Annie could not have been more taken aback if she’d seen Neptune himself grinning out at her from the surf beyond.

—

“Right,” said Annie when they had cleared down. “I’m going to make us a well-earned lunch. Would you like a coffee while you wait?”

“That would be lovely,” John replied. “I’ll get cracking on these boxes.” He reached into one of the boxes he had dragged in from the hall and pulled out what was essentially a basketball-sized knot of black cat fairy lights.

Annie grimaced. “I’ll make it a double shot.”

She furnished him with a large Americano and left him to it. Upstairs, Annie looked through her cupboards and the fridge and tried to find something to cook for an impromptu late lunch. The range oven took half an hour to heat up, but the hob took only five minutes, so she settled on a vegetable frittata and salad.

Twenty minutes later and laden with two plates of rainbow food, Annie pushed the café door open with her bottom and turned to find that John was not there. For a moment, she thought perhaps he’d changed his mind on the truce; maybe he was simply as mercurial as he seemed. She felt strangely deflated. But as she set the plates down on the table, she heard a tap tap tap followed by a curse in a thick Scottish accent coming from outside. Annie followed the sound and found John sucking his thumb while still holding a hammer in his other hand.

“Are you all right?” Annie pulled her cardigan around her; despite the brightness of the day, there was a distinct nip in the air.

John removed his thumb from his mouth.

“Yes, I slipped with the bloody hammer,” he said through gritted teeth. He inspected his thumb. “The skin’s not broken, but it’s throbbing like a bastard!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bastard throb.”

He stared at her, his expression amused, though he still nursed his sore digit.

“You’re a bit of a smart-arse, aren’t you?” he said.

“Only a bit?”

“I’m still deciding to what degree,” he grumbled amiably, looking up toward the guttering.

“This looks great!” said Annie, following John’s gaze. A double string of black cat and pumpkin fairy lights looped around each other above the windows, which ran the length of the café. Another string, of skull lights, crisscrossed from the Victorian lamppost to the signpost that warned of strong currents at the peninsula.

“I’ve a way to go yet,” he replied. “Whether I’ll have any fingers left by the end of it remains to be seen.”

“Well, give your fingers a break and come in and have some food,” said Annie.