‘That’s right.’ Roger nodded. ‘There was an article about him in the local paper. And they found even older stuff too. Iron Age, I think it was, or Bronze Age or something. Are you still thinking of doing something archaeological for your project, Allie?’ He smiled at his daughter.

‘Might.’ Her sudden burst of enthusiasm had apparently run its course. She sat down again and spread her elbows, scattering knives and forks. Patrick frowned, but he said nothing. He had learned a long time ago that a comment from him would produce a tirade of abuse from his sister which would upset everyone and end up with the whole meal being spoiled. It had happened before too often.

‘I’m going to excavate the dune.’ Alison’s sudden announcement stopped Roger’s hand in mid air as he poured the wine.

‘That sounds a bit ambitious, old girl,’ he said cautiously. ‘There would be a lot of hard digging and you might not find anything.’

‘I found something before.’

‘In the same place?’ Greg looked across at her, disbelieving. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘None of your business.’ Alison reached for a glass of wine which left Patrick without one.

‘Hey, that’s mine – ’

‘Pour yourself one.’ When neither parent said anything she raised the glass defiantly to her lips and took a sip.

‘What did you find, Allie?’ Roger’s voice took on the conciliatory tone he often used with his daughter – soft, persuasive, almost pleading.

‘I’ll show you.’ She rose to her feet, and, her glass still in her hand, trailed towards the staircase which led from the living room behind the door in the corner by the inglenook.

‘There’s loads of books on archaeology in her room,’ Patrick put in in an undertone when she was out of earshot.

‘You haven’t been in there again.’ Diana was exasperated. ‘You know she doesn’t like it – ’

‘She nicked my Aran sweater. I needed it.’ Patrick’s mouth settled in a hard line, exactly like his sister’s as Alison reappeared with a shoe box in her hand.