They reach the town and are closing in on a turning Will can use as a shortcut home.

‘Don’t go yet,’ she says. ‘I haven’t told you what I came to tell you.’

Will hadn’t said anything about going. ‘I live just –’

‘Sure you do. Walk with me to the front, though. Just to the front? It’s not far.’

‘Got some things I’ve gotta do. For school, and, you know …’

Who’s behind this, Will wonders, who’s having a good laugh at him spending his afternoon with this crazy old dear? He’s nearly at the turning now, ready to break into a jog. What if April hears about this? What will she think of him?

‘She likes you, Will.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You know who I mean. Really likes you. You’ll see. Don’t be afraid to be yourself with her, though. Your greatest asset, that is – being you.’ She repositions the pram so it’s between Will and the turning. ‘Just to the front, Will. I have a message for you. Listen a moment.’

‘Who?’ Will asks, an edge of irritation to the word as he accepts that he’s carrying on walking with her rather than going home. ‘Who from?’

‘A friend of yours wants to see you.’

‘I don’t really have any friends.’

‘Oh, you will. Soon enough. Lots. Too many to count.’

She natters away – how she loves this time of the autumn, what the buildings in the town used to be in her day – never leaving a gap long enough for Will to change the subject. Side by side they walk through the backstreets of Ebbswick and on to the marsh road. Visible now, the sea is grey beneath dark clouds at the horizon.

‘This is where your friend will meet you,’ the old lady says. They cross the tracks and are stopped beside the level crossing on the road that leads into Patten’s Island, barely a hundred metres from where Danny’s car broke down on that evening a month ago. Cars thump over the tracks beside them and once again Will hopes no one he knows can see him.

‘Someone’s asked to meet me here?’ Will asks her quietly, but it makes the question no less absurd.

‘That’s right,’ she says. ‘Give it a few minutes. What have you got to lose? If no one comes, go home. Then you’ll know you were right and I really am a crazy old bat.’

‘I don’t think that.’

He does. But there’s something else, too. Something unsettling about her. The way she looks into him when she speaks, like she knows more about him than she has any right to.

‘I’ll leave you now,’ she says. ‘Thank you. For coming this far with me. It must all seem very strange, I know. But you’ve done the right thing. Wait a minute and you’ll see.’