Obviously Juno had to live by the sea, too. A couple doors down from Linda’s stood a house that immediately caught her eye on that first morning. It was in much better shape than Linda’s place and a lot bigger, with beautiful stained-glass borders on the windows and doors, a massive, spotlessly white veranda on stilts and a glass cupola in the roof. It was also occupied, but Juno wasn’t worried about that. It would hardly be a problem.

At lunchtime that day a cab pulled up outside the house to take Mr and Mrs Forsythe, a retired couple and the owners of Juno’s future home, to the port and the first of several long cruises that were to keep them out of the country, any country, for quite a while. It would be over a year before Mrs Forsythe would stand on her threshold again and look in wonder at her cases, which she’d started packing that day long ago intending to leave her husband, to find halfway through that they were not only speaking to each other but actually agreeing on something for the first time in decades. Funny that it should’ve been a cruise they’d agreed on, since a loathing of the mere idea had been one of the few things they’d ever shared. Mrs Forsythe would feel a divorce coming on as strong as her husband had been to that tart of a cabin hostess.