‘So, when’s the big opening?’ Claire was scraping seaweed and barnacles off what felt like a never-ending supply of mussels.

‘All being well, mid-September.’ Nick glanced across at her, his stomach churning at the thought. Things in his life were actually far from being well. ‘I’m banking on some pre-opening trade reviews before Christmas. And I’ve already got a couple of corporate parties booked for December.’

‘That’s really great, Nick,’ Claire said, catching his eye. ‘Remember how we used to play restaurants when we were kids? You cooked all kinds of weird stuff over a campfire. I’m not sure all of it was edible.’ She sluiced off another batch of mussels. ‘Who’d have thought that you’d end up with your own restaurant for real?’

‘My speciality was worm and leaf soup with a side of boiled garden snails, wasn’t it?’

‘You actually used to try to make us eat it.’ Claire laughed, looking over at him again. ‘Ouch!’ She flinched, dropping the knife into the sink.

‘Let me see that.’ Nick took Claire’s hand, gently holding her forefinger under the tap. ‘Amy, do you know where Grandma keeps the plasters?’ he said over his shoulder.

‘Are you a doctor like Daddy?’ Amy asked, running up with a little box. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of blood.

‘No, I’m not like Daddy,’ Nick replied, not taking his eyes off Claire. He dabbed lightly at the wound with kitchen paper, telling her to hold it tightly in place while he unwrapped the plaster. Amy ran off again as he peeled it around the wound.

‘Thanks, Nick,’ Claire said, but he didn’t let go of her finger. When she looked at her hand again, it was enveloped by his. She quickly pulled away. ‘I’ll… I’ll set the table then, seeing as I’ve made myself useless at the sink.’

The kitchen was suddenly filled with noise and chatter, and Claire was grateful for the reprieve. Shona and Patrick came inside following their evening stroll around the garden, but Patrick was making noises about checking the paddock gates again, wanting to make sure there were no more intruders.

‘It’s all secure, Pat. There’s no need.’ Shona didn’t want him wandering off again.

Greta arrived next, offering to help with the meal. ‘I can’t guarantee I won’t be more of hindrance, though,’ she said, rubbing her bump. ‘I’ve been getting Braxton Hicks contractions all day.’

‘You just sit down and relax. It’s all under control,’ Claire said, but her father thought she was talking to him and he mumbled something about not being a child, about not being mollycoddled.

‘I’ve just had a worrying time with Dad again,’ Shona confided to Claire when he was out of the room. ‘He got really confused in the garden. He was certain we were out searching for…’ She made an expression that Claire knew only too well. She thought back to when he really had been scouring the woods and fields, when they’d all filled those early days with frantic and fruitless searches.

Without fail for the first six months, Patrick set off at dawn, taking a pack of supplies with him, tirelessly going over and over old ground. The familiar landscape of the wood, their fields and those of the surrounding farms eventually transformed into a harsh terrain that no one apart from Patrick wanted to set foot on – the land that had taken Lenni, seemingly swallowing her up. Eventually, his searches dwindled to once every couple of days, then maybe only a couple of times a week. Sometimes he’d be out looking when the sun had set, as if Lenni might only reveal herself after dark.

Patrick came back into the kitchen, staring at Greta as if he had no idea who she was. ‘You’re pregnant,’ he said.

‘Yes, I am,’ Greta replied in her charming way. She smoothed her hands over her bump. ‘We’re having twins. They’ll be born within the next month.’

‘We?’ Patrick’s eyes sparkled with the puzzle, his mind forcing together pieces that wouldn’t quite fit. ‘One word of advice for you, then. Don’t give birth while you’re in this house.’

‘I’ll try not to,’ she said with a laugh. ‘They’re not due just yet.’

‘It’s not a lucky house for children.’

Greta was about to reply but the back door burst open and Maggie blustered in. ‘Has anyone seen Rain?’ She was breathless and pink-cheeked. ‘Is she with Marcus?’

‘Mags, what’s wrong? Are you OK?’ Claire placed a hand on her arm. ‘Marcus is still up at our house in his room, but I know he’s alone.’

Maggie came up close to Claire. ‘I’m a bit worried.’

‘But you said yourself she’s always going off, that she can look after herself.’

‘I just bumped into that girl they were with earlier, Marcus’s friend from the village. The one with glasses.’

‘Pip?’

‘Yes, Pip. She said that Rain didn’t come back up from the beach with them. Apparently, she’d gone off earlier. Alone.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Claire said, despite the small prick of concern she felt.

‘If it was three in the morning and I hadn’t heard from her, I wouldn’t be too concerned. She goes out at night with her sensible head on, if you know what I mean.’ Maggie frowned, checking her phone.

‘And she doesn’t have it on during the day?’

‘Not exactly. It’s just that… she seemed a bit odd this morning. A bit distracted. Did you notice?’

‘She’d been up partying all night, don’t forget. She was probably tired.’

‘That’s not what’s bothering me. There’s simply nothing for Rain to go off alone for around here. If there was a shopping mall nearby, I’d say she’d have gone there.’ Maggie gripped Claire’s arm.

‘Maybe she’s gone for a swim or a walk or taken a bus to Newquay?’

‘Rain on a bus? I don’t think so.’

‘Have you not spotted the good-looking lad who runs the surf shop yet?’ Claire said, laughing, but her concern was still growing. ‘She’s probably having a one-to-one demonstration of all the latest boards as we speak.’

Maggie offered a grateful smile and glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll give her until nine, then I’m going out to look.’

Claire swallowed and glanced at the kitchen clock. She hadn’t realised it was seven-thirty already. The mussels had taken ages to prepare. ‘Let’s make it sooner,’ Claire suggested. ‘And I’ll come with you.’ She gave her a gentle squeeze and then excused herself. She went straight up to the Old Stables and headed for Marcus’s room.

‘What?’ he called out when she knocked on his door. She went in. ‘Don’t yell, Mum, I’ll tidy it tomorrow.’ Marcus was lying on his bed texting.

‘When did you last see Rain, love?’ She leant on the door frame.

Marcus shrugged. ‘On the beach this afternoon?’ It was more a question than an answer. Claire noticed his cheeks redden. ‘She left before us.’ His phone buzzed, and he read the message.

‘What time was that?’

‘Dunno. About three. Maybe five-ish.’ He tapped a speedy reply.

‘Marcus, would you give me your attention for a moment? Rain’s not come back to the farm yet and Maggie’s getting worried.’

Marcus laughed. ‘You mean you’re getting worried, Mum.’ He looked down at his phone again, finishing his text. ‘Actually, I think she said she was going off to the shop.’ He narrowed his eyes in thought. ‘Yeah, that was it. She said she wanted an ice cream or something.’

‘An ice cream?’ The room around her suddenly flashed from light to dark. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Think so,’ Marcus said, picking up his phone again when it pinged. ‘What’s the big deal?’