The conversation had wound back to babies and children, understandably so with Greta present, but it was the last thing Nick wanted to hear about.

‘I’m off in search of mussels to cook later,’ he said, getting up off the sand. ‘Anyone coming?’ He’d briefly hoped Claire would join him. He liked the idea of them scrambling about on the rocks together as they’d done as kids, but she glanced up, declining politely before returning to her chat with Jason and Greta.

‘I’d come with you, son,’ Patrick said. ‘But I’d be a liability.’ His eyes flickered with something, as though the hot sun was loosening old memories. Nick couldn’t help noticing the look Jason shot his father when he called him son.

His own father lived in Liverpool now with Nick’s much older sister. He didn’t see them very often. Growing up, his parents had been good to him, but were nowhere near as exciting as Patrick. His father had worked in the council offices and his mother had been a waitress. It was many hours waiting around in the restaurant kitchen for his mother to finish her shift that had sparked his love of food and cooking.

Nick pulled on his T-shirt and started off for the rocky section of beach behind them. The charcoal-coloured slate spotted with barnacles stood out against the fine buff sand. Occasionally, he regretted moving to London, so far away from the coastline that had once made him wonder if his blood was part seawater. So far away from everything he loved.

Nick waved at the teenagers, who’d chosen to sit away from the adults and look after Amy. Earlier, he’d watched as Marcus and several of his friends, plus a rather subdued-looking Rain, had struggled down onto the beach armed with surfboards, a blow-up boat, towels and a cricket bat. He’d stared at Rain too long, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. She was different in every way to Isobel, but his aching heart made him watch her as she spread out her towel.

Nick’s feet smarted as the hot rocks dug into his soles. But ignoring the pain was easy compared to the far greater pain in his heart. The day he’d discovered his daughter’s body splayed out on the hallway floor was the end of everything good in his life. On top of his and Jess’s grief, the police fleetingly considered a ghastly scenario. That someone had even thought he’d hurt their daughter was horrendous.

He shook open the plastic bag that he’d brought up from the picnic and pulled some mussels off the rocks. The slate cliffs rose imposing and dark behind, and the shingle path that led to the clifftop track was not far to his left. It seemed less daunting than he remembered, although still not an easy climb. As kids, the shale had made it three steps forward, two back. Everything was simple then. Everything linear – black or white, good or bad. These days, his mind was pickled with bereavement, divorce, financial worries, builders, and all the while trying to remain creative with his cooking. It was nibbling at his sanity, eating away at his brain on a daily basis. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before he cracked. He just wanted Isobel back.

‘Hey,’ a voice called out. Nick glanced up, looking around, not knowing where it was coming from. ‘Up here.’ Halfway up the shingle track, he spotted Rain. She was waving at him with a small smile, but then her smile dropped away. She’d put on her shorts but was just wearing a bikini top above. He tried not to see Isobel everywhere he looked.

‘Careful up there,’ Nick called back. ‘It’s steep.’ He held his breath as she slid back down the scree a few feet, lunging for a nearby rock. She missed the handhold and ended up dropping further down on her bottom. In a moment she was standing again, brushing herself down, signalling to Nick with a thumbs up that she was fine.

‘Hang on,’ he called out, deciding it wasn’t safe. ‘I’ll come and help you.’ He left the bag of mussels dangling in a rock pool and started off down to the sand. As he leapt across the rocks, taking the safest but longest way around, a jut of cliff momentarily obscured Rain from view. When he finally got to the bottom of the shingle slope, she was nowhere to be seen. He looked about, calling her name and feeling slightly annoyed that she hadn’t waited for him. She’d either got to the top all by herself or abandoned the idea completely and decided to take the long, sensible route along the beach. He thought that was probably the more likely, though something compelled him to go and find her.