‘No. It’s me that should apologise,’ Will said. ‘I’m getting pretty frayed around the edges. Yes, Sophie can map read, in fact she enjoys it. Her father was sent all over the world and my sister said Sophie always traced his routes on the map. Plus, she is in the Brownies. She told me that she was doing her orienteering and compass work badge and she loved it. Sophie could have found her way to Whisper Fen with her eyes shut. It’s why she wanted to come here that worries me.’

‘Surely, if you’re her only living relative, the answer is obvious,’ the policeman said, puzzled.

Will looked at the ground. ‘She only came here once, but the fen, and Holland House in particular, frightened her a great deal.’

The sergeant shrugged. ‘You told us about that before. Well, it seems that the thought of seeing you again made her overcome her fears. We now have two almost certain sightings.’

A fine drizzle blew off the fen and coated Matt’s cold face with a sheen of salty mist. ‘It will soon be impossible to remain out there.’ He gazed out across the miserable windswept expanse of marsh. ‘Not just the weather, but the tide. I saw on the local news that we are expecting one of the highest tides of the year tonight.’

‘What gets swept out invariably gets returned to us.’ The sergeant’s tone was grave.

‘Do you think she just got caught by the incoming water? Swept out into the Wash?’ Matt asked.

‘Can’t be sure of anything on this coastline. It certainly could have happened that way. I’ve even known locals get caught out.’ The policeman paused, frowning. ‘But I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right. The coastguard and the Royal Air Force are out there and they’ve found nothing yet. No, my gut feeling tells me that there is more to this than a simple accident. Sorry, Will, I imagine that’s probably not what you want to hear.’

Will glanced at Matt. ‘We feel the same, don’t we, Matt? Plus, we have a real lowlife living out here. Added to the strange goings on at Little Anchor, the whole thing stinks.’

‘And don’t forget the gruesome stories about Holland House,’ added Matt. ‘They might be fables and old wives’ tales, but they don’t help.’

‘You can say that again,’ Will said. ‘They’re certainly real enough to Kate — real enough to warp her mind, by the looks of it. Oh Lord. My poor Kate!’

Matt put a reassuring arm around his friend’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Will. She’s in good hands. Better than being here, that’s for sure. Let’s go inside for a bit and let these chaps get on with their work. They’ll soon come and get you if there’s any news, won’t you, Sergeant?’