‘You know about it?’

‘I saw it once. I can still see it in my mind’s eye, no pun intended. It really stuck, freaked me out. It was when I was babysitting one afternoon, sitting on the floor in Lily’s room – you’re right, by the way, the room with the eye was Lily’s.’

Even though I guessed as much, this still gives me the shivers.

‘I wonder who put it there and why?’

‘No idea. But I remember I went home and looked it up, found some stuff in an encyclopaedia about evil eye curses and decided I didn’t want to know any more.’

‘Why would someone want to put a curse on the poor child? Mary would hardly do that, would she?’

Fran shakes her head. ‘I doubt it. Though it’s an odd thing to put on a child’s wall, if you believe in curses and the like. Anyway’ – she looks at her watch and clicks her key fob to unlock her car – ‘I’d better go. Yoga at eleven.’

As soon as I open the front door, I know I don’t want to be here. Leaving the pot of paint in the hall, I grab my Mac and head back out, going on foot to The Sugar Tree cafe. If I’m going to spend the morning staring at photos of Lily and my sister, I may as well be somewhere with other people and fresh coffee. And the walk there will do me good.

I’m surprised to see Fran there when I enter the cafe half an hour later. This doesn’t look like ‘yoga’. She’s sitting with the same woman she was with in The Wine Cask the Saturday night before last, and a dark-haired woman in her fifties. Fran is deep in conversation and doesn’t notice me approaching as I make my way towards an empty table at the back.

‘Hiya,’ I say, turning as I pass.

Her mouth drops open. ‘Oh. Joanna. Hi.’

‘Yoga cancelled?’

Her face flushes.

‘Yoga!’ says the younger of her two companions. ‘Since when do you do yoga?’ The woman turns to look up at me. ‘I think I need to hear more about this.’ Her smile is bright, mischievous. The other woman is staring at her coffee, shoulders hunched. I’ve clearly interrupted something or put my foot in it, but I can’t work out how.

‘My mistake,’ I say. ‘It was another neighbour doing yoga.’

‘You’re Auntie Fran’s neighbour? I need all the goss, immediately. I’m Saoirse.’ She sticks out her hand.

‘I’m Joanna,’ I say. ‘Nice to meet you. And yes, I live next door to your aunt.’

‘She’s not really my aunt, she’s my godmother, but also fairy godmother, and my mother’s best friend in the world, and since I have no actual, literal aunts, she may as well be.’

The dark-haired woman is still looking down at her coffee and it’s gone from odd to awkward. If she’s Fran’s best friend, does that make her Zara? Meaning Saoirse is Robbie’s daughter? And Lily’s half-sister? I can’t help staring at her now, looking for resemblances to Lily. There’s something familiar about the turn of her mouth, the shape of her jaw, maybe, but then I’ve spent so much time staring at photos in the last twelve hours, everyone is starting to look like everyone.