Chloe hurried home desperate for a shower, but some of the gusts were strong enough to take her breath away. A loud clatter made her jump. A few feet ahead, a metal pub table complete with parasol had been blown clean over. One of the fishermen picked it up, and was joined by a barman from the pub, who started to take down the other parasols. It wasn’t easy, because the wind was flapping wildly as they wrestled with the canvas parasols.

Rattles and crashes rang out from all sides of the harbour as other loose items came rolling down the street: mostly cans and plastic coffee cups, but a wheelie bin had also crashed onto its side, spewing out rubbish that was immediately attacked by the gulls.

Overtopping the howls of the wind was the powerful roar of the surf breaking on the shingle to the right of the harbour. Waves slammed into the wall throwing up plumes of spray and foam and soaking the far quayside.

Chloe rescued a baby’s blanket that had escaped from a buggy, which the mother wheeled towards her.

‘Thanks!’ said the mum, pulling her hair out of her eyes.

‘Everything not nailed down is going to fly out of Porthmellow today,’ said Chloe, her own eyes watering as she handed over the blanket. It felt soft between her fingers. The baby – no more than twelve months old – smiled and clutched it.

The mother peered over the handles and spoke to her child. ‘Come on, Molly, we’d better get you home to bed before this wind gets any worse and blows us into the harbour.’ She glanced up at Chloe and smiled.

‘How old is she?’ Chloe asked.

‘She was one last weekend.’

‘How lovely. My granddaughter will be a year in a few weeks’ time.’

‘They’re such a handful, aren’t they? This one has just found her feet.’ The mother tickled her daughter under the chin. ‘She can only do a few steps, but she’s a demon at crawling and climbing the stairs. I swear my hair’s grey already and I’m only twenty-six. You’ll know that though, being a granny and a mum.’ She looked happily at Chloe.

Chloe smiled back. ‘Yes. They’re tiring at this age …’ She stopped. She wanted so much to talk about Ruby and share her experiences but she couldn’t. Anything else she would say would be wishful thinking at best, and a total lie at worst.

The young mum sighed. ‘Better get Molly home, then.’