‘Thank you so much,’ Anna said, relieved beyond belief.

‘You’re welcome. Can I help you with your boxes?’

‘There’s really not much to move. I’ll be fine now. I’m just going to… explore for a bit, first.’

Frank nodded and stepped back, apparently understanding her need to cross alone through a door he knew but she didn’t. ‘Well then, give us a knock if you need anything. We’ll be away to bed at around eleven, but any time before that, all you have to do is shout. A hand, a hammer, tea, chocolate, wine, whisky or company – whatever you need. All right?’

Anna smiled. ‘Thank you – again. I didn’t expect to meet such lovely neighbours so quickly.’

Frank shrugged. ‘No call to be any other sort now, is there? We’re glad you’re here, love. If this place needs anything, it’s new life. Why don’t you pop over for breakfast tomorrow? Nine thirty. If we see you, we see you. If we don’t, that’s fine too.’

He left her then. Anna stood on the step of the cottage, one hand on the open door. She took a deep breath and pushed at it, stepping inside and then closing it behind her. Directly inside the door was another, forming a tiny vestibule, the walls of which had been built from pitch pine. Behind her, she could still hear the wind, but ahead of her the air was still, the hall space acting as an airlock against the weather outside.

Anna pushed open the second door and a waft of stale air rolled out to meet her. The space beyond was gloomy, though a faint light was being cast by the small windows. She fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on, frozen in the doorway as she looked around in the harsh glare from overhead. Even from where Anna stood it was obvious that no one had been inside the Fishergirl’s Luck for quite some time. Dust eddied in the air and had settled on every available surface, leaving a grey film that made everything dull.