It was vivid green-yellow like a peridot, but with the pitted finish of the tumbling sea. She rolled it between her thumb and forefingers before holding it up to the sky. ‘Why do you doubt it?’

He laughed. ‘I told you what I thought earlier.’

Frowning, she said, ‘Yes, you did but people do kill people . . . all the time.’ She bent to pick up a mussel shell and placed the glass where the animal would have been, picturing a pendant.

‘Can’t argue with that.’ He began walking along the water’s edge. She followed, studying his footprints in the sand. The angle of the sun casting shadows in the indents.

‘Look, the more I think about it, I know Gran, she wouldn’t say it unless it was true.’ But why would she say anything at all? Whatever happened, happened a long time ago. Lottie stopped walking. Forgiveness.

‘Has she always told the truth?’ He threw a rock into the water.

She took a deep breath. ‘No, I’m sure she didn’t and it’s clear Gran has lied to Mum about George, and that raises questions.’ She was certain that the words in the diary were written because her mother was in pain and kids always think they are somehow at fault, be it divorce, a death or lack of a father, as in Lottie’s own case. ‘Why would she lie when she was dying?’

‘Can’t answer that.’

She glanced at her watch and turned towards the house. This wasn’t important now. She wanted to be with Gran. ‘See you later.’ She marched to the steps and she didn’t turn around when she heard Alex behind her. Out of breath when she reached the hallway, she stopped. Her mother was facing Gramps. Silence hung in the air. Lottie looked between the two of them.

‘You killed my father.’ Her mother glared at Gramps. The round table stood between them.

‘Mum!’

‘He was here that weekend,’ she huffed. ‘The police records show his statement.’

‘How the hell did you get access to that on a weekend?’ Alex asked, coming to stand beside Lottie.

She sent him one of her looks. Lottie knew her mother hadn’t reached this point in her journalistic career without making contacts or by taking no for an answer. But she couldn’t work miracles.

‘Just because Gramps was here didn’t mean he killed your father.’

‘They lied.’ Mum placed her clenched hand onto the table. ‘My mother and George both lied.’

Lottie looked at Gramps, who wobbled while his cane remained steady.

‘People lie all the time.’ Alex stepped forward.

The telephone rang.

‘Do something useful and answer it.’ Her mother looked at Alex before taking another step towards Gramps. Lottie darted between them and placed a hand on her mother’s arm.