‘The cottage doesn’t look how I remember it.’

  ‘“Remember it”?’ quizzed Clemmie. ‘I thought this was your first visit?’

  ‘It is. I remember it from my granny’s stories when I was a child. In her tales it was beautiful, the most sought-after cottage on the island. Everyone wanted to live there.’

  ‘Your granny was right. My grandmother told me the same. But sadly it’s been dilapidated for as long as I can remember. For some reason, it seems Pete just fell out of love with his home. He may like his privacy up on the cliff but he’s still a big part of this island and, believe me, if he has something to say, he doesn’t hold back. His voice is heard within the community if he wants to put his point across.’

  ‘I’d love to have met your grandmother,’ said Verity.

  ‘Which means you must come back and visit us again. I’ve messaged her about the postcard. As soon as she replies, I’ll let you know. She can bake the best scones and cakes but trying to get her to answer a text is a totally different ballgame. Doesn’t like any sort of technology. It took me the best part of a year to talk her into trying an electronic till instead of writing every order on a piece of paper and skewering it.’

  ‘But you still have an old-fashioned till in the tearoom.’ Verity remembered the till and how vintage it looked.

  ‘The electronic till lasted a week. Puffin Island is prone to power cuts and on the very first week the till went down – so we had to return to our prehistoric accounting method of balancing the till at the end of the day. You can imagine my grandmother’s delight. We’ve never changed back again. Still skewering those receipts and using a calculator.’ Clemmie rolled her eyes.

  ‘Clemmie told me about the postcard. How intriguing,’ said Amelia as she rejoined them, folding her arms and leaning on the bar. ‘Tell me everything.’

  Clemmie shot Verity a playful but warning look. ‘You just remember that whatever you say now could end up in a book.’

  ‘That sounds like it’s happened before,’ said Verity.

  ‘On many occasions,’ replied Clemmie.

  Verity retold the story of finding the long-lost postcard and how it had led her to Puffin Island. ‘And I just thought that maybe I could track down who’d sent it. But the more I think about it, the more I suspect it will remain a mystery.’

  ‘And there was a secret,’ added Clemmie.

  ‘What kind of secret?’ asked Amelia, totally absorbed in the conversation.

  ‘That we don’t know, but the postcard suggests the secret was too much to bear.’

  ‘Do we think it was a resident? Had your granny visited on holiday?’ Amelia was throwing out the questions that Verity had already asked herself.

  ‘Again, we don’t know.’

  Amelia looked like she was thinking hard. ‘Who’s our oldest resident? It has to be Betty. What she doesn’t know about the comings and goings of this island isn’t worth knowing and she remembers everyone.’ Amelia looked at Clemmie.

  ‘I said exactly the same thing,’ Clemmie replied. ‘Not that we’re implying my grandmother is nosey and makes everything her business…’ Both women were quiet for a second.

  ‘But that’s exactly what we’re implying,’ they chorused in unison, making Verity laugh.

  ‘And what about the record book?’ suggested Amelia.

  ‘I thought about that, but surely that stopped long before 1972?’

  ‘What’s the record book?’ asked Verity.

  ‘It was a record that anyone coming on or off the island used to sign,’ Clemmie replied. ‘I suppose it helped to count how many visitors came to the island each year. But it ceased many years back, as visitor numbers increased, so we’re probably clutching at straws.’

  ‘What are you going to do about this postcard?’ asked Amelia.

  Verity shrugged. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get to know who sent it or what the story is behind it.’

  ‘This place must have meant something special to your granny if she told you so many stories from her time here.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right. Even after all these years there’s still a framed picture of the puffins hanging in our living room. The same picture that was on the postcard. It’s been hanging there for as long as I can remember.’

  ‘The plot thickens.’ Amelia put her hands on her heart. ‘Maybe it was some sort of forbidden love, just like Romeo and Juliet.’

  ‘When the postcard came, and I realised it was the same picture, I took the picture out of its frame. It was signed “W” in the same hand as on the postcard, and also dated 1972.’

  ‘This is full of intrigue.’ Amelia’s eyes were wide.

  ‘Well, at least I’ve visited Puffin Island and, in a matter of hours, fallen in love with it. I’ve had a chance to see for myself why my granny loved this place so much.’

  Just then a voice was heard over the microphone in the corner. They swung their heads in the direction of the makeshift stage. Cora was standing there with a smile on her face. ‘Welcome to open mic night at The Olde Ship Inn. Sit back, enjoy a beer and the entertainment. First up, we have a stand-up comedian who is holidaying here all the way from Cornwall. Please put your hands together and give our first act, Cam, a very warm welcome.’

  The pub burst into rapturous applause as a confident-looking man took to the stage.

  After finishing their food, Verity and Clemmie whirled around on their stools, drinks in hand, and continued to watch the entertainment.

  ‘How often does this happen?’ asked Verity.

  ‘Once a month. It’s a very popular night amongst the locals and the tourists.’

  ‘It’s a very talented island,’ observed Verity, finishing her drink a while later. ‘And I have to say I’m feeling very tipsy. No more for me.’ She glanced at her watch to find that time had flown by. Knowing she had to be up in the early hours, she needed to head off soon and try to get a few hours’ sleep. ‘I’ve enjoyed every second of tonight, but I suppose I need to make a move.’

  ‘Believe me, you need one more drink for the road.’ Amelia was insistent. ‘There’s only one more act and it’s the act that the whole island is waiting for.’ Amelia nodded towards the door, which had just swung open. A group of giggling girls sauntered into the pub and walked towards the makeshift stage. ‘That’s the fan club.’

  ‘Fan club?’ queried Verity.

  ‘Every open mic night they arrive from Sea’s End.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Verity.

  Amelia nodded towards Cora. ‘Because the last act is not to be missed.’

  The girls began to whoop and cheer as Cora stepped up to the microphone. ‘I don’t think this last act needs any introduction.’ She smiled at the girls. ‘And open mic night would not be the same without the talent of Puffin Island’s very own singer-songwriter. Please welcome to the stage the gorgeous and uber-talented Sam Wilson.’

  Verity’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t been expecting to see Sam again before she left the island. The crowd went wild and, as a thought suddenly hit her, she turned towards Clemmie.

  ‘Wilson.’ Verity’s eyes widened. ‘W… Wilson begins with a W.’ There was excitement in her voice. ‘Is it possible…? Does Sam have any relatives on the island?’

  Clemmie shook her head. ‘No father, and his grandfather was killed in a tragic accident before he was born.’

  Verity’s excitement at a possible lead deflated. ‘Oh well,’ she said, trying not to let her disappointment show, ‘it was just a thought.’

  She turned back to the stage and watched the pub go wild. Like his screaming fan club, she couldn’t take her eyes off Sam. She knew he looked super sexy in a suit, but here he was looking just as good, if not better, sporting a casual look: a snug, faded vintage T-shirt that showed off every muscle of his chest and arms, tight denim jeans and battered boat shoes.

  ‘Bloody hell, he fits into that T-shirt perfectly,’ Verity mused. ‘Sex on legs – and he sings.’ The words had left her mouth before she could stop them.

  ‘Another tourist in love,’ teased Clemmie, leaning in and nudging her elbow.

  Raking his hand through his shaggy blond hair, Sam sat on a stool and rested the guitar he carried on his knee.

  ‘He might rub people up the wrong way sometimes, but my gosh, he’s super sexy. Women dream about running their fingers through that hair,’ whispered Amelia.

  ‘Or getting their hands on his body,’ added Clemmie.

  ‘What do you mean, he rubs people up the wrong way?’ asked Verity.

  But Amelia didn’t answer. Sam strummed his guitar and again the girls screamed.

  ‘They think he’s the Harry Styles of Puffin Island.’ Clemmie grinned.

  He strummed again and looked up from under his fringe at the audience. As he scanned the room his eyes met Verity’s and every inch of her body erupted in uncontrollable goosebumps. She already knew the main reason she would return to Puffin Island; it might have something to do with those goddamn sexy blue eyes, which were currently locked with hers. And then there it was again, that wolfish grin that had her heart racing faster than a Formula One driver completing a qualifying lap. ‘Your Sam Wilson fantasies are written all over your face,’ quipped Clemmie, clearly noting that Verity’s eyes had not left him since he took the stage.

  ‘I can’t deny the thoughts I have right now,’ said Verity with a laugh. ‘Like, how many times a week must you work out to get a body that toned?’ She barely knew the man but from the moment she’d spotted him outside the greasy spoon he’d crept more and more into her thoughts. She wanted to know all about him.

  As he began to sing, the whole pub fell silent, lost in the mesmerising talent that was Sam Wilson. All eyes were fixed on him. The group of girls in the corner were holding up the torches on their phone and swaying back and forth as if they were at an arena concert.

  Verity tilted her head and dreamily put her hand on her heart. ‘He’s definitely singing to me.’

  ‘You and every other girl in the pub are thinking exactly the same,’ jollied Amelia.

  Every now and then Sam’s eyes danced in Verity’s direction and she found herself trying to tame the smile on her face. The air was charged and she felt a buzz under her skin, her body parts suddenly waking up after being fast asleep for what seemed like years. Sam Wilson had got her attention, and the feeling of wanting was definitely back.

  ‘He should be a professional singer.’

  Clemmie agreed. ‘He should be, but his true love is his restaurant. He lives and breathes The Sea Glass Restaurant and in five minutes’ time he’ll be back over there.’

  ‘Does he have a girlfriend?’ Verity was intrigued. Of course, she’d checked for a wedding ring the minute she set eyes on him at the greasy spoon café. There wasn’t one, but surely a man like Sam must be loved up with someone.

  There was a glance between Amelia and Clemmie that didn’t go unnoticed by Verity. ‘What? Tell me!’ she insisted.

  Amelia shrugged at Clemmie, waiting for some acknowledgement that it was okay to share whatever it was they knew.

  ‘Sam’s decided that he’s better off on his own, even though every girl in this pub thinks they’re in with a chance.’

  ‘And why would someone decide they’re better off on their own?’ Verity thought about her own life and why she was here and realised she shouldn’t be quick to judge. Before she arrived on Puffin Island, being on her own for the rest of her life had looked like a very desirable option. ‘He’s had his heart broken, hasn’t he?’

  Clemmie nodded.

  ‘Islander or tourist?’

  ‘Tourist turned islander, but unfortunately Puffin Island wasn’t enough for her. She’s been gone for over a year now.’

  ‘And does she have a name?’

  ‘Alice,’ shared Amelia.

  Sam began singing the chorus, delivering the words from the heart, making everyone in the pub believe them. He was singing about heartache and for a second Verity thought she saw sadness flash across his eyes. The song resonated with her and she hung on every word, remembering how, when she discovered Richard’s betrayal, it had felt as if a huge knife had been stabbed through her heart. Then she had been at an all-time low, thinking her life had ended, questioning herself, especially after the unkind words of someone who should have wanted to protect her at all costs – her mother. But it was true, time was a great healer, and even though she was still on that healing journey, she no longer wanted to hit the self-destruct button. Richard had shown exactly who he was, and that wasn’t her person; her person would be honest, would look out for her needs, and they’d encourage each other’s growth. Thanks to her short visit to Puffin Island, it felt as though brighter days would soon be coming. The moment she drove across that causeway, she’d realised she had full control of her life, thoughts and feelings.

  Still not taking her eyes off Sam, Verity sipped her drink. When he finished, he looked up from under his fringe, his blue eyes briefly locking on hers. There it was again, that burst of adrenalin that was electrifying her heart.

  ‘He’s looking at you.’ Amelia gave Verity a playful poke in the back.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, he was just looking in this direction,’ she replied, playing it down. But something inside her told her they had just shared a moment.

  Standing up to rapturous applause, Sam bowed, smiled and once more caught Verity’s eye before disappearing out of the back door.

  ‘Wow, he can really sing.’ Verity was still looking at the closed door, a part of her hoping he would walk back through so she could tell him how fantastic he was, hopefully without sounding like another groupie. ‘And look at them all,’ she added, glancing towards his fan club.

  ‘Can you believe they travel in for just one song?’ said Clemmie.

  ‘The song was beautiful. It was captivating.’ Verity was still in awe.

  ‘He writes them himself. Very talented individual. He always finishes off open mic night for Cora and Dan.’ Clemmie twirled back round on her chair. ‘I suppose I’d better settle my bill and head to bed. I’m up at the crack of dawn, ready for the breakfast run at the tearoom. Where’s Amelia disappeared to?’

  ‘She’s just gone out the back door. And I suppose I should try and bed down for at least a few hours before I go.’ Verity heard her voice wobble.

  ‘Aww, don’t get emotional.’ Clemmie leaned in and gave her a hug.

  ‘I don’t know what’s come over me,’ she replied, fanning a napkin in front of her face.

  ‘It’ll be a combination of things: the postcard, finding out we’re actually real, knowing this place held a special place in your granny’s heart. She’s probably even had a drink at this bar.’

  That thought had already crossed Verity’s mind. She’d also pictured her granny ambling down Lighthouse Lane, collecting sea glass from the beach, paddling at the water’s edge.

  ‘It feels a little surreal. I really do hope your grandmother might remember her.’

  ‘We hope so and you’ll be back.’

  ‘I will, I know I will.’

  Amelia had returned to the bar. Clemmie paid her bill then turned towards Verity, giving her one last squeeze. ‘Have a safe journey and I’ll be in touch.’ She headed out.

  ‘I need to pay my bill, too,’ said Verity.

  Amelia grinned. ‘Your bill has been taken care of.’

  ‘Oh no, did Clemmie pick up the tab?’ Verity looked towards the door but it had just swung shut behind her new friend. ‘I didn’t thank her. That was very kind, I wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘It had been taken care of long before Clemmie left.’

  ‘Huh? I don’t understand.’

  Amelia leaned in towards her and gave her a delightful gaze. ‘You’ll be the envy of every girl on this island. Sam settled your bill.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Verity’s pulse began to race and she couldn’t stop smiling.

  ‘Because it’s a nice gesture…or did I miss something?’ Amelia narrowed her eyes at Verity, who shrugged and repressed a smile.

  ‘Mmm, how long have you been on this island? You’re already crushing on one of the locals, and it seems like it’s reciprocated.’

  ‘You’ve either got it or you haven’t.’ Verity laughed. Getting involved with a sexy restaurant owner was not part of her plan when she left Staffordshire. Even a fling on a very small island was probably not a good idea. But Sam had given her an all-over warm, fuzzy feeling, she’d liked flirting with him, and of course it helped that he was drop-dead gorgeous. And when he gave her that wolfish grin of his, it had made her wonder what it would be like to spend the night in the arms of Sam Wilson.

  ‘It’s a lovely gesture.’

  ‘I’ve worked behind this bar for a fair few years and the only bill I’ve ever known him to settle is his own.’

  ‘That little piece of information is good to know.’

  ‘I still think there’s something you aren’t telling me.’ The sound of curiosity was evident in Amelia’s tone.

  ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about.’ Verity jumped down from the stool. ‘Now give me a hug.’

  ‘Look at you, you can’t stop smiling.’ Amelia lifted up the bar hatch, walked towards her and stepped into her arms. ‘Whilst you’re travelling the world we’ll try and uncover the mystery of the postcard, but I’ve got a feeling you’ll be back very soon.’

  ‘I think you may be right. Thank you for this evening. I’ll keep in touch.’

  Verity followed the crowd out of the pub. Outside on the cobbled street everyone dispersed in different directions. Still smiling, Verity walked back towards the harbour, taking in the amazing view. It was entirely lit up and looked enchanting. Everywhere was peaceful. All she could hear was the gentle lapping of the waves on the sandy bay, their rhythm seeming to slow as the day drew to a close. Fairy lights draped between poles twinkled all along the harbour front, all the way to the Cosy Kettle, where a café board advertised their speciality hot chocolate. From there the lights led on to the small wooden jetty and up to The Sea Glass Restaurant. A couple was walking hand in hand from the floating restaurant to the bay.