When Claire got back to her parents’ house, she discovered a missed call and a message from Jeff. She rarely took her phone to the beach because the signal was patchy. She hoped Jeff wasn’t calling her into work again, especially after what had happened at Galen Cottage. She’d decided not to say anything to him about it.

‘That’s odd.’

‘What is, love?’ Shona had just come back from the beach and was beating the sand from her sandals on the doorstep. Patrick had insisted on checking on the store of feed for the few goats they owned even though she’d told him they still had plenty. She tolerated these aberrations; little routine errands that made him feel useful when, in reality, Shona had everything under control. But it was having to be in control that was wearing her out.

‘Jeff working on a Sunday, that’s what…’ She trailed off, listening to the message.

Claire hung up, glancing out of the window to see if Patrick was coming back. ‘Very odd,’ she said slowly, mulling over what she’d just heard. ‘Mum, apparently someone’s already interested in buying the farm.’

Shona was making tea but stopped. She stared at Claire.

‘Some developer is willing to offer full price on condition it’s taken off the market immediately.’ Claire frowned, pacing about. The details hadn’t even gone live. It didn’t make sense. ‘Have you had a viewing you’ve not told me about, Mum?’ Surely, she wouldn’t do that without telling Patrick, or at least her.

Shona shook her head and turned to fill the kettle. Claire could see her cheeks were tinged pink, her jaw tight. ‘No viewings. But I did speak to Jeff a couple of days ago,’ she said finally. ‘It was agreed he’d try some low-level marketing. I didn’t want to worry—’

‘It was agreed?’ Claire was shocked. ‘Dad doesn’t know, does he?’ Claire folded her arms tightly, not sure who to feel angrier with – her mother, Jeff, or this mysterious developer. She settled on all three.

‘I’m sorry,’ Shona said quietly. She put the kettle on the hotplate and sat down, her usually straight back bent and her head in her hands. ‘I don’t want to let Trevellin go any more than you or Dad, love. It feels as if I’m selling my own child, but I wanted Jeff to see if there was any initial interest. It seems there is.’

‘It’s more than interest by the sound of it,’ Claire said, but then levelled her voice. ‘He said this supposed buyer isn’t local.’ If she’d not taken time off work, she could have checked him out properly herself. ‘Jeff’s sending out a photographer urgently, to get pictures for this developer, whoever he is. He said if it comes to nothing, the shots can still be used in the brochure.’ She’d never heard of anyone making an offer without even viewing a property. Something didn’t add up. ‘I’ll call the office tomorrow. It doesn’t sound like Jeff’s on top of this.’

‘He was just being helpful, love,’ Shona said in a quiet voice. ‘And I think external pictures only at this stage, don’t you?’

Claire frowned. The implication was clear – her mother didn’t want Patrick finding out. She sat down next to her, taking her hands, unknotting them gently. ‘You know, there’s a bungalow with estuary views for sale in Padstow. Dad could still fish and go off on his walks. His friends would be near.’

‘A bungalow.’ Shona blinked slowly. ‘That sounds small and modern.’

‘It’s been on the market a couple of months. I could take you and Dad up to see it next week, if you like. The owners are lovely and…’

Shona was suddenly in tears – a full-blown, bottled-up meltdown that had clearly been building. Claire pulled her into her arms, not surprised by the depth of her release, but rather that she had one at all. Shona was, as everyone knew, the rock in the Lucas family.

‘Oh, Mum,’ she said. ‘It’ll be OK. Dad’s getting good treatment now and soon you’ll have a lovely new home and…’ She trailed off.

Shona sniffed, squeezing Claire’s hand in return. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do without you living so close.’ She reached across the table for a tissue. ‘And I know everyone’s thinking what if Lenni—’

‘Who the hell is that outside taking photos of my property?’ Patrick burst in through the back door, brandishing his walking stick back out towards the courtyard. He was red-faced, looking as if he was about to commit murder. He lunged back outside again, tripping on the step which only fuelled his rage. Claire went after him, but he pulled away from her as she tried to calm him.

‘Get out of here now or I’ll get my shotgun!’ Patrick was shaking to the core, every cell in his body on fire. He thumped his stick against the wall, making the young man in the courtyard flinch. ‘Go on, be gone with you!’ His breaths were shallow and rasping, making his cheeks turn purple with effort. Claire noticed the fleeting confusion on his face, as if for a second he didn’t know why he was yelling. She hadn’t seen him this mad in a long time.

Shona took hold of his arm, but he yanked himself away from her too. ‘Darling, calm down.’ He was shaking with anger.

‘I’m calling the police!’ he shouted, spit frothing in the corners of his mouth. He marched up to the man, who retreated with every step Patrick took. ‘Get the hell off my property!’ Patrick’s eyes bulged as he tried to make his body big and intimidating, like it once was.

‘Your blood pressure, darling,’ Shona implored, putting her arm around him. Again, he shrugged her off. ‘Please, calm down. You’ll have a stroke if you carry on like this.’

‘Look, you’d better go,’ Claire said to the pale-faced man who had a camera slung around his neck. For a moment, he stood completely frozen, wide-eyed and holding Patrick’s stare before hurriedly getting into his car. The wheels spun in the gravel as he sped off.

‘I bloody well found him up in the woods near the old cottage,’ he said, turning back to them, his shoulders heaving up and down. ‘He was taking photographs of the house from up there, so I chased him back down.’ Patrick seethed through shallow breaths. ‘He’d left the gate open and the goats had bloody well got out. How dare he!’ He clutched his chest, panting out short breaths. His forehead was covered in sweat.

‘Oh, Dad,’ Claire said, taking his elbow and guiding him back inside. ‘It’s fine, it’s all absolutely fine.’ She silently cursed Jeff as she led her father back inside to his armchair. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal and Claire noticed the frown forming, the dazed look in his eyes as if he was trying to refocus on life. Like he was waking up from a bad dream, not quite sure where he was or what had happened.

‘He’s gone now, Dad,’ Claire said, watching Shona count out his pills. She hated that they were lying to him. He wasn’t a child that needed the truth disguising and neither was he anything less than the intelligent man she’d always known. He had a right to know what was going on. ‘Look, Dad,’ she said, catching Shona’s eye. ‘That man was a photographer from the agents. He wasn’t snooping. He was taking some photographs to send to someone who might be interested in buying the farm.’

Patrick stared first at Claire and then at Shona, as though he had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Are we moving?’ he asked, quite calmly.

‘There’s a bungalow,’ Claire went on. ‘It overlooks the estuary.’

Patrick picked up the newspaper, though she could tell he wasn’t really reading it. She noticed his hands were red and chafed, and the skin on his cheeks thin and veined. Seeing him nearly every day, she’d not been aware of him growing old, but truth was, after a lifetime of working on the farm, he’d been this weathered for years.

‘I should have bloody thumped him,’ Patrick said, glancing at the back door, suddenly remembering again.

The only time Claire ever recalled her father getting violent, exploding like a volcano, was when the detective handling Lenni’s case came to give them a three-month update. An update which consisted of absolutely nothing. There were no new leads, no extra evidence, and no fresh witnesses had come forward despite the television appeals. Patrick asked him what the hell they’d been doing, why they weren’t finding his daughter.

The detective stated quite calmly that he believed Lenni was most likely dead, that unless new leads came to light it wouldn’t be much longer until the investigation was scaled back. It was then that Patrick slowly pulled back his huge right fist and landed a sharp punch right on the detective’s nose.