She had no idea of the time, she rarely wore a watch and never when working, and she’d become so absorbed in her collection, she’d managed to ignore the chimes of the church clock on the cliff.

She stood up slowly, her limbs had stiffened – sitting cross-legged on damp stone all afternoon had maybe not been such a good idea. The drying ground was right in front of her, in full shadow. She couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to spend time there, if the house was unsettling, then the little patch of land was downright – wrong. Dark and damp, unloved and overgrown – her skin rose in goosebumps just looking at it.

She gathered up her drawing things and took them inside, stacking them on the dining table. On her way back to fetch the glass, she picked up her phone and swiped at the broken screen, hoping for a miracle.

Nothing.

She tried to remember if she’d bothered to insure this phone and where the nearest store might be if she had. They’d have to make a day out of it, she supposed, which might not be a bad thing.

The microwave clock told her it was past five. Chris and Maude would be back soon, she should be thinking about dinner.

She went out and gathered up the glass, scooping it into the washing-up bowl, then deposited the bowl on the draining board. She thought for a moment, then opened the cupboard door and considered the shoe.

There was no way to date it, at least, not to her inexpert eye. It was simple and plain, a product of an age where function was more important than fashion. She picked it up; it must have belonged to a small child, three or four years old, just past the toddling stage. She could imagine sliding the shoe onto a foot, tying the leather lace tight. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the gentle pressure of the child’s foot against her hand.

It felt – familiar.

It was cold in the kitchen, and Nell shivered.

She heard them coming up the steps, Chris and Maude, and had managed to slip the shoe back into place and close the cupboard door by the time they rounded the corner.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ Maude headed straight for the biscuit tin. ‘What’s for dinner? I’m starving.’

‘I hadn’t thought.’

‘Hi, love.’ Chris looked tousled, tired. A whole day with Maude seemed to have taken its toll. He kissed her, absently placing a carrier bag on the counter.

‘Good day?’ Nell asked.

‘It was all right.’ Maude opened the fridge. ‘Can I have some Coke?’

‘Sure,’ said Chris.

‘What’s this?’ Nell opened the bag, ‘A present? For me?’

‘No,’ said Maude, ‘for me.’

There was a box inside the bag.

‘Replacement flip-flops,’ said Chris. ‘Apparently she can’t live without them.’

‘Hey.’ Maude put down her glass. ‘They’re mine.’