Mia turned to her and said, ‘Huh?’

But Kate just took Mia’s hand and kept walking.

Kate thought about fresh starts, and pictured the clean white wall in the living room of the holiday house. It was still unclear how much Ed Gilpin really knew about his mother’s actions. If he truly had no idea about the murder, as he was claiming, then why had he covered over his name on the wall? He must have been scared when he heard about John’s murder, scared enough to send him into the house with a brush and a bucket of paint. That was the most likely scenario – and the one that took into account the actual evidence – but it wasn’t the most appealing one.

There was another option. Maybe John was the one who painted the wall, to make a clean slate for the future, for Mia, for Kate. Either way, if, in the end, Kate decided to keep the holiday house – and that was a big if – she decided she’d leave that wall blank.

Further up the beach, they came across a dead seagull on the shoreline. The tide was coming in, retrieving the bird for a sea burial. Further up the beach, live seagulls watched and waited.

Mia stood over the dead bird, studying it from a metre or so away. There was no apparent cause of death. As far as she could tell, it had suffered a mid-air heart attack and dropped out of the sky. Its beak was caked with dry sand. Its eyes were wide and startled.

‘It looks surprised,’ Mia said. Then, in a mock-English accent, gave the bird a voice. ‘I simply cannot believe I’m dead.’

The tide drifted in and reached the seagull’s wing. It lifted, then dropped, lifted, dropped, as if waving.

‘Do seagulls have nests?’ Mia asked.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. I guess they just sort of hang around the sand dunes and huddle together for warmth at night.’

‘Will another seagull be waiting for this one to come home?’

‘I don’t know, monkey.’

‘Should we bury it?’

‘I think we should let the sea take it instead. That feels right, don’t you think?’

‘I guess,’ she said.

On their way back to Elk Harbour, Mia waded in the shallows with her shoes in her hands. Kate took off her sneakers and joined her. The water was icy, but the sky was blue.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

That old cliché about the difficult second album is absolutely true. While writing this book, I spent much of my time thinking it would expose me as the fraud I really am. What kept me going, again and again and again, was you. The reader.