Three days earlier, Nora had been in her city flat, halfway through answering work emails, when her aunt Maggie called just after dawn. Maggie rarely phoned before breakfast. When Nora heard the strain in her voice, she knew at once that something from home had gone wrong again.
At first, she thought there had been an accident in the village, some ordinary kind of bad news involving weather, age, or drink. But Maggie said the sea had been seen “acting strange” near the reef again, and that old talk had started before the kettles even boiled.