“George,” said Donald, into the silence. “What have you done?”

“Oh, hello.” George looked at Donald in honest astonishment. He was pottering in the place he and everyone else still called the boat-yard, even though the days of boats being built here were long gone and most of his trade was in garden sheds.

“George.” Donald wasn’t sure where to begin.

“What?”

“George.”

“What?”

Donald spotted a stack of neatly-piled, blue-painted wood. “George.”

“What?” George was getting exasperated. “What do you want? I keep asking you.”

Donald couldn’t trust himself to speak, so instead he pointed.

“That’s the beach hut I built,” said George. “I took it down for them. There was someone coming to look at it and Finn didn’t want them to see. It’s a good thing I used properly seasoned timber or we’d never have got it down without breaking it. It was enough of a job as it was. The paint didn’t help.”

Donald continued to stare blankly at George.

“So would it be all right for Alicia to come and help out when she’s finished her schoolwork, then?” asked George, bafflingly.

“What?”

“Maybe you don’t remember, I mentioned it to you, let’s see… seven weeks and two days ago. I said she could help out in the yard. You said she was out. So when I saw her this morning, I asked her again. She said she’d have to ask you because she had a lot of schoolwork. So, now I’m asking you.”

“Hang on. Back up. When did you see Alicia?”

“This morning. She helped with the take-down. She was very useful.” George beamed at Donald.

“And what happens to the beach hut now?” asked Donald.

“Ah, now, that depends if whoever it was has been to see them,” said George. “Do you know if whoever it was has been to see them?”

“Oh yes,” said Donald. He knelt by the pile of stacked timber and picked at a large, loose flake of blue paint. It felt rubbery and flexible. He tore it carefully in two, then into four. “He’s been down to see them. And they weren’t there. So they’ve closed off the case.”

“Good,” said George. “Then we can go down there tomorrow and put it back.”

“Brilliant,” said Donald. “George, can I just ask one thing? Did Alicia just happen to turn up this morning? Or was it arranged?”

“How would I know that?”

“You might have – she might have – oh, never mind,” said Donald wretchedly. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll ask when I see her.”

“She won’t be back until later.”

“What?”

“They went up the coast in the camper van. All three of them. Alicia was in the front seat. Do you know,” said George, thoughtfully, “camper vans only have one front seat-belt that goes right across everyone, regardless of how many people there are? I never knew that. It doesn’t look very safe to me. Finn was driving but I don’t know how good he is. Are you all right?”