‘Helen. The teachers always called her Helen, but she preferred Nell. Does that make her arty?’

Evie picked up a knotted length of silver chain. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Not if she was obnoxious about it.’

‘I don’t suppose she was, not really,’ said her mother, ‘no more obnoxious than the rest of us, anyway.’

Evie concentrated on untangling the chain, which proved to be the remains of a silver bracelet that had once held a collection of charms. She remembered it from when she was a kid; there was the bell, and a flower, an anchor, a tiny ship, and a shoe – a ballet slipper. She had the idea that the shoe represented her, although what the other objects signified, she couldn’t say. She shook the chain out; there were gaps where other charms had long since been lost and the catch was missing from one end. ‘This is pretty,’ she said, holding it up, and the bell tinkled gently.

‘That old thing,’ said her mother.

*

Evie’s dad was home later than usual, but he’d at least texted Mum, and the lasagne wasn’t completely ruined by the time they all sat down together. He was an architect and had recently taken on the renovation of some flats in an old building on the West Cliff. It was his first big commission in a few months, this and the prospect of more work to follow, seemed to be worth the price of the long hours and his increasing absences from home.

‘Revision going well?’ he asked Evie.

‘Fine. You know – fine, thanks.’

‘You know you’re going to ace it, don’t you?’

‘If she puts the work in,’ said Carolyn.

Evie wished they could find something else to talk about.

‘Well, she knows that, don’t you, sweetheart? And you?’ He leant across the table, topping up Carolyn’s wine. ‘Good day?’

‘Oh, the same old same old, really.’ Carolyn was wearing a pair of silver earrings that Evie hadn’t seen for a while, not the Clarke Galilee ones, these were heavy silver hoops; nice enough, in Evie’s opinion, but a bit too young for her mother, a bit too ostentatiously cool. ‘We met the new holiday-cottage people.’

‘Which ones?’

‘Elder House, of course.’

‘Ah. Right.’

‘And it turns out that I know them,’ said Carolyn. ‘Well, her. She’s Nell Galilee.’

‘Sorry?’