Annie invited John to stay for some supper, but he had promised to eat with Raye and Aiden; he was drawing up some plans for a loft extension that was to make the Captain’s Bounty—planning permission willing—an inn with a small number of boutique rooms. When John left, Annie went upstairs to inspect the paintwork. He’d done a nice job and the flat held the painty smell of newness. Her mind was whirring with ideas for the café and her fingers twitched to get writing plans and making lists in her notebook: a pudding club night, a seafarers’ menu, a candlelit bistro evening . . . Oh, if she could just get Max to hurry up and buy her out already!

Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle joined her back downstairs in the café and mooched about the place, trying out different chairs for size while Annie finished her work for the day.

“Fancy a walk, Tiggs?” Annie asked when she had finished mopping the floor. She needed to walk off some excess excitement energy.

Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle looked at her with disdain, but Annie had a surprise for the haughty ginger moggy. Alex had posted down a cat lead, which Annie hadn’t gotten around to trying out yet. She wrestled her nonplussed pet into the harness, threw on her warmest jacket and scarf, and the two set off into the gloom.

Dusk was laying its gossamer blanket over land and sea, making the cliffs at the farthest end of the promenade seem fuzzy and indistinct. Despite the salt-bite of the wind and the cold damp eking into her tights, or maybe because of it, Annie felt invigorated. There was nothing as nice as a walk in the cold when you knew you had a warm home waiting for you at the end of it. This led her to thinking about Alfred. She wondered how much longer before he gave up the coast for a winter in the city. John had been right, of course; sleeping rough was a difficult way for anyone to live, let alone an older person. She wondered how she could make Alfred’s café sleeps more comfortable. Perhaps she could invest in a camp bed that she could keep in the cellar during the day. Annie was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see Ely loom out of the shadows.

“It’s that kind of behavior that labels you as a townie,” said Ely. He was standing in front of her, looking down with distaste at Tiggs’s harness and lead. Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle looked up at him and meowed weakly as if she couldn’t agree more.

“She hasn’t been out since she arrived at the Nook,” said Annie. “I thought it would be good for her to get to know her surroundings before I let her out by herself.”

“Got its own mobile phone, as well, no doubt,” said Ely, still eyeing Tiggs.

Annie laughed.