‘Shit,’ I mutter, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet. The few beach houses clustered around me are shrouded in darkness. There is only one place I can think of going – Annie’s.

The light is fading fast and I stick to the path, but as soon as I approach the clifftop above Pirate’s Cove a warm yellow beam shines out from the back of the nearest bay house belonging to Susan and Graham Carlton.

It is getting darker and I should get to Annie’s, but then I never did speak to Susan when I was last here. And apart from Annie, she was the closest one to my mum.

In the latter years I didn’t visit the Carltons’ house much, but often when I’d pass I’d see Mum and Susan sitting on a swinging seat beside the front porch, laughing over a glass of wine. The seat is still here. Tonight the wind catches it, rocking it back and forth, and, empty of people, it’s a disquieting sight.

The light shining from the back illuminates their garden which is exposed to the clifftop, bordered only by a low hedgerow. A figure, doused in black from the shoulders down, is standing at the far end, looking out to sea, the wind picking up her hair and whipping it about wildly.

I walk to the side of the house, and while there’s a break in the rain I pull my hood back and call out, ‘Susan?’

She doesn’t respond.

I clear my throat to call out more loudly, when she moves her head ever so slightly, as if she wants to look over her shoulder but can’t quite make it.

As I pass along the side of the house, she inches around further and peers in my direction. ‘It’s Stella,’ I call.

Finally Susan twists her whole body around, but she doesn’t move off her spot. I smile as I walk up to her, her face passive and pale against the bright beam that floods the garden from her kitchen. ‘Do you know, Graham looked like a ghost the day he told me you were back,’ she says. Fumes of alcohol waft from her breath and a glimmer of a smile hangs off her lips but it isn’t reflected in her eyes. ‘He’s been down on that beach for over forty minutes now. In this weather, too.’

She turns back to the cove which is a sheer drop down from the end of their garden and I follow her gaze, spotting two figures, one with a flashlight that shines out towards the water. I take her word it’s Graham as there is no way of knowing from where we stand.