‘Of course, no problem at all. I will head over in the boat right away. Should be with you in ten.’

‘That’s great, thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome.’ She ends the call.

Alice looks across at Leon, and lets out a breath. ‘Well, she seems nice enough.’

Leon takes hold of her hand, and furrows his forehead. ‘Are you OK? You were dreaming back there. Crying out—’

‘A bit nervous, I guess, but fine. Honestly.’ Her eyes skitter towards the house on the cliff edge once more. She thinks of her sculpture, the picture Faith sent of the man who looks so like her dad, the photo that was sent to her, the receipt for a restaurant in Dunwold she found in the loft. Suddenly the sirens she heard on the A1 earlier seem to ring in her ears – loud and piercing – and tears she can’t quite explain burn behind her eyes. Doubts rise, and she hears her father’s voice in her subconscious.

‘You shouldn’t have come, Alice. I told you to never come back. Go home. Go home now.’

PART TWO

‘I am older than you, and must know better.’

Lewis Carroll

Chapter 10

Halloween Weekend 2019

Alice

A powerboat propels through the dark sea, a stream of white surf trailing.

‘They’re on their way.’ Leon climbs from the car, opens the boot, and grabs their holdalls.

Alice takes a deep breath, gets out too, and together – avoiding the many puddles – they head down a slope towards a small jetty lit by swaying lanterns.

‘Welcome,’ a portly woman, who looks to be in her fifties, calls over the wind. Waving from the boat, arm swishing to and fro, like a windscreen wiper. She’s wearing a beanie and sturdy anorak, a scarf wrapped around the lower part of her face. She slows the boat down and aims it towards the jetty, cutting the engine, though leaving the lights on. She climbs out, pulling the mooring rope hard so the white vessel rattles against the wooden planks of the jetty. The sea gurgles and splashes. ‘I’m Christine, Manager of Flynn Hotel,’ she says, pulling the scarf from her face, and holding out her hand.

‘We’re sorry we’re later than expected,’ Alice says as she shakes the woman’s hand. ‘There was an accident, and—’

‘No worries at all; that’s what the boat is for. Have you come far?’

‘Whitby.’

After shaking Leon’s hand, Christine rubs her hands together as though to warm them up, despite her gloves. ‘Lovely place, Whitby,’ she says, grabbing their holdalls and putting them in the back of the boat.

Once they are all safely on board, Christine starts the engine once more. ‘You’ll have to bear with me,’ she says, as they pull out from the jetty. ‘I only started working at the hotel on Thursday – the day before we opened, in fact.’