‘OK. Thanks again, and for the pie making.’

‘You’re welcome … but maybe you should see what the customers think first.’

She laughed.

‘Seriously, if there’s anything else I can do for you, I’m here whenever you need me.’ Sam could think of a lot of things, none of which she dared say out loud.

‘I will,’ she said, a little croakily. ‘See you tomorrow morning then?’

He gave a salute. ‘Bright and early.’

She hurried away, pulling out her phone pretending to look at it but simply desperate to put space between them before she said or did something she might regret.

Despite what Sam had told Gabe, sleeping easy was the last thing she did that night. Lying in her bed late on Friday evening, listening to the wind howling around Wavecrest Cottage, all she could think of was the marquee flapping wildly like a giant bird, before it took flight and cut a swathe through the cottages next to the harbour. She could hear waves battering the beach below the cottage.

It didn’t help that she’d taken a call from the professional security firm earlier in the evening, saying they weren’t prepared to leave anyone up on the field ‘in the current conditions’. Sam was still a little concerned about the possibility of sabotage but she had to agree and hope for the best; there was no way she’d ask any volunteer to spend the night in that marquee.

It was unlikely, but all the same, she knew she wouldn’t sleep until she’d gone to check that everything was OK. She crept downstairs, pulled on wellies, a fleece and a waterproof, grabbed a head torch from the porch and headed out. The rain started when Sam reached the field, like fine needles against her skin. There was a tang on the air, as if it was laced with salt and ozone from the sea. Torchlight swept the field as Sam circled the marquee. She froze momentarily before Gabe’s voice cut through the night.

‘Sam? Is that you?’

A beam flickered and Sam blinked in the light. ‘Yes. What are you doing here?’

Gabe lowered the torch and jogged to her side. ‘Same as you, I’m guessing. Checking the marquee’s still standing. What a night!’

She was more relieved to see him than she’d ever admit. ‘Just what we needed.’ She had to raise her voice to compete with the wind and rain, the flapping of canvas and clanking of ropes and metal.

‘What’s that noise?’

He pointed to the tent. ‘There’s someone inside.’

‘Oh God. There’s no security. It might be someone trying to sabotage the tent. Maybe the same people who vandalised the van. I’ll catch them red-handed!’

She darted towards the tent flap, but Gabe pulled her back. ‘No, you won’t. You’re not tackling some stranger in the dark. I’ll go.’

‘I’m fine.’