It was a joy, working for a local newspaper that so many members of the community relied upon and which had been a part of their family for over a hundred years. I felt as if I were achieving something; giving something back to the sleepy seaside town where I was born and brought up.

I could smell the sea air from my desk, listen to the gulls bickering over the waves, and I could actually relax and take a breath when I got home.

I inspected the array of tasty breads again in the deli window. Even though it was only the first day of October, the deli owners had enthusiastically placed a couple of small pumpkins in the window, together with plastic bats and a witch’s broom.

The idea of Doug being called to a snap finance meeting like that in town niggled me. For the two years I had been working at the paper, Head Office always made sure they gave Doug a clear heads-up on when these meetings were due to take place and on the odd occasion when he couldn’t attend or was on holiday, Frances would take his place. I recalled her saying that they were an utter pain in the arse, but that they were well-organised and the minutes and papers were emailed through ahead of time.

Something about this didn’t seem right.

I inwardly rolled my eyes and tried to give myself a reassuring internal talking-to as I continued to hover outside the deli window. There was a stiff breeze working its way from up the beach and I huddled deeper into my coat. I caught sight of my pensive expression in the glass, with my smattering of cinnamon freckles across my nose, and pushed my array of spirally, conker-brown hair away from my face.

No. Stop, Leonie. Don’t catastrophise. Crikey, I would have myself out of a job in a minute!

I sucked in a sweep of air, clotted with seaweed and salt, and tried to be more rational. That meeting Doug had been summoned to could be about anything. Anything at all. Doug was always a bit on-edge before these sorts of “shit-shows”, as he called them, anyway. And remember what Frances said about Cheryl, reminded a voice. The long hours and late nights he had been pulling. That would explain his tetchy, barking moods of late.

Maybe it was all to do with him and Cheryl having marriage problems and had nothing to do with work after all.

Yes. That would be it. I was letting my imagination run ahead of me.

I glanced down at my watch. Shit! Frances would start chewing her keyboard if I didn’t return with her salmon and cucumber salad bagel in the next ten minutes.