‘There’s no need for that,’ he said firmly. ‘These are my work boots and they probably have oil and tar on them.’

She straightened up, fascinated by this glimpse into Drew’s home life. The small but smart modern semi was situated on a quiet street opposite the memorial hall. She’d always linked him with the romantic charm of the Marisco and it seemed odd to think he spent any time in such ‘ordinary’ surroundings.

She also couldn’t help noticing a cherry-coloured coat hanging next to Drew’s own waterproof. She was sure it wasn’t Drew’s colour and anyway, he wasn’t a size ten. Maybe it belonged to ‘Caitlin’ although Drew hadn’t taken her bait when she’d hinted about his current love life. The only woman he’d spoken about so far was Katya.

‘I’ll get us a drink,’ he said warmly. ‘Why don’t you make yourself at home?’

He delved into a sideboard behind her while she took in the surroundings. The sitting room was neat but minimally furnished although there were some interesting contemporary paintings of Porthmellow and seascapes that enlivened the magnolia walls. She didn’t think the place was minimal by design; she guessed Drew simply didn’t need extraneous ‘stuff’, especially as he was away for a fair amount of the week.

There were a few framed photographs on the mantelpiece and side table. One was of Drew with the lifeboat crew he used to volunteer with, another showed him sitting outside the Smuggler’s with his parents who Chloe had met at a festival fundraising event. The third photo must be of his son, Connor. Drew had his arm around the boy – almost a teenager – and he certainly had Drew’s fair hair and smile.

Glassware chinked and Drew emerged from the rear of the sofa and held up a couple of bottles. ‘I’ve got beer, gin – the bog-standard kind – some lemon liqueur that I don’t recommend and some single malt, which I do.’

‘The malt sounds great.’

He put it on the coffee table in front of her. ‘My thoughts entirely. I’ll fetch some glasses from the kitchen.’

He came back with two plain tumblers and a jug with some water. ‘I’ve got some dry ginger if you’d prefer it.’

‘A splash of water’s fine,’ Chloe said.

He smiled and poured her a generous measure, followed by a dash of water. He then poured his own drink and they chinked glasses. ‘Here’s to … whatever.’

‘To whatever,’ said Chloe. She sipped the whisky, and its warmth bled into her veins immediately. However, far from feeling relaxed, she was beginning to get cold feet about having a heart to heart with Drew.

Chloe took a larger sip of whisky. ‘Is that Connor?’ she said, pointing to the photograph. It felt far easier to focus on his life than her own.