I made a few sympathetic noises and stuffed the newspaper under my arm.

I encouraged Harley on with a gentle twitch of her lead, debating whether to return to Scoops and treat myself to a double helping of pecan butterscotch. I felt like dollops of creamy, calorific ice cream might just improve my mood a little.

“Nice night for it!”

I squinted along the dark pavement

It was Netta, one of the local doctors. Her charcoal-grey suit was rumpled under her heavy winter coat and she was clutching her briefcase.

“Hard day at the surgery?”

She fired a hunk of dark-blonde bob behind one ear. “You could say that. A very stubborn lady with a recently diagnosed health condition is refusing my help.”

“Ah.”

Netta lifted her face and sighed as the night sea air washed over her.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to make her see sense.”

“I’m glad someone has faith in me.” She stooped down and ruffled Harley behind her ears. “Honestly, Leonie, sometimes I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle against an immovable force.”

“You’re a great doctor,” I smiled. “You know you are. All the locals ask to see you.”

Netta pulled a face. “That’s very nice of you to say so. They might ask to see me, but when it comes to listening to my advice, that’s another story.”

“You know what some of the locals are like. They can be crochety and stubborn, but they’re essentially good people. Your patient will come around.”

Netta dumped her case by her feet. “I wish I had your confidence. This patient is an intelligent, independent woman who lives alone. I’d have more luck getting through to her telepathically.”

An elderly couple wrapped up against the cold sauntered past, savouring their glistening ice creams and exclaiming at the moody vista of the beach that scooped its way out of the harbour and disappeared into the dark swell of sea.

“Does she have any family who can speak to her?” I suggested.

Netta dragged a hand down her face. Under the streetlights, she looked even more exhausted. “She’s lucky if she gives me the time of day, let alone confiding in me about anything. There doesn’t seem to be anyone she can rely on.” She played with one of the buttons on her vanilla shirt under her coat. “Ah well. I’ll stick with it and hope I can get through to her in the end, but I won’t hold my breath.”

I found my fingers gripping Harley’s sparkly pink lead tighter as I mulled over what Netta was saying.

My memory flashed up pictures of a pale, breathless Lily at her front door and then in her kitchen, the teapot set down as she composed herself; her hand flitting to her chest.