She nods as she moves to a bureau and pulls out a book from its top drawer, flicking through the pages until she finds the last one to be written on. ‘I need your name, address and telephone number in here.’ She taps a pen against the pad and hands it to me. ‘Then I’ll show you up to your room. You can pay me in cash now or when you leave, it’s up to you.’

‘I can do it now,’ I say as I begin writing.

‘I make breakfast at eight but you’ll need to sort yourself out for anything else.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘There’s a shop and a café in the village but they shut early in winter.’

I nod. ‘Thank you.’

She waits for me to finish writing and takes the book from me, reading my address. ‘So how long since you were last here?’

‘About twenty-five years,’ I say.

‘And where did you live?’

‘The Quay House,’ I tell her, and wait for the inevitable widening of her eyes and parting of her mouth. She reaches out to hold on to the bureau beside her, and as her gaze roams my face, I can tell she is searching for clues as to what this means.

‘I was only eleven when we left,’ I say, shrugging, hoping she might think I therefore have little memory of the island. I’m relieved when she tells me to follow her upstairs to a pleasantly large and clean, but dark bedroom. The trees outside the window sap what little light there is, made worse by more mahogany furniture and a deep purple bedspread.

Rachel fumbles in her pocket and produces two keys. ‘These are for your room and the front door, but as I say, I’ll be double-locking at nine.’ She begins to back out but pauses before heading down the stairs. ‘I only agreed to you staying because you said you had friends here, but if people don’t take kindly to you coming back, then—’ She breaks off, leaving me no wiser as to what she’d do. No doubt tell me I’d need to go.

‘We don’t need any more upset. We’ve been through enough the last few days and can do without more people poking their noses in,’ she says, looking at me pointedly. I go to protest but Rachel carries on, quieter now. ‘This was a good place to live until last Friday and now …’ she shakes her head ‘… now you’re better off just keeping your business to yourself.’

‘I promise I’m not here to cause any trouble,’ I tell her and eventually she nods and leaves.

I dump my bag on the bed, pulling out my purse and phone and stuffing them into my coat pockets. Her accusation that I’m only here to be nosy riles me, and I hate that she thinks she has more right to be here than I do.