She shakes her head. ‘It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me like it does many of the islanders.’ She places a mug in front of me.

‘Thank you. How do you mean?’

‘They hate the fact people are prying into their lives. I don’t know, it’s like they suddenly all feel guilty. That’s what my mum says, anyway. She says it’s enough having a policeman on your doorstep to make you feel like you’ve done something wrong.’

I nod, knowing what she means.

‘I kind of get it,’ the girl goes on, ‘but she hasn’t been hounded that much. Anyway, that’s why no one’s coming out of their houses.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘We’ve all been told to stay away from the press so I think they find it easier to hide away altogether. Did you like living here?’

‘I did,’ I smile. ‘I liked it a lot.’

‘I think I get the best of both worlds because I stay with my dad as well. He always said it was too claustrophobic. Some of my friends hate it.’

‘My sister did too,’ I tell her. ‘She couldn’t wait to leave.’

‘Is that why you did?’

I shake my head. ‘No, not really. My dad got a job in Winchester. I’m Stella, by the way.’

‘I’m Meg.’ She gives me a smile that lights up her face. ‘And I like it, in answer to your earlier question. Well, at least I think I do.

‘No one knows who it is,’ Meg goes on, sliding into a seat opposite me. ‘Straight after they found the body it was horrible, you know? Everyone was talking about it and you could tell they were all looking at each other differently. Mum told me I wasn’t to trust anyone, but I think she’s over-reacting. I mean, I’ve known these people all my life.’

I nod as I take a bite of my sandwich. Whatever warning Emma gave her daughter clearly hasn’t been heeded. The journalists would have pounced on a young girl like her, naive, ready to tell them what they wanted.

Meg leans in closer again as she says, ‘I don’t like it, if I’m being honest. People are starting to gossip about who might’ve done it. I hope it’s not someone who still lives here.’

I give her a small smile. ‘I guess the best thing you can do is just stay out of it.’

Meg looks up as a man enters the café. Pushing her chair away, she stands and says, ‘You should definitely visit my mum, I think she’d like to see a friendly face.’ For the first time in our short conversation I see her eyes cloud. ‘She’s more on edge than ever,’ she adds more quietly.

‘She might not even remember me,’ I say quickly.