought.

Then the man turned and saw her coming down the lawn towards him, and Tara’s stomach flipped. He smiled. He smiled at her … and waved.

Tara stopped walking.

He waved again.

Her dry lips moved, but it took an effort to push out her voice.

‘Dad?’ she croaked, and the word sounded strange in the air.

‘Hello, Taransay!’ said Keith Hunter.

CHAPTER FOUR

No one called Tara Taransay, just as no one called Toby Tobermory. Not many people even knew it was her real name. Dad was the only one who ever did, because, according to Mum, he was the one who’d insisted on their ridiculous names in the first place.