Jane’s eyes anticipated what she was used to seeing across from the island—a spot where two giant pine trees stood, right where the land jutted out into the sea, with overgrown hedges running along the cliffs on either side. One of the trees had fallen in the storm. She could see its roots reaching up toward the sky like long, grasping fingers. It had left a gap, through which Jane glimpsed a house, pale purple, very old, with turrets and elaborate trim painted green in some spots and blue in others. One upstairs shutter dangled precariously.
