“No need to worry,” said Finn. “We bought a resident’s permit.”

“How did you get hold of a… ” He stopped himself. His own fault for not checking. Never ask a question you don’t know the answer to.

“Besides,” said Finn, “we’re not sleeping in the van. We’re sleeping down here.”

Donald took a breath. He didn’t need to get angry. This was just the opening move. He had the power. The law was on his side.

“You don’t need to worry, you know,” said Ava, very gently. “We’re not trying to start a commune. We’ll be gone by midwinter. Finn will take the beach hut down when I leave. And then you’ll never have to see either of us again.”

When she pushed her hair back from her face, her t-shirt rode up and exposed a slender inch of skin. Was she doing it on purpose? Did she think he’d give in and drop the issue, in gratitude for a glimpse of female flesh? For God’s sake, why was he even looking? If he had a type, she was the opposite of it. He loved seeing women dressed and groomed, fresh and scented and lovely. It was an old-fashioned taste but he couldn’t help it.

“You’ll be hearing from us officially soon,” he said.

“Is that the Royal us?” Finn asked.

“Good luck getting the paint out of your hair,” Donald snapped. It wasn’t much of an exit line, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

As he strode off across the sand, he heard Finn say idly to Ava, “He fancied you, you know… where are the biscuits?”

Donald straightened his shoulders and walked faster.

Holding her breath, Alicia stood in the deserted café and watched through the gaps in the storm-shutters as her father walked by. Would he guess she was in here? She’d always struggled to keep secrets from him. Wherever she stashed her contraband, he always found it – homing unerringly in on the stolen chocolate in her dressing-up box, the copy of Cosmopolitan stashed behind her notice board, the library copy of Interview with the Vampire in her underwear drawer. It had even crossed her mind that he had hidden a camera in her room.

But surely, she thought, surely he won’t check for me in here.

Was she breaking the law? She had been given a key by Emma’s dad, and in the bustle of closing up for the season he’d forgotten to ask for it back. Or perhaps it had simply not occurred to him that, with the whole world to choose from, she might elect to spend time in a dark, cold, dusty room, with chairs stacked onto tables, and smelling of old chip-fat.

I’m not doing anything, she thought. I’m just… being alone in the dark. That’s all.

Nonetheless, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, standing statue-rigid behind the shutters and watching her father’s remorseless progress up the beach.

Emma’s dad came in once a week, to turn the lights on and off and check for leaks and make sure everything was in order. She’d taken the time to learn his schedule so she could be sure of her stolen haven. Now, she stood alone in the large cluttered space and felt bliss running through her veins. The plastic gingham covers, still subtly scented with antibacterial spray, were gathering a coat of sand that crept in past the storm-shutters.