Kym stood by the bridge and watched as the Donna Marie motored slowly under the bridge and into the lower harbour, but Ty didn’t look back.

*

The lighthouse was Maude’s idea and the climb to the top was more difficult than Nell remembered. The twist of the spiral staircase was tighter, the walls closer and the sudden emergence into daylight at the top was dizzying.

‘Careful,’ she said as Maude grabbed hold of the railing that ran around the narrow ledge and leant over it.

Maude didn’t bother replying, but she did, Nell noticed gratefully, step back, letting go of the railing and leading the way around the glassed-in lamp. On the seaward side the wind buffeted them and Nell had to guard against the instinct to take Maude by the arm, and keep her close; she wouldn’t welcome it, and after all, they were perfectly safe.

They stopped and took in the view for a moment. Even though it wasn’t the brightest of days, something about the light, the way it hit the sea, the dull sandstone of the lighthouse, the peeling paint, reassured her. The air was cold and damp, but the familiar scene was comforting in a way the house was not. She didn’t want to go back, she realised; there was something unnerving about it, as if they were never quite alone there, never quite— Maude glanced at her then stood carefully on the bottom rung of the railing, boosting herself up and looking out to sea – the slow steady swell of it shifting against the piers.

‘Was it all right, then? The party?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Did you know lots of people?’

‘It was fine. Maude . . .’ Nell wasn’t sure how to go on. ‘You’re not – worried about anything, are you?’

‘Such as?’

‘Well it’s an old house we’re staying in, some people might find it a bit – creepy.’

Maude glanced at her, her expression oddly self-satisfied. ‘You’re not scared, are you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Nell. ‘Of course not.’ She sighed. ‘And could you get down off there, please?’

‘Were you really at school with Carolyn?’

‘Yes. I suppose so. When I was growing up here there was only the one secondary school.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Maude bounced up and down a little, testing the strength of the iron rung, which was, Nell noted, peeling and rusted in places. ‘Were you, like, friends?’

‘I don’t remember her,’ said Nell.

‘So, she’s lying.’

‘Oh, I doubt it. I just – it was a long time ago.’ The wind whipped Nell’s hair into her eyes, and she tried to brush it away.

Maude seemed to think about this, still bouncing on the railing as the wind tugged at her jacket. ‘Haven’t you checked? If you want to know about her?’

‘Checked how?’

‘Online. Facebook.’

‘I don’t have an account. Please, Maude, get down.’