Charlie took his bags off Danny and pushed open the old door to the boatshed. It creaked loudly, as it had done for years. He would oil the hinges again, but it would make little difference.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly as Danny headed back up the path. He was a good boy, the Temple kid.

The row of daddy-long-legs guarding the entry were momentarily disturbed by the rush of fresh air as Charlie closed the door quickly behind him. He manoeuvred round the boxes piled awkwardly on top of each other, careful not to touch their dusty surfaces. He removed his shoes at the inner line of busted plastic milk crates that sat just beyond the barrier of cardboard.

His fingers lightly trailed along the bookshelf that separated the entrance from the rest of the room, rising and falling over the bumpy spines of the books – some near vertical, most at varying angles of horizontal. He paused briefly, reached to the shelf above his shoulder and pulled out the only dust-free novel, gently caressing its front and back to ensure it remained clean and then carefully returned it to its place.

He lowered his tired aching body in his armchair in the far corner of the room, surrounded by dust sheets that hid long-forgotten treasures. He cursed the pain that invaded his every bone and muscle. He knew he was old, he didn’t need constant reminding.

His simple wooden bed lay to his left against a clean white wall, and in the corner next to that stood a small fridge, a sink, a simple hob and a few shelves stacked with tins. His basic bathroom, a toilet and tiny shower, was behind him.

A picture of a barefoot woman in a flowing gypsy skirt mid-twirl in a patch of grass hung above his bed, the only sign of life in his little corner of order among the decaying chaos that surrounded him. He smiled at Ivy in greeting as he did every time he came inside.

Charlie looked out the portal window at his small view of the perfect blue ocean, framed by dirt and salt that clouded the edges of the round glass. The bus trip to Woodville and back had taken its toll, but he couldn’t do what needed to be done here. He couldn’t give idle tongues any fodder.

He wasn’t sure how the first part of his plan was going to work out, but at least something was happening with the cottage. And now that the next part of his plan was in motion, he only hoped there would be some redemption, even it wasn’t for him.

Twelve

The first day of the kitchen installation was going well. As far as Nicole could tell anyway. Danny had turned up early in the morning with a Matt and Greg from the football team and they got stuck straight in.