This Shore to Ship was such a stupid idea she regretted being the twit who’d thought it up. She also realised that she was going to have to look slippy, because, if it didn’t work, she would be the one to take all the blame.

Jumping aboard her boat, Sally stowed the box in the wheelhouse where there would be no spray. It was only then that she realised she had not picked up the safety kit.

Ah well. She’d never ever needed it before. Fingers crossed that she wouldn’t need it this time.

To Theresa, getting in an hour earlier and making up a box of picnic fayre had not been too much of a strain.

She was now busily peeling potatoes, while singing along to the radio.

They had a pretty full house for lunch, which was probably due to the cruise ship which had moored just up the coast for the day. On the other hand, tonight’s dinner bookings amounted to one table for three.

She hoped that the adverts going in the local papers and on the radio stations would bring in a few home deliveries.

Potatoes finished, she cleared away the peelings and went to the store cupboard for flour.

Theresa loved pottering around in this kitchen. But pottering, of course, was not the ideal state to be in. If she were racing about, wiping sweat from her brow, it would be preferable because then they would be earning money rather than propping up the place while it descended into ruin.

Opening the fridge, she took out a slab of butter, and laid it on the stainless-steel top, to soften up. She realised she should have done this before the potatoes, but frankly, since the disappointment of the auction, she had not been thinking efficiently.

She moved across to the vegetable racks and pulled out a handful of carrots and placed them in the sink. She knew she’d also want red peppers later, so she went to the salad rack. Lying across the lettuces was a red rose. How lovely! Someone had sent her a pretty flower to cheer her day. She filled a jug of water and put the rose in. Unfortunately the neck was too wide so it kept flopping out.

What a gorgeous little token to brighten a dull day. As she set to work on the carrots, she wondered who might have left it. She wondered whether it was the actual vegetable-delivery guy, or perhaps the driver. How romantic! Maybe it was one of the team at La Mosaïque.

No doubt whoever had left her the sweet gift would own up later on and it would be a terrible disappointment. She sighed and glanced up at the wall clock. Half eleven! She was well behind.

Snatching the rose from the jug, Theresa dropped it into a glass of water. Tonight she’d take it home, put it in a slim tall vase and leave it on her windowsill.