Kerr’s shed was empty and she left quickly, locking the yard behind her. She headed for her vehicle and for the beach. His elderly car was parked in the sandy space behind the dunes and she left the Land Rover next to it. Nobody else was about. She climbed the sand hills, pulling on the marram grass in places to help her up. There were patches of frost in the hollows. More memories of Hector. This time of a trip away, a beach in North Wales with breeding little terns. They’d stayed in a dreadful B&B. Slimy nylon sheets, shelves covered with glass ornaments: cats and rabbits and a row of blue owls with bulging eyes. Hector had flirted with the landlady in the hope of a discount. Then they’d climbed the dunes, Hector with an egg box in each pocket of his long Barbour coat. They’d peered over the top of the dune to find a warden sitting just below them. A young man, frozen because he’d been there most of the night, huddled in a cheap anorak. Hector had pulled her down beside him. ‘We’ll wait. He’ll have been drinking coffee all night to keep warm and awake. He’ll soon need a piss.’ The words whispered, his face so close to hers that she’d felt his prickly chin on her cheek.

And at last the warden had stood up. By now there were dog walkers at the far end of the beach and he’d jogged past Hector and Vera’s hiding place to the public toilets in the car park, deserting his post through embarrassment or a sense of decency. Immediately Hector was on his feet and amongst the tern colony, raiding the nests on the shingle beach. They passed the warden on their way back to their car and he smiled and said hello. Because who could be suspicious of a middle-aged man and an overweight girl.

Back in the present, Vera reached the last sand hill and stood looking down at the long beach. A big orange sun over the horizon, and space that took her breath away. Rolling breakers and the smell of the sea. So much space that it made you dizzy to look at it. And in the distance a stooped figure, dragging a plank of wood behind him. He was on his way back to the car and she waited, taking in the view. She thought Chloe was probably right and he came here often. This was where he’d walked with Margaret Krukowski, discussing her illness.

Malcolm didn’t see her until he was at the foot of the dunes. He always walked looking down at his feet, avoiding eye contact with strangers, perhaps. Then he stopped for a moment and looked around him, and that was when he saw Vera. She gave a little wave. She didn’t want to appear threatening.