‘You’d probably have to go into Wexford. But wait just a minute, I’ll pop out back and have a quick look.’

Elle supposed she was being too picky but she refused to approach any of the town’s businesspeople in the same old clothes she’d been wearing since she got here. She only had her funeral garb, which was hardly suitable, or a collection of casual dresses and shirts, and a couple of pairs of jeans. No, for this she needed to look sharp and in control. Mona or indeed Penny who suggested she borrow one of her gypsy skirts, didn’t understand that in business, appearances were important.

‘Well,’ said Mona. ‘I’ve got these . . .’ She sounded unsure, and Elle could see why when she laid eyes on the suits. One was a horrible old-fashioned polyester trouser suit, embellished on the lapels and sleeves, perfect for an Elvis impersonator maybe, but not exactly suited to her present purposes. The other offering was a mid-length linen skirt and matching jacket in a sort of pale tan, almost beige colour.

‘Let me try that one,’ said Elle.

She put the suit on and stepped out of the fitting room to show Mona.

‘Well, it fits anyway,’ the boutique owner murmured, evidently trying to make the best of a bad situation.

‘I’ll take it.’

‘Really?’ Though Elle could see why Mona was surprised. The suit might fit, but that was about the only thing recommending it. The linen looked a little wrinkled and untidy and the colour completely washed her out. Against it, Elle’s freckles stood out as if someone had drawn them on with crayon. But a bad suit was better than no suit, she reckoned, showing an uncharacteristic lapse in judgement.

Mona charged her well below what the suit was worth. I know desperation when I see it, she thought to herself as Elle left the shop. She shook her head. If only she hadn’t been in such a hurry, she could have ordered in something beautiful.

As it was, that outfit made Elle Harte look a fright.

Work continued apace at the hotel. Ned and Penny were sanding the outside, and Rob was clearing out the attic so that he could get to the roof.

Penny wasn’t surprised by the fury with which he worked. She had some idea of what had happened on the beach that morning, and an even better idea as to how it made him feel. By mid-morning, he was stripped to the waist, gleaming with sweat, his face strained from lifting so much of the ancient furniture down the stairs.

‘Maybe I should give him a hand with some of that stuff,’ Ned suggested. ‘It’s a big job.’