Ruth glances across at me. ‘Why would we?’ Her hands hang at her sides, but her face looks frozen as she glares at me.

‘I hoped someone would know something, that’s all.’

She doesn’t move until the side door suddenly flings open, making her head snap towards it.

‘That damn woman,’ Bob is shouting as he enters, ‘never looking where she’s going. She came straight into me—’ He stops abruptly when he notices me at his table. ‘Who are you?’ he demands before turning to Ruth. ‘I told you not to keep letting these lot in. We’ve got nothing more to say—’

‘She’s not from the papers,’ Ruth interrupts shrilly, shaking her head a little more than necessary. ‘This is Stella Harvey. She was Jill’s friend when they were children.’

He turns to me. ‘Maria and David’s kid,’ he says slowly, his cold eyes roaming over me.

‘I just came by to pass on my condolences,’ I say, pushing myself out of my chair.

Bob’s face pales, his eyes growing wide. ‘What the hell are you on about?’

‘Jill,’ Ruth says quickly, in that high-pitched voice again. ‘She’s come to talk about Jill.’

His face relaxes slightly. ‘Oh, Jill,’ he says. ‘Right.’

For a moment I don’t speak as I wonder what it might be that Ruth is afraid her husband will say. ‘I’ve only just heard. I’m so sorry,’ I tell him.

Bob breathes in, his lungs sucking the air from the room. ‘Only just? Our daughter died sixteen years ago. And that’s why you came back, is it?’ he asks with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Well, no, I didn’t find out until I was here.’

He drops his bag on the floor and folds his arms across his chest as his eyes bore into me. ‘So what the hell did you come back for?’

Ruth’s hand grabs for the doily again, twisting it into a tight ball. I have no need to explain myself to Bob, but at the same time I have no idea how I’m going to get out of their house without giving him something. And right now that is all I want to do.

He leans forward, his face almost pressing against mine as he says, ‘Your family left a long time ago. There’s no need for any of you to return. So whatever you think you’re doing back, you aren’t wanted.’

He pulls away and stands aside, motioning to the open door. ‘I don’t want to see you around here again,’ he says, and I know he doesn’t just mean his house. He means the island.

As soon as I reach the top of their lane, out of sight of the pub, I pause, trying to regain control of my breath. I never expected a warm welcome from Bob but I hadn’t been prepared for that.