Five minutes later he was driving to collect the crazy Londoners from the lighthouse in his muddy 4x4. He hadn’t yet made up his mind whether to be impressed or amused by their walk from the station to the edge of the peninsula, but it showed some determination, he would give them that. It was a short enough drive, he’d be there in fifteen minutes, but by the same token it was a miserable enough walk, at night, with the wind up as it was and the rain all of last week. Boggy, that was the word. He dipped his headlights and turned in towards the gate, where he saw the huddle of them emerging from Freida’s old bungalow round the back. He wound down a window.

‘Evening all,’ he called.

‘Good evening,’ shouted the man, a little louder than he needed to, despite the wind. Big chap. He got in the front seat and held out his hand. ‘Piotr Filipek,’ he said. ‘Thank you for this.’

‘No bother,’ Declan said with a nod and a shake of his hand.

‘I’m Eva,’ the younger woman said, climbing into the back seat. ‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Awful night,’ said the older woman, slamming the door with some force.

Eva had short bright red hair, kind of spiky, and piercing eyes – Bea was going to like her. The older one was dressed like Humphrey Bogart. Declan reversed out the way he had come, and put the radio on for a bit of company as he turned back towards the main road.

‘I live on the coast, near Edderton,’ he said. ‘Which you’ll not have heard of, I imagine,’ he chuckled.

None of them seemed to know what to say.

‘But we’ve got a good view,’ he said. ‘Me and Bea. We can see right across to the lighthouse. Beautiful at night, you know?’

None of them seemed to know.

‘And in the day,’ he said.

Thank God the A9 was empty, he thought to himself, putting his foot down and accelerating past seventy. He could have told them about Freida in the car, or before they even set off from the lighthouse, but every time he caught the old woman’s eyes in the mirror he knew this wasn’t the time. And he was finding it difficult to broach the subject. He didn’t like to upset folk, didn’t want to be the one to deliver the news. He might never have heard of these people, Freida might never have spoken of them, but they knew her. He was sure of that. And judging by the tense silence in the back of the car, there seemed to be a lot riding on their finding her, even if it was seven years too late.