Verity was confused. ‘It had gone half-past three when I crossed, and I checked the tide times.’

  ‘It’s only coming up to three o’clock now and you can see the water is still covering the causeway towards Sea’s End.’

  ‘It can’t be only three o’clock now. The clock in the van said it was half three.’

  ‘Well, I suggest it’s probably not working.’

  Verity was quiet. That was actually a strong possibility because, now she came to think about it, it always seemed to be mid-afternoon when she checked the time. ‘I forgot to charge my phone because I had other things on my mind.’ It seemed her perfect time on Puffin Island had just ended with a very expensive disaster.

  Sam was rowing back towards the four-wheel drive.

  ‘How did you come to rescue me?’

  ‘There’s a group of island coastguards on a rota. My shift has only just started. I was heading towards the rescue hut to take over when I saw you from the top of Lighthouse Lane. I just thought you were going to park up and when you kept on going, I raised the alarm.’

  ‘What will happen to my van?’

  ‘It’ll be towed to the cliff top.’

  Verity looked horrified. ‘You aren’t going to push her off the edge of the cliff, are you?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Just the other side of Pete’s place is a small garage owned by Nathan, the local mechanic. He’ll do a post mortem.’ For the first time Sam had a look of amusement on his face.

  When they reached the car, Sam stood up in the canoe and stepped out. Verity felt an utter fool. Looking back at Hetty she felt a sense of panic. ‘How am I going to get to Amsterdam?’

  ‘Certainly not in that van, but you can cross the causeway in a taxi and catch the ferry. By the colour of your lips, though, I’d suggest you need to make sure you’re physically fit before you go anywhere.’

  Verity was freezing, she was wet through and beginning to shiver, probably from the shock of her ordeal. She knew things could have been a lot worse if Sam hadn’t spotted her. ‘I can’t leave the van here. She’s my home for the next six months so I didn’t have to pay for hotels.’

  Sam looked towards the van. ‘I’m sorry to say this, but I beg to differ.’ Helping Verity out of the canoe, he opened the boot of the car and pulled out a thermal blanket. ‘We need to get you warm.’

  ‘I’ve got no dry clothes. They’re all in …’ She didn’t finish her sentence, instead promptly bursting into tears.

  ‘You’re not the first and you won’t be the last to get stuck in the water. Jump in the car – the seat warmer is on. Clemmie’s an early bird so I’ll message to see if she has any spare clothes and hopefully she’ll pick up the text when she wakes.’

  Verity climbed into the seat with the thermal blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

  ‘In the meantime, you’ll have to have another one of my hoodies.’ This time he smiled. ‘Are you okay?’ His voice had softened considerably.

  ‘I’m a complete idiot. If only I’d charged my phone, I’d have seen the correct time.’

  ‘I can’t argue with that.’

  ‘What happens to me now?’

  ‘There’s a rescue hut, where you can sit and wait whilst you decide your next move, but as nowhere opens for hours you can come back to mine and make yourself comfortable. I’m on shift until lunch time. Let me load up the canoe whilst you decide.’ Sam pointed towards the mainland. ‘The tide has turned.’

  Verity could now see the clear causeway leading to Sea’s End. She closed her eyes for a moment whilst Sam slammed the boot shut and climbed behind the wheel.

  ‘If only I’d waited another hour.’

  ‘If only.’ Sam radioed in on the walkie talkie. ‘Stranded motorist rescued. I’ll arrange for Nathan to tow the van up to the garage.’

  Verity didn’t know who Sam was talking to, but she was so cold that her teeth began uncontrollably chattering.

  ‘Two minutes and I’ll get you inside and the fire lit. You need to get out of those wet clothes and warmed up. Your body temperature will be dropping.’

  ‘Thank you. I actually feel really tired and I’m soaked to the bone.’ She looked in the sun visor mirror, seeing the tinge of blue to her lips that Sam had mentioned.

  ‘I’m not surprised, you’ve probably only had a couple of hours’ sleep. Any idea whether you’re still going to attempt to catch your ferry? Because if you are we’ll need to arrange transport to get you there.’

  Verity didn’t know what to do. The shock of possibly losing the van was swamping her. ‘I just can’t think… Oh no! Ava. She’s meeting me in Amsterdam.’

  ‘Let’s get you warmed up and you can have a think about what you’re going to do.’

  Looking out of the window, Verity saw a steady stream of cars driving towards them. ‘That’s a lot of people up at this time in the morning.’

  ‘They probably either work off the island or are catching one of the early ferries.’

  Once they’d left the causeway, Sam drove straight towards Lighthouse Lane. He slowed down as he approached the rainbow-coloured cottages then swung into the first driveway. ‘Here we are.’

  Verity’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe it. ‘You have to be kidding me.’

  Sam parked the car. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You live here?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘This is unreal. This is my cottage.’

  ‘Have you had a bang on the head, too?’

  In her excitement, Verity grabbed his arm. ‘When I was a child my granny used to tell me stories about this cottage and I said I was going to live here one day. I can’t believe this.’

  She stared at the whimsical, cosy storybook cottage. ‘How long have you lived here?’

  ‘This cottage has been in the Wilson family for as long as anyone can remember.’

  ‘My granny…she’s been here.’ Verity pointed to the oak porch with the blush-coloured roses tumbling all over it. ‘She always told me the roses around the door were stunning. How long have they been here?’

  ‘For as long as I can remember.’

  ‘Wilson. The W has to be Wilson.’

  ‘Like I said last night, I don’t think it’s possible. Have you any more information to go on?’

  ‘Only the date stamped on the postcard. Oh, and the picture of the puffins that’s been hanging in Granny’s house for years and years. There was a message written on the back of it in the same handwriting as the postcard. It said, “The summer of 1972”.’

  Sam’s eyes shot up. ‘My grandfather died the summer of 1972.’

  ‘I’ve got a gut feeling about this, I think my granny and your grandfather knew each other. She went into so much detail about this cottage. She’s been here.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’ Sam climbed out of the car then did the gentlemanly thing and opened the passenger side for Verity.

  ‘You’d best come in and see if it lives up to your expectations.’ Sam put the key in the lock and opened the door.

  Verity stepped inside and was surprised to see Sam put his finger to his lips.

  ‘Can you hear that?’ he whispered.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ Verity whispered back.

  ‘That is the sound of the worst guard dog in the world. Not one bark!’

  Verity stifled a giggle. ‘Jimmy will be too busy dreaming about shoes.’

  Hanging up her rucksack on the coat stand in the hallway, Sam led the way into the living room, pulled an armchair towards the open log fire and quickly lit the fire. ‘I’m glad I got the fire ready yesterday. Take a seat and I’ll get you a towel, a jumper and some tea. Then you can tell me all about this postcard.’

  Verity was standing in the middle of the room, amazement no doubt written all over her face as she spun around taking in everything. ‘This is surreal.’

  As with the rest of Puffin Island, her granny had accurately described this room: the wood-framed window overlooking the garden, the oak beams running the length of the ceiling, the impressive open fire. On the wall hung a number of photographs. She took a closer look and one immediately caught her eye. Standing in front of a boat was a handsome young man holding up the largest fish she’d ever seen in her life. This had to be Sam’s grandfather.

  ‘What was your grandfather’s name?’ Verity asked, hearing Sam walk back into the room.

  ‘Joe,’ he replied.

  ‘There was a Joe in my grandmother’s stories. I remember now.’ Verity couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. ‘Let me think…’ She was quiet for a second. ‘Joe, that’s right, he was destined for greater things, and…oh my…yes, a musician…’ Verity was tripping over her words. ‘She told me a story that he was in a band and was signed to a record label and was about to go on tour with none other than Bowie.’ Verity laughed. ‘Of course, I do know some of the stories had to be fictional.’

  Sam looked amazed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Because that’s all true.’

  Now it was Verity’s turn to look amazed.

  Sam placed two mugs on the table before passing Verity a towel. ‘Here, drink that. At least your lips are a little less blue and you’ve stopped shivering.’

  ‘I think amazement has taken over the shock.’

  Draping the towel around her shoulders, Verity pointed to the photograph. ‘That has to be your grandfather. You look just like him.’

  Sam stood beside her. ‘It is. That was the biggest catch of the day.’

  ‘If I’d known there were fish as big as that in the bay you would never have got me in that water.’ She turned and looked around the room. ‘I have to say, I wouldn’t have put you down as a cosy cottage kind of guy.’

  ‘And what would you have put me down as?’

  ‘Modern apartment, minimal things, large TV and the latest technology.’ Verity sat back on the chair and hugged the mug of tea.

  ‘That sounds like complete hell to me. Let me go and get you some warm clothes. I’m afraid it’ll have to be a pair of my joggers, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt. I don’t have many dresses in my wardrobe.’ He smiled at her as he walked out of the door. Returning in five minutes, he handed her a pile of clothes. ‘There’s a bathroom just⁠—’

  ‘Down the hall to the left,’ Verity finished off his sentence.

  Sam cocked an eyebrow. ‘Your granny was very thorough with her descriptions.’

  ‘Do you, or did you, have a rope swing that hangs from an old oak tree at the side of the garden, and a gate that takes you straight down to a cove?’

  ‘I do. And you have…a postcard?’

  Verity nodded. ‘What’s your gut feeling? Do you think the postcard could be from your grandfather?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Wait there.’

  Sam watched as Verity hurried back down the hallway and grabbed her rucksack from the coat stand. Returning to the living room she plonked herself on the green velvet sofa next to him and rummaged in her bag. ‘Here, take a look at this.’ She handed him the postcard. ‘It’s from your grandfather, isn’t it? Have you got anything from that summer? Did your grandfather have any photographs from that time? Anything that would link them?’

  Sam shook his head, and walked over to the dresser. He took out a small notebook then sat on the couch next to Verity. He opened the book and laid the postcard next to the first page.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This was my grandfather’s wages book. He used to log his work hours, the days and times, and in this column the weight of the fish, as he got paid by the weight of the fish he caught. As you can see, some days were better than others.’ Sam pointed to the writing on the page and then at the postcard. ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, Verity, but I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. The handwriting in this book and the postcard are different. Look at the letters.’

  Verity examined both carefully.

  ‘I do believe they knew each other, because how would you know about this place unless you’re some sort of stalker or psychic? But as for the postcard, I don’t think it was from him,’ he said gently.

  Verity felt disappointed. She so badly wanted the postcard to be from Joe as it would solve some of the mystery. ‘Do you find it fascinating that they were probably sat here together back then and now here we are? I do.’

  ‘It is a little surreal, I must admit. Even harder to believe, given that our paths crossed because of a chance meeting outside a greasy spoon.’

  ‘It was fate. The universe brought us together for a reason.’

  Sam smiled at her. ‘Maybe it’s going to take teamwork to discover what this secret is.’

  ‘Teamwork, I like the sound of that.’ Verity looked around. ‘I still can’t get over the fact that she’s been here. In her stories this cottage was beautiful and so was Cliff Top Cottage. I have to admit that I was quite surprised by the real Cliff Top Cottage, as it wasn’t how Granny described it at all.’

  ‘Yeah, Pete has really let it go.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to guess at the reasons for anything that man does.’

  The words were said with hostility. ‘It sounds like you aren’t a fan of Pete’s?’ she probed.

  ‘Let’s just say I’m still waiting for the truth to come out.’

  ‘About?’

  Sam lay the book and postcard on the coffee table and picked up his mug of tea. He clearly wasn’t about to share any more of his thoughts on the matter. An awkward silence filled the room.

  ‘Well, at least this cottage lived up to my expectations,’ she babbled. ‘I can’t believe I’m sitting here.’

  ‘You’re very lucky to be sitting here after your latest escapade.’

  Just at that moment Sam’s phone rang.

  ‘That was Nathan,’ he said a moment later, after hanging up. ‘He’s already towed Hetty up to the garage, and will assess the damage later on this afternoon. For now, I need to get back to the coastguard’s hut. Even though it’s safe to cross the causeway, you still get the odd swimmer stranded when they decide to brave the cold water and get cramp. It’s usually to impress a woman, and the swimmers are usually naked.’

  ‘Is that what you tried to do yesterday?’

  ‘I had my boxers on,’ he replied with a wicked glint in his eye.

  ‘But I do think you were trying to impress me.’ She gave him a tiny smirk.

  Sam stood up and pointed towards the kitchen. ‘Jimmy’s asleep in his crate. Help yourself to a shower. I’m sure you know where that is.’

  She pointed through the door to the stairs.

  ‘If you decide to make the ferry to Amsterdam, there’s a taxi number on the corkboard in the kitchen, and if you decide you’re staying and want to catch up on sleep, the bedroom is⁠—’

  ‘Through there.’ Verity pointed. ‘Or there’s two upstairs. I should have pretended I was psychic, shouldn’t I?’ She laughed.

  Sam shook his head in jest. ‘If you do decide you’re off on your travels’—he took a key off his keyring—‘lock the door behind you and leave the key under the mat. If you don’t go, I’ll see you later.’

  They looked at each other for a moment.

  ‘Thanks for rescuing me.’

  ‘You’re welcome but I really have to go.’ Sam edged backwards towards the door. He gave her one last smile before he shut the door behind him. Two seconds later it opened again. ‘And if you go you’d better leave me some contact details. You’ll need an update on the van and we can discuss the mystery of the postcard.’

  ‘And here was me thinking you wanted my phone number, just because.’

  ‘Goodbye, Verity Callaway.’ The front shut again but this time it didn’t reopen. Verity heard the car engine start and the gravel crunched under the tyres as it pulled away from the cottage.

  With Ava very much on her mind, she located the bathroom and was relieved to strip off her wet clothes. Climbing into the shower, she welcomed the warm water. She knew she wasn’t going to make the ferry to Amsterdam and a tiny part of her was quite happy about that, despite the disastrous consequences of her actions. But there was also a part of her that wasn’t looking forward to telling Ava, because she didn’t yet know whether the garage could fix the van, and there was a strong likelihood that they couldn’t – which would mean they had no travelling van to live and sleep in for their adventure together.

  Ten minutes later, feeling clean and refreshed, Verity dried herself whilst taking a nosey around the bathroom. Sam had impeccable taste in grooming products and aftershaves, which were all lined up on a bathroom shelf. Squirting a tiny amount of aftershave into the air, Verity briefly closed her eyes and took in the aroma. That one was definitely Sam Wilson’s signature scent; she recognised it immediately.

  Verity got changed into the T-shirt and joggers, and the oversized sweatshirt was cosy as she pulled the sleeves down over her arms. She wandered back into the living room, eager to explore the rest of the cottage.

  Slowly opening the kitchen door, she peered in. Jimmy was still fast asleep in his crate with a blanket draped over the top of it. There was the racing-green Aga that Granny had talked about and the inglenook with the wood burner. The farmhouse table was positioned in the middle of the room. Everywhere was spick and span.

  Verity opened another door and stepped down into a tiny hallway where a wrought-iron staircase spiralled upwards. Opposite was the snug, which was just as homely as the first room. The walls were covered with framed pictures, and there was another beautiful open fire with an oak beam mantel, and gorgeous wall lights in antique brass with shades that matched the curtains. The small chesterfield was covered in throws and the plushest velvet cushions she had ever seen. Two cosy fabric chairs, a huge rug and a small table with a computer had been placed in front of the window. At the back of the room was an impressive bookcase that stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books.

  Verity wandered towards it and ran her finger along the spines of the books. She was impressed. Sam had all the classics as well as fiction in different genres and numerous books on Puffin Island, which she assumed were written by local authors. She pulled one out. It was all about the history of puffins and included details of the puffin census that went back years. There was another book on the history of the island and its local trades. Taking it from the shelf, Verity sat down on the settee and flicked through the pages. There before her eyes was a photo of Joe Wilson, branded the youngest yet most competent fisherman on the island. His resemblance to Sam was uncanny; there could be no doubt he was his grandson. Their facial features were very similar, and they had the same wild hair and rugged good looks. She thought about what Sam had told her about his grandparents. It must have been difficult back in those days. Not only were they very young but for the relationship to fall apart and the two to go their separate ways when there was a child involved… Even in her own generation Verity knew numerous couples that were far from happy but stayed together for the sake of their children, and because splitting up would mean financial ruin. Fortunately, when she split up with Richard there were no children involved and the house belonged to her. And, as he never made any financial contribution to the upkeep, he had no claim on it whatsoever.