‘Better. In fact, perfect. Communities like this, dare I say it, are the exception now. We’re lucky to be at the end of the road, end of the bus route. Once you get to Budleigh, there’s nowhere else to go. That makes us think just a little harder about who we are, what we’ve got, how important it is to keep an eye out for each other. That’s rare these days, and in a little town like this it helps no end to admit it. Perhaps even to be proud of it. There’s far too much noise these days, too much clamour. People end up shouting because they’re terrified of not being heard, of not being noticed. We don’t do much shouting here, and I doubt these people ever have.’

‘And Beth?’

‘Beth?’ A gloved hand descends on my lap. ‘Beth, my lovely, is different.’

We walk towards the start of the cliff path. The line of police tape across the beach has gone, though in the distance I can see two bulky police officers standing watch over the pile of fallen debris from the cliff face. The fact that the beach is nearly empty after yesterday’s chaos is welcome news for both of us, and when Evelyn suggests popping into L’Image for a spot of afternoon tea, there’s a hint of celebration, as well as relief, in her voice.

The café, like the beach, is virtually empty, only a couple of the tables occupied. The two figures bent over slices of carrot cake are all too familiar. Beth glances up as we open the door, and at once grabs for her bag and gets to her feet. She offers Evelyn a nod as she sweeps past but blanks me completely. Nathan Kline, on the other hand, gives us both a courtly kiss.

‘Lovely.’ He rubs his hands together. ‘I apologize for my young friend. I’m afraid that events have rather overwhelmed her. Carrot cake, anyone?’ He nods down at Beth’s untouched plate. ‘Such a shame to waste it.’

We settle at his table and talk, inevitably, about yesterday’s events. He says he’s been talking to Bill and both of them agreed that digging the grave and burying Christianne was a huge tribute to McFaul.

‘How ever did he do it? God knows. It must have been days in the preparation, maybe weeks, maybe longer. If the poor bugger’s still alive, I wonder if he’s seen those pictures.’

‘You think he’s dead?’ Evelyn sounds shocked.

‘I think he may be. I was saying to Enora a while back, before he bailed out and left us, he had a certain look about him. You can see it in the tightness of the mouth, in the eyes. Someone’s been in there and turned the lights off. Depression? Despair? Grief can do funny things to people. I truly think he’d had enough.’