I worry I’ve already blown my shot with him. ‘He’s been talking a lot about his grandma. Roxy. Kind of a weird situation.’

He scoffs. ‘Yeah, I heard he’s been digging about it from Booker. Strange. Strange boy. Strange family.’

‘It all seems kind of crazy, to be honest.’

‘Well, sure. Though Roxy was kind of crazy herself.’

‘What about her?’

There’s a new energy emanating from him – bordering on giddiness, as if he wants to talk. I can’t imagine I’d feel much differently. After thirty years of uncomfortable strained silence, maybe one would actually love to talk. And even with the little I have to piece together at this point, it’s certainly a good story. ‘Real spitfire of a girl. So damn angry all the time.’

‘About what?’

‘Oh, anything. Someone lookin’ at her funny was enough to set her off.’

‘She got in fights?’

‘Oh, did Roxy get in fights. That girl was a walking skirmish. Would probably skewer people with her guitar if it weren’t the thing she loved more than anyone.’

This is working. I do my best to keep the tone conversational – nothing too pointed, nothing too heavy. Actually, he seems to be enjoying talking about it. I laugh. ‘Was there anyone in particular?’

‘I remember she got into it with Lenore a couple of times, over jobs. Never got along.’

I don’t know who Lenore is; I’ll need to find out. ‘But this wasn’t real stuff, right? Like, I bet no one ever talked about really hurting her.’

He swigs his water. ‘Oh, I think the whole of Sandown did, at one point or another. Things were different, though, after – that year no one saw a lick of her …’

‘Before she disappeared, you mean? Why?’

‘Well, she was carrying Sylvia,’ he says, like it’s obvious.

‘Was she ashamed?’

‘I don’t know if she was. Constance was devastated, certainly.’

That must have been her mother’s name.

‘Assume they didn’t get along,’ I say.

‘Oh, no. Constance smacked that girl around all day long.’

My stomach drops. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing that kids ought not to be getting these days. Couple cracks round the head sometimes.’ The steadiness with which he says this unnerves me and I suppose he can tell, based on his throaty chuckle. ‘Not you, huh? Anyway, Lenore took up the regular slot at Indigo, so she wasn’t missin’ her too much. Tell you what, you reminded me of her a little, that first day you came. Same kinda fire. She was all into that, oh, I dunno … feminism and stuff.’ He pauses, looks off elsewhere. ‘I found it, you know.’

‘Found what?’

He nods towards the sea. ‘Her guitar. In the bay.’

I nearly twitch with excitement. ‘Really?’