She shook her head. ‘It’s weird, unless Gran has a really crap memory, which she hasn’t.’

‘You’d better tell me now as this is all too cryptic.’ He caught up with her.

‘Well, Gran had said she didn’t meet Gramps until 1975 in Cairo, but looking through an old notebook listing all her entertaining, George Russell stayed here the weekend my grandfather died in 1962.’

He ran his hand through his hair then looked out to the bay. ‘Odd, but have you considered that it might be a different George Russell?’ He tilted his head. ‘George Russell is not exactly like Archibald Guswinger, is it?’

‘Archibald Guswinger? Where on earth did you come up with that name?’

‘God only knows.’ He smiled. ‘George Russell isn’t John Smith, either, but there must be many people bearing that name, I would think.’

‘True.’ She looked at him and she wished he was wearing sunglasses because his hazel eyes were bewitching. The last thing she needed was to fall under his spell again, so she removed herself from the temptation and walked into the house.

In the kitchen, she washed the lettuce and other vegetables she’d found on the table. Alex must have brought them in. Ripping the lettuce apart she flung it into the salad bowl. If she could kick something or someone, she would but that wouldn’t help anything or anyone. There was nothing she could do but make food and be here. She couldn’t even go grocery shopping, thanks to Paul. Her hands were tied, and she hated it.

‘What’s for lunch?’ Her mother stood in the doorway looking a bit washed out.

‘Who is with Gran?’ Lottie asked.

She picked up a piece of carrot. ‘The nurse called back in and is having a chat with George.’

‘Oh.’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’ The full strength of her stare landed on Lottie. This was something she’d learned to avoid as much as possible. Being under her mother’s radar was best practice and essential at the moment.

‘Thought the salad bowl made it obvious.’

Her mother squinted into the bowl. ‘Anything other than lettuce and carrot?’

‘Not at the moment.’

Her mother pulled open the fridge. ‘Why haven’t you gone shopping?’

Truth or lie? Looking at her expression it was a hard choice. Maybe something halfway in between. ‘Haven’t had a chance yet.’ Lottie sliced a tomato. ‘Why don’t you do it while I’m doing this?’ Her mother hated cooking, so this might work.

‘I don’t know what to buy.’

Lottie dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. ‘Here’s a list.’

She grimaced as she read it. Lottie widened her stance ready for a fight.

‘OK, anything else?’

‘More coffee, maybe.’