I crouched and my fingers searched the sand for a few stones. I threw one in a high arc into the sea. It fell into the churning water with a splash before sinking down to the seabed below. Jago and I had spent hours doing this when we were younger. Dad would walk up on to an outcrop of rock nearby with his binoculars and bird book to scan the cliffs and sky, and we’d sit beside each other on the sand with a small pile of carefully selected stones between us. Then we’d throw them, counting down from three so they released at the same time, and see who could throw theirs the furthest. Sometimes I’d win and when I did Jago would pat me on the back and say, Good throw, that. Looking back on it I knew he’d let me win on those occasions and I had a sudden rush of warmth towards him.

I turned and stared up at The Cliff House which stood like a monument, a temple perhaps, on the expanse of empty cliff. The sunlight fell on it in such a way that it appeared to glow, its windows blazing, a haze of light splayed around its outline.

‘You’re so lucky to live there,’ I said to Edie as I threw a pebble.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I hate it. I’ve got no way of getting out, even for a day. I’m literally trapped.’

‘You should see where we live.’

‘What’s it like?’

‘Tiny. Dark. Horrible.’ I threw another stone out and watched it splash and disappear. ‘When Dad died it stopped feeling like home. And now Mum’s got this guy hanging around and every time he comes over it feels like we’re been invaded.’

‘Do you think she’ll marry him?’

Her question hit me so hard in the stomach I felt physically winded. ‘No!’ I said sharply. ‘No. Of course not. She barely knows him. And, anyway, she loved my dad too much.’

‘But he’s dead. And she’s so pretty and young. It must be awful for her to have lost the love of her life. God, we’ll probably all die soon anyway, catch AIDS or get nuked by mad Soviets or taken over by aliens. We might as well squeeze as much love out of this crappy life as we can, don’t you think?’