‘Do you remember Jacob? He was there every morning just like us.’ She laughed. ‘He was a man of very few words but many fish.’

Gran turned her head towards her.

‘I wonder if he’s still alive. I always thought he was ancient, but I saw him in the village a few years ago and he hadn’t changed. I guess the sea had hardened his face early on and he hadn’t aged.’

She looked down. Gran’s eyes were open.

‘Morning.’ Lottie beamed.

‘Yes.’ Gran’s voice was more of a croak.

Her heart lifted. ‘I love you.’

Gran’s hand came out from under the covers and she grabbed Lottie’s. ‘Forgive me.’

She pulled a face. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’

Gran shook her head and lowered her eyes, so Lottie couldn’t read her expression.

‘Forgive me. I had no choice.’

‘You’ve done nothing to forgive.’ Lottie frowned. ‘You’ve been everything for me.’

She shook her head and she fought for breath.

‘Gran, I forgive you whatever you think you’ve done. I love you and nothing will change that, ever.’

She sighed. ‘Thank you.’ Her eyes closed and in moments she was asleep again. Lottie kissed her forehead and walked to the window. Below, Gramps hobbled around the path circling the lawn. He stopped every few feet and gazed out at the sea. She couldn’t blame him. In the distance a gaff-rigged bark bobbed on the swell. The scene was timeless. Only the tower on Gribben Head dated it. She remembered Gramps telling her its history – that had been built in 1832 to help boats distinguish Gribben Head from Dodman Point. Lottie had felt it looked like a stick of rock stuck into the hill. This had made Gramps laugh because he’d thought it looked like a broken candy cane.

Hearing footsteps, she turned and put the cup on the table. Lottie knew it was her mother. She hoped she was wrong, and that a confrontation wasn’t about to happen. But reading her mother’s face, it wore not a daughter’s concern, but the expression of the award-winning investigative reporter who left no stone unturned until she knew the truth. She’d seen it too many times. Lying was not an option with her mother. Lottie knew because she’d tried. She couldn’t get away with it, not even by omission.

She held her finger to her lips and her mother stopped in her tracks, holding the box in front of her. For a moment Lottie saw her confusion but that didn’t last long. She put the box on the bed and walked to Lottie.

‘How is she?’ her mother asked in hushed tones.

‘She’s just nodded off.’

‘I’ll wait.’ She sank into the armchair by the window. It was where Gran would normally sit and read in the morning. Gramps would bring up a tray of tea and toast as he had today, and he would read the paper in his chair. Lottie looked for him below again, but he was not in front of the house anymore.