Verity gave a tiny gasp, feeling her heart beginning to race as she traced her fingers over the gold foil print on the front of the postcard. It had faded but she could still clearly make out the words ‘Puffin Island’. Her granny’s words started ringing in her ears. Puffin Island, where there’s always a good dose of sun, sand, sea air and a puffinry of puffins. As a young child, Verity had always burst into a fit of giggles whenever Granny had said the word ‘puffinry’. She’d thought it was a made-up word until she became a veterinary nurse and stumbled across the word in a textbook. That took her by surprise then, and this took her by surprise now. Verity turned over the postcard and saw the date on the postmark: 1972.

  ‘Surely you can’t have been stuck in the postbox for over fifty years?’ Verity said aloud before reading the words written on the card.

  My Dearest Henrietta,

  I know the secret must have been too much to bear but I can’t imagine my life without you.

  Always and forever,

  W x

  Perplexed, Verity turned the postcard over, then turned it back and read the words again. She racked her brain trying to think of anyone in her grandmother’s life with the initial ‘W’. Then it suddenly struck her – she’d seen the picture on the front of the postcard before! She hurried down the hallway to the snug and opened the door. Even though this room had changed over the years, Verity always remembered the sight of her grandmother sitting in her armchair in front of the bay window – her favourite spot – usually knitting and watching the comings and goings of the street. The decor had changed when her mum had inherited the house, and again when Verity bought it, but after all these years her grandmother’s favourite picture was still hanging on the wall. Richard had never liked it, claiming it looked like something out of a junkshop, but Verity had refused to take it down. She loved it and it reminded her of her childhood.

  Staring at the framed photo on the wall now, she saw that the image was exactly the same picture as the one on the postcard.

  ‘W, who is W?’ Rummaging through the drawer of the dresser underneath the photo, Verity found exactly what she was looking for: her granny’s old address book. Sitting down she quickly began to turn the pages, looking for any name beginning with W. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find or what she was going to do about it.

  When she reached the end of the address book, she sat back, a little disappointed. Sliding the address book back in the drawer, she stood again in front of the framed picture hanging on the wall.

  Who was W and what secret was too much to bear? Were they friends, lovers? Taking the photograph off the wall she laid it on the carpet. Carefully bending back the pins, Verity removed the back of the frame, surprised to find a message written on the back of the photograph…in the same writing as the postcard.

  The summer of 1972.

  W x

  Quickly doing the maths, she realised her grandmother would have been twenty-two years old in the summer of 1972. More importantly, her daughter, Verity’s mother, was born in 1973. Verity immediately thought of her grandfather, Alf. She was almost sure her grandparents were married just before her mother was born but she couldn’t be certain. Both of them had passed away – her grandfather twenty years ago from lung cancer, which was not surprising as Verity had never seen him without a cigarette in his mouth, and her grandmother unexpectedly in her sleep twelve years ago. She remembered them as very much in love and inseparable.

  So how did W fit into the equation? ‘You’re overthinking it,’ she said out loud, trying to stop her spiralling thoughts. W could be anyone, but the use of the word ‘secret’ on the postcard intrigued her, as did the fact that both the postcard and the picture that had been hanging on the wall in the snug for decades belonged to the summer of 1972. Taking a photo of the inscription, Verity reassembled the picture and hung it back in its place.

  ‘Puffin Island,’ she murmured, taking the postcard into the sitting room and grabbing her iPad from her rucksack. She typed ‘Puffin Island’ into Google.

  ‘No way.’ Verity was astonished. According to Google, Puffin Island was a real place!

  Puffin Island gives a distinct and spectacular character to the north Northumberland coastline just off the town of Sea’s End. The island is approximately 2.5 miles long and 9 miles around.

  Still not believing that this island really existed, Verity clicked on the images and immediately felt the familiar comforting warmth that the childhood stories told by her beloved granny had always conjured. Independent shops lined the charismatic old high street, and charming restaurants and bespoke shops were dotted along the picture-postcard harbour beside a pretty lighthouse. Verity had always been fascinated by the famous rainbow cottages her granny had described, and insisted that when she grew up, she would live at Cosy Nook Cottage on Lighthouse Lane, which was a stone’s throw from Blue Water Bay. With its dramatic coastline, soft stretches of caramel sand and a puffinry of puffins, Verity was inordinately pleased to find that the island was real and not just a figment of her granny’s imagination.

  ‘You’re actually a place. I can’t quite believe it,’ she whispered, trying to digest the information.

  Puffin Island is a tidal island linked to the tiny hamlet of Sea’s End by a long causeway. Twice a day the tide sweeps in from the North Sea to cover the road, affected by the phases of the moon. The causeway crossing times are forecasted as safe, but all travellers should remain vigilant.

  Again, exactly what her granny had told her.

  Looking back at the postcard, Verity suddenly realised that there was a huge possibility that all the bedtime stories that Granny had told her were true. She racked her brain trying to remember if Granny had ever mentioned any names beginning with W, but no one sprung to mind.

  Chapter Two

  Verity was woken at the crack of dawn by the sound of her alarm. She took a moment to rally herself, then realised she had no time to stay in bed. It was today her adventures started. Arriving in Amsterdam was hopefully going to be all flowers and museums, food and coffee shops. Organised as ever, she’d laid out all her clothes the night before, opting for a simple pair of denim shorts, a white T-shirt and her faithful, comfy, worn-out trainers. Already packed in her rucksack were a raincoat and jumper as she didn’t know how chilly it would be on the ferry.

  Within seconds she’d jumped out of bed and straight into the shower. Welcoming the warm jets of water that cascaded over her body, she stayed in longer than necessary, knowing that tomorrow morning she would probably be washing with a portable pet shower.

  Fifteen minutes later she blasted her hair with the hairdryer, tied it up in a messy bun and applied minimal makeup. Just as she was about to slip her feet into her trainers she heard rain start to patter against the windowpane. Late last night, dark clouds had rolled in, torrential rain had given the town a drenching, and it seemed the storm wasn’t quite done yet. Verity checked the weather app on her phone, finding that a thunderstorm was currently raging in Newcastle upon Tyne. Hopefully, by the time she arrived, it would have passed. Pulling back the curtains for the last time, she stood for a moment, breathing deeply and taking in the view she wouldn’t see again for at least six months. The last few months of her life had been full of turmoil, but since she’d made the decision to take off in her travelling van, it had felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She was relieved that it was almost time to hit the road. She couldn’t wait to catch up with Ava.

  After making a flask of tea, Verity did a final check of the house, switching off the fridge and all the electrical sockets. She laid all the appliance instructions out for the new tenants and picked up her rucksack.

  Just as she was about to go through the door, she hesitated, remembering that the postcard from Puffin Island was still lying on her bedside table. She quickly ran up the stairs to fetch it and slipped it into her rucksack. She couldn’t wait to share with Ava the story of the old postbox and see what she made of the message written on the postcard.

  Locking the front door behind her, she gave a quick glance around to confirm that there wasn’t a soul in sight and she would be able to slip away quietly, just as she’d planned. She deposited the keys in the lockbox, threw her rucksack onto the passenger seat and slipped the flask of tea into the door pocket.

  Then she punched a text to Ava.

  I’m on my way! See you soon!

  Starting the engine, Verity switched on the wipers and set up the sat nav on her phone.

  According to Google Maps she would reach her destination in just over three hours. Verity wasn’t a confident driver, and the furthest she’d ever driven before now was to the supermarket on the edge of the town, but she wasn’t going to let any doubts creep into her mind. She could do this.

  Putting the van in reverse she took her foot off the clutch and started to edge out of the drive.

  Bang!

  ‘Shit! What the hell was that?’ Verity slammed on the brakes, pulled on the handbrake and jumped out. The rain was coming down hard as she stood at the back of the van and stared in dismay at the black wheelybin now lying on its side. ‘Damn,’ she muttered, noting the dent in Hetty’s back, before hauling the bin upright again. So far there had been nothing quiet about this getaway. She glanced up and down the street. Thankfully, it seemed her little accident had gone unnoticed, but it wasn’t the start she wanted, and now she was sodden, the rain having soaked through her T-shirt. After jumping back into the van Verity turned up the heater before grabbing her jumper from the top of the rucksack.

  ‘Let’s try again.’

  As she switched on the radio the lyrics of ‘I Will Survive’ rang out, and she smiled.

  ‘Got to love Gloria Gaynor!’

  There was only one thing for it. Verity turned up the radio. It was her intention to live up to those lyrics and from now on live life to the max. Reversing off the drive, she took one last look at the house. She’d thought she might feel apprehensive about leaving, might question if she was doing the right thing, but all she felt now was excitement mixed with relief. Driving up the road, she sang at the top of her lungs and didn’t even glance towards number 50.

  Three hours later, Verity had successfully navigated herself to North Shields and decided to pull over and get a bite to eat from the greasy spoon café parked in the layby, before entering the ferry port. Outside the glorified caravan stood plastic chairs and tables, each with a laminated menu standing between a ketchup bottle and a container full of plastic knives and forks. Most of the tabletops also came with free grease, or spilled salt.

  Thankfully it had stopped raining, though the sky still looked threatening.

  As soon as she stepped from her van, Verity was hit by an aroma of bacon, sausage, fried onions and coffee. Suddenly feeling a lot more than peckish, she joined the queue of bikers and truckers to the sound of wolf-whistles. Feeling a crimson blush upon her cheeks, she focused on the counter and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Amongst the hungry customers she spotted a man standing at the head of the queue who looked even more out of place than her, if that was possible. He wore a designer suit of navy twill cloth, with a contemporary fit, natural shoulders and pick-stitched lapels. He turned around, and she couldn’t help but stare; he was drop-dead gorgeous, looking as though he should be dining at an exclusive fancy restaurant, not a greasy spoon by a ferry port. His curly blond hair was wild at the top. She guessed he was in his early thirties – so, around her age. His eyelashes and deep blue eyes were to die for, his face was tanned and he had that unshaven thing going on. As he walked away from the counter, taking a bite of his sandwich, he caught her eye. He slowed as he approached her, saying, ‘And here was me thinking they were whistling at me.’ He gave her a wolfish grin and carried on walking.

  Verity smiled and glanced back over her shoulder, watching as he climbed into a black four-wheel drive and finished his food before starting the engine. She was still watching him as he pulled out of the parking spot, and he glanced over in her direction again and paused. They stared at each other for a moment. Verity’s stomach gave a little flip – a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She wondered who the handsome stranger was and whether he would be on her ferry to Amsterdam.

  ‘Can I help you, love?’

  ‘Just a sausage bap, please. Oh, and a coffee?’ she said, hastily stepping up to the counter.

  The assistant nodded and cut open a bread roll then walked over to the fryer that was bubbling with fat and fished out a sausage with a long pair of tongs. He handed her the roll in a napkin, along with a polystyrene cup of coffee. ‘There’s sauce and sugar on the tables.’

  After thanking him and handing over cash, Verity walked back to her van, the handsome stranger still very much on her mind. From where she was parked she could see he’d driven the short distance to the ferry port. His car stood higher than the vehicles behind him and he was now queuing for passport control. As she juggled her keys to open the van door, her phone vibrated and flashed on the passenger seat. Quickly she balanced the food and cup on the bonnet and hastened to open the door.

  Five missed called from Ava were showing on the screen and Verity immediately had a sinking feeling that something was very wrong. Returning her friend’s call, she waited for Ava to answer.

  ‘There’s nothing to panic about,’ Ava quickly reassured.

  ‘Thank God for that. I thought you were ringing to tell me you’ve changed your mind and were about to leave me stranded at the ferry port.’

  ‘Not quite, but there is a tiny blip. But don’t worry, all will be back on track in forty-eight hours.’

  ‘What kind of blip? Because your blips are usually quite catastrophic.’

  There was a pause on the end of the phone.

  ‘Ava!’

  ‘I’m not going to be with you today or tomorrow, but I’m coming.’

  ‘What do you mean? Why not?’

  ‘I tripped over my rucksack at the top of the stairs, lost my balance, and chipped my front tooth as I fell. I have an emergency dentist’s appointment this afternoon and the next ferry I can get on is the day after next, but my ticket is confirmed.’

  ‘What am I going to do for two days on my own?’ Verity realised that the first words out of her mouth were not very sympathetic. ‘Sorry, Ava. Let me rephrase that, how are you?’

  ‘A half-smashed tooth is not a very attractive look, and I know it’s not ideal but for two days you need to put on your big-girl pants and embrace the situation. You’ll be fine and I’ll be with you before you know it.’

  ‘I know, I can do this,’ Verity said with determination.

  ‘You can. Get yourself settled on the ferry, relax, read a book, watch the world sail by. I’ll text you over the campsite details and I’ll make my way there as soon as possible. I promise.’

  ‘You’d better! I’m just about to join the queue to go through passport control.’

  ‘Don’t have too much fun without me!’

  Verity had to admit she was feeling a tad disappointed to be starting this adventure on her own, but Ava would be there as soon as possible and Verity would only need to keep herself occupied for the next forty-eight hours.

  Starting the engine, Verity drove into the ferry port and began to follow the slow line of vehicles. Up ahead was a steward who reminded Verity of a flight attendant, his arms stretched in front of him directing vehicles of different sizes into different lanes. The lane in front of her was moving steadily and soon the steward directed her straight ahead, to join the camper vans and the four-wheel drives. Sitting in the queue she looked out towards the long line of ferries. She’d never realised how big they were; she’d only ever seen one on TV. In fact, she had never been on any type of boat before, so this was certainly a first!

  Just above the ferry the royalty of the coastal skies was circulating, the enthusiastic, happy band of seagulls swooping down towards the water, no doubt scavenging their next meal. The car in front began moving and stopped at the kiosk, where the occupants handed over their passports. This was it: as soon as she was through passport control her six-month adventure would start.

  Verity switched on the radio and smiled as one of Britney’s songs played, instantly reminding her of Kev. Turning up the music she began jigging in her seat, and, taking a sideward glance, she found a pair of mesmerising eyes staring back at her in amusement. There he was again, the gorgeous guy from the greasy spoon, in the next lane. He began pointing at her bonnet and she raised her eyebrows and shrugged, not understanding what he was trying to tell her. He pointed with both hands and Verity followed his gaze.

  There, miraculously still balancing on the van’s bonnet, was her sausage bap. (The coffee was long gone.) The phone call from Ava had distracted her and she’d forgotten all about it.

  Verity laughed, opened the van door and hopped down. Just at that moment the ferry honked its horn, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. She placed both hands on her chest and dared to glance in the attractive man’s direction. He was now shaking his head and laughing. The car in front of her van was beginning to move so she quickly grabbed the sandwich. As she turned, a seagull swooped towards her from nowhere. Verity screamed and threw the sandwich in the air. Not missing its chance, the seagull dived at the food and was soon gliding towards a nearby rock with its breakfast grasped tightly in its beak.

  Still in shock, Verity briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them, the man was still watching her. She was totally embarrassed, but a tiny part of her saw the funny side. Trying to shrug it off, she laughed and rolled her eyes, but her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen. She mimed ‘you win some, you lose some’ by throwing her hands up in the air. His smile was wide, showing a perfect set of teeth, and he gave her a friendly wave before the cars in front of him moved and he looked ahead of him in his lane. Verity jumped back in her van and slowly began to close the gap between her and the car in front. Within what felt like seconds, the man was through passport control and heading for the ferry at the far end of the port. She immediately wondered if it might be the one heading to Amsterdam.