I smiled guardedly and Dad took a vigorous pull on the cigarette, as if it quenched a thirst.

“Funny, isn’t it?” he went on. “Having such an ordinary conversation at a moment like that?”

I shook my head and drained the prosecco to the last drop. It wasn’t my first drink of the afternoon, which was probably why the ripples of reflected light in the pond were starting to look psychedelic. I took hold of my father’s arm again, as much to keep my balance as to make him stop talking.

“You’d think they would have hesitated, wouldn’t you,” he went on, “before they booked it as a wedding venue? You’d think they’d have had the odd scruple. Or did they just forget?” A cigarette usually mellowed him, but he sounded bitter now.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean anything by it. They’re only second cousins, after all; they’ve probably forgotten it happened here—if they even knew in the first place. Anyway, it’s not the house’s fault that Stella died nearby, and it’s a good few miles from—where they found her.”

“It’s barely a mile.” Dad flicked his cigarette end away. It landed on the surface of the pond with a hiss and floated motionless, like a dead creature. I watched the last grains of smoke dissolve in the hot air and tried to concentrate on not falling over.

“Litterbug,” I said with a nudge, still trying for a lighthearted tone. He made no answer, so I turned away.

One of the guests was emerging into the garden from the cliff path, his hair plastered to his head. He must have been swimming in the sea, and the whiff of saltwater on his clothes made me sit on the low stone wall.

“The sea,” I muttered into my empty glass, feeling hot and sick. I shut my eyes and imagined ice-cold waves lapping at my stomach, darkening my vision, roaring in my ears. There’d been some talk on the coach about skinny-dipping, but I assumed they’d be doing it later, in the drunken darkness, once the formalities were over.

When I opened my eyes, the man was standing at the top of the path, looking back the way he’d come. Nobody else appeared. Perhaps he didn’t belong to the wedding party? He seemed hesitant when one of the waiters approached with a tray of prosecco, and although he took a glass, he just held on to it unhappily and didn’t drink. I wondered whether he’d lost something down on the sand. His feet were bare, so perhaps he’d mislaid his shoes.

The man turned and caught me looking, so I pretended to fiddle with the clasp on my bracelet. He stared at me for a long time before draining his glass and walking away.

“Who was that?” Dad appeared at my elbow and I shrugged. The best man came to the top of the steps and waved his arms at us: the wedding dinner was about to be served, and would we please make our way to the canopy? I waved back. Dad thrust his hands in his pockets and made a little moaning noise, like a child on the verge of tears. He began rustling through the cigarette packet for a second cigarette. If I didn’t drag him off he’d stand by the pond all evening, hollowing out his lungs and experimenting with swear words.