George worked as a publisher’s rep and he travelled with a big wheelie suitcase full of books. Often he left copies for her children. Chloe liked some of them, the thick ones about other worlds, but although Ryan pretended to be interested he wasn’t a great reader. He took the books in order to please. At the back of Kate’s mind there was always a niggle of anxiety about Ryan. He was no real trouble, but despite his easy smile she suspected he was unhappy and she wasn’t sure what she could do about it. And there were occasional flashes of temper that reminded her of Rob. But Harbour Street took up all her time and her energy, and Stuart took up all of her dreams. Ryan had stopped talking to her years before. She told herself that the boy was still young, and that kids were complicated and never confided in their parents.

George had a wife, but they’d never had any children. He’d told her that once. He’d told her a lot of things during late nights, as he took his usual nightcap in the visitors’ lounge. He’d sip whisky and she’d look at her watch and wonder when he’d go to bed. She ran the guest house pretty much by herself. There was only Margaret to help in the kitchen, and the last few days she hadn’t been much use.

‘Have you had a good day, George?’

She knew that business was tough for him. He’d confided that too. ‘I wouldn’t know what to do, Kate, without my work. Books are what I live and breathe.’ She’d sensed that he didn’t need to work to earn a living. He had that laid-back confidence and careless attitude to money that comes with being born rich. She thought he wasn’t happily married, though even when he was very drunk he was never unpleasant about his wife. ‘My Diana is a marvel,’ he’d say, ‘a wonderful woman.’

Now he was shaking himself out of his overcoat. ‘Usual room, Kate?’

‘Of course.’ George liked the big room at the back of the house looking out over the sea and didn’t mind that it was the most expensive in the place. My bosses are used to London prices, Kate. They never quibble about my expenses.

‘I’m just here for a couple of days this time. Then on my way south again. Unless the snow is as heavy as the forecast. Then you might have an unexpected guest for Christmas dinner.’ He smiled sadly and she thought he’d love that. A proper family Christmas lunch with her and the kids, sitting around the table in the basement, him carving the turkey. But this year there would be Stuart too, and she wasn’t sure what George would make of that. She had a sneaky suspicion that George Enderby fancied her rotten.