‘Ryan?’ Vera’s voice was sharper now. So why didn’t you tell me? Why leave it to your sister?

‘He goes beachcombing,’ Ryan said. ‘Sometimes you get wood washed ashore from the Norwegian cargo boats. Long planks that he can use in the yard. He goes early to find the good stuff.’

Vera looked at them both and nodded. Something was going on in this family, a tension between brother and sister, and she didn’t understand it. She had no siblings. As far as she knew. So no experience of the way they worked out their differences. She thought it could just be rivalry, both of them wanting their mother’s attention and approval. But at their age, shouldn’t they be over that? Then she thought of Joe and Holly and decided that some people never grew out of it. She smiled briefly at the idea that her team were like a big, dysfunctional family.

She turned to Ryan. ‘Have you got a key to the yard?’ There was a possibility that Kerr had been there all night, holed up drinking in his bothy. Best try that before a wild goose chase to the beach.

He nodded and pulled a key from his pocket. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Suddenly he seemed eager to get out of the house. To be walking again? Soaking up secrets?

‘Nah, you’re all right.’ She took the key from him and walked up the stairs to the hall. Stuart Booth was still there, standing awkwardly, not a paying guest, but not part of the family, either. She walked past him without a word.

In the street it was quite light now. She unlocked the padlock and let herself into the yard, the metal sticking to her glove because it was still icy. All the time she was thinking about the family in Number One, Harbour Street. Perhaps they were all still mourning Margaret and the awkwardness she’d imagined was no more sinister than that.