‘Thanks for letting me know. That’s excellent news,’ Claire said, hanging up. She gave Jeff a thumbs up. ‘Gary and Eleanor offered on Cliff Lodge. Guess how much?’ She couldn’t help the smile.

‘Twenty grand under asking?’

‘Nope.’ Claire stood, hands on hips. ‘Full price,’ she squealed, making a silly face.

She was well on target for an excellent month now, despite the slow start. Halfway through July and she’d streaked ahead of the others in what was usually a quiet time. ‘They’re cash buyers too. I must ring the owner.’

Claire settled back at her desk and made the necessary calls. Of course the vendor was delighted and solicitors were instructed to set the grinding wheels of paperwork in motion next week. Nothing else would happen this late on a Friday.

‘Such a great start to what is going to be a fabulous few days,’ she said to anyone who was listening. She stretched back in her chair, glancing at her watch. It was almost time to go.

‘Sorry?’ Jeff looked up from his computer.

‘You haven’t forgotten, haven’t you?’

‘Forgotten what?’

‘My week off,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ve got guests coming to stay, remember? I’ll pop in for a couple of hours here and there if you need me, but that’s all.’

‘Yes, yes, of course I remember,’ he replied.

‘Don’t let the place fall apart while I’m away,’ she said, winking and scrolling through her inbox to answer a few emails.

‘Don’t worry, all is safe with me.’ He gave her a wink back, tucking his shirt in and straightening his tie.

The agency was well respected locally. Located in one of the oldest buildings in Porthmarryn, it boasted an interior that would take even English Heritage’s breath away. From the limewash colours to the original quarry tiles, the bent oak beams straddling the ceiling of what used to be the baker’s shop, and the old oven where Claire kept a stash of handmade local chocolates to offer customers, they were one of the most prestigious agencies in the area.

‘Hello, Greene & Galloway, Claire speaking.’ She made a face, glancing at Jeff as he prised open the heavy cast iron door of the oven, taking out a truffle. He popped it in his mouth.

‘Hello?’ Claire frowned and held the handset away, staring at it. ‘Hello, how may I help you?’ She shrugged and hung up. ‘That’s the third one today,’ she said, puzzled.

‘We get those annoying spam calls at home. They make Marion hopping mad,’ Jeff said with his mouth full. ‘But really, you have fun next week, Claire. I’ve arranged for Janie to work extra hours, so we’ll manage.’

‘They’re not spam calls,’ Claire said thoughtfully. ‘There’s just no one there.’ There’d been a lull for a couple of weeks, but in the last day or so they’d begun again. No one ever said anything, but occasionally she’d heard breathing, the sound of a car in the background and once, the wail of a child.

She wondered whether to call the police. Would they think them significant? She guessed they wouldn’t, not after all this time.

‘Everything’s up to date,’ Claire said an hour later. She double-checked a pile of papers, the draft sale particulars for Trevellin Farm included. Her parents would be sent a copy soon. She wasn’t in any rush.

‘Right, I’m off.’ Jason and Greta were due at six and she wanted to get started on preparing dinner. She went through to the office’s little kitchen and removed a package from the fridge. ‘Fresh squid,’ she said on the way out, holding up her purchase from the fishmonger’s earlier. ‘Jason’s favourite.’

Jeff wrinkled his nose, giving her a brief hug.

‘Remember the viewing tomorrow morning,’ she said. ‘It’s important.’ She slung her bag over her shoulder and left the office. Outside the air was humid and heavy with the scent of the harbour. It caused her heart to skip as she walked to her car, and as she drove off she made a mental checklist, ensuring she’d got everything for the meal. She didn’t want to have to dash out later – tonight was important. She wanted to talk to Jason about reconciling with their father. It was time to let the past go.

By 4.45 p.m. Claire had picked up Amy, driven home, fed Russ and bribed Marcus to take him for a walk. She set out all the ingredients needed and made herself a cup of tea. When she saw the telephone answerphone light flashing, she pressed the button in passing. There were messages from the window cleaner, the local garage about an MOT, and Greta asking if there was anything she could pick up on the way. Then Claire stumbled back against the kitchen wall, shaking as she heard the final message. She covered her face with her hands, feeling sick and disgusted.

‘What’s up, love? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Callum had just come in. He took her gently by the shoulders. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said quietly, gathering herself. She pushed past him, pressing the delete button over and over until the vile message had gone away. She instantly regretted doing so, although nothing could erase the words from her mind.