She took a deep breath of fresh sea air and began to walk along the promenade in the direction of the dwelling in the distance.

As she got closer, Annie was able to pick out more details of the building. It looked like the old Victorian double-height fishing huts she’d seen on the beach at Hastings. It was cladded in black wood, but as it came more into view, she could see that the bottom third was exposed stone and at some point it had clearly been converted into a habitable dwelling. A tin chimney poked up through the pitched roof, which was tiled black to match the shiplapped walls. A thin wisp of gray smoke escaped the chimney and curled into the sky. Annie hurried her pace.

She could find no door on the beach side of the building, only a hatch and three large windows, shuttered and locked. The door to the side was utilitarian, the only feature the gold circle of a Yale lock. A few paces back the way she had come was a set of concrete steps that led down from the promenade to more shingle and the garden she had seen from a distance.

Annie walked down the steps and tramped alongside a peeling picket fence that had seen better days. The garden was laid with shingle but had been cultivated to make a pretty courtyard; lavender and rosemary bushes were dotted about the space, interspersed with clumps of low-growing thyme, herbs, and shrubs. The spiky seed heads of alliums on long woody stems bobbed above the shrubs like low-slung planets. The breeze picked up the scent of herbs, and the familiar smells washed over Annie like a balm. A flight of stone stairs led up to a Victorian-style front door, with stained-glass panels and matching panels above the door. To one side, a piece of driftwood was attached to the wall with the words Saltwater Nook painted in a flowing script. This was it!

Chapter 9

Annie rang the doorbell and stepped back down a couple of stairs to wait. After a moment or two a high-pitched voice called: “I’m coming!”

After three or four more minutes, she heard locks being drawn back, and the front door opened to reveal a tiny woman, no more than four foot six. Her long white hair was drawn up into a loose but neat bun on the top of her head and her cheeks looked like pink velvet. She smiled when she saw Annie, and her pale gray eyes crinkled at the edges like crepe paper.

“Hello, my dear!” said the woman, ushering Annie inside. “I’m Mari. You must be Annie. And right on time too!” she trilled. “Now just wait one moment . . .”

Mari pulled a mobile phone out of her cardigan pocket and held it up to her face, squinting. Then she squinted at Annie. Then back at the phone.