Anne, eleven years old, with a red braid on each side of her head, was on her way back from the beach where she had been collecting mussels and flithers. She was carrying her basket on her hip, quietly humming to herself, but she stopped and shot red, when she spotted Elijah coming her way. It was a week or so since Elijah had taken her father in, and it had upset all of them. Father had been more irritable than before, and his long silences made everyone tremble. There was a lot more tension between him and Simon. Father had forbidden them to speak to Elijah, and it was upsetting to the young girl, for she knew how much father used to care about him and Elijah was like family to them. Anne bit her lip nervously as he approached.