Stan turned to her, face lined and tired, shoulders stooped. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to go. She owns the lease on this place and times are hard enough.’

Gilly didn’t bother pointing out that she knew this already, first-hand, and in ways that he never would. She took the notes he held up – he’d rounded it up to £35, she noticed, two quid bonus for screwing her over – and scooped up her tips without a word.

‘Wait a sec,’ Stan said. ‘That journalist bloke left this for you.’

Gilly turned to see him holding out a small fold of paper. She took it, reading it as she went back into the kitchen to get Ezra’s coat. On it was an address for Toby right there in Newton Dunbar, along with a brief note. If you’re stuck for somewhere to stay, please know you can come here, it said. No strings.

Gilly smiled to herself at that. Of course there were no strings. Even to her it was obvious that he had googly eyes for Rachel. It was kind of sweet. She screwed up the note and threw it in the bin – she didn’t need his help. Not when it would come with the kind of questions he wouldn’t be able to stop himself asking.

Jo was the only one still in the kitchen. Gilly wondered if Stan had told her to make sure she left without taking anything with her that she shouldn’t. She pulled Ezra’s coat from the peg near the back door and put it on.

‘Hey,’ Jo said quietly.

Gilly looked back at her, standing beside the gleaming chrome surface of the pass. Jo picked up a box she’d set on the counter and held it out. It was one of the ones they used for takeaways.

‘Look after yourself, kid,’ Jo said. ‘Think about going home, okay?’

Gilly took the box, nodding. Sure, she’d think about it. She’d think about it and decide that was a hard no. ‘Thanks.’

Outside, Gilly opened the box to find a whole portion of battered fish and chips, still pretty hot. Jo must have cooked it right at the end of service. She wondered if Stan had told her to and decided probably not. The cost on the menu was a good third of Gilly’s wages for the day. She ate as she walked, trying to make it last but stuffing it into her mouth too fast. She hadn’t had hot food since that half-price pasty from the Co-op’s hot cabinet last week, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full meal.

She was gutted at losing the job, but it would have ended anyway when the other girl returned. As it was, with tips she’d earned almost £150 in cash. That was enough to give her a breathing space, some time to work out what to do next. Gilly knew she couldn’t stay in Newton Dunbar for ever, but she liked it here and didn’t want to leave yet. The biggest problem was going to be what to do with her days now. The advantage of her working until after the pub had closed meant that by the time she got back to the shed it was usually almost midnight. No chance of the woman in the cottage – Edie – coming out to do a bit of gardening then. In fact, by that time of night the house had been mostly dark anyway, with her ladyship safely asleep upstairs. During the day, Gilly had hidden any evidence that she’d been in the shed so that even if Edie had gone in there, she’d have been none the wiser. But now… people noticed if you were hanging around not doing much, especially somewhere as small as Newton Dunbar, and if she spent every day in the lighthouse Rachel would start asking questions again.