‘You found all this?’ he demanded.

‘I used to have an apartment at the university,’ she told him. ‘Small. My parents left me this place and I came here at weekends. I’m a marine biologist and we…I used the cottage as an occasional base for research. Zoe’s parents were what you might call itinerant. They had a camper van and most of what they owned was destroyed in the accident. So Zoe and I scrounged what we could find, we made a bit and we filled the rest by beachcombing.’ She met his gaze full on, defying him to deny her next assertion. ‘Zoe and I are the best beachcombers in the world.’

‘I can see you are,’ he said. He paused. ‘You’re a marine biologist?’

‘Yes.’ She faltered and tried for a recovery. ‘Very part-time until Zoe goes to school.’

‘Zoe doesn’t go to school?’

‘I home-school her here at the moment.’

‘So meanwhile you’re living off Christos’s life insurance.’

She’d opened the refrigerator and was lifting out salad ingredients. She froze.

She didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. If she had he might have got lettuce square in the middle of his face. What was he suggesting?

‘That’s right,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m ripping Zoe off for every cent I can get.’

‘I didn’t mean…’

‘I’m very sure you did mean.’ Finally she turned, carefully placing the lettuce out of throwing range. ‘What is it you want of us, Mr Whoever-The-Hell-You-Are, because there’s no way I’m calling you Prince. I don’t know why you’re here but don’t you dare imply I’m acting dishonestly. Don’t you dare.’

‘I already did,’ he said, holding his hands up as if in surrender. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I.’

The door swung open. Zoe appeared, looking wary. The little girl was in clean T-shirt and shorts. Her hair was a tangle of dark, wet curls. She was far too thin, Elsa thought, trying to see her dispassionately through Stefanos’s eyes.

She was so scarred. The burns had been to almost fifty per cent of her body, and twenty per cent of those had been full thickness. She’d had graft after graft. Thankfully her face was almost untouched but her skinny little legs looked almost like patchwork. Her left arm still needed work-her left hand was missing its little finger-and there was deep scarring under her chin.