Anna sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress and its plastic crackle beneath her. How could she live here? She’d done exactly the same as with that horrible room she’d spent three years in when she’d first moved to London – she’d daydreamed something that didn’t exist. Of course it didn’t! How did she imagine she could pay the pittance that she had for this place and end up with anything better? It was exactly as Geoff had often said, she had no grasp on reality. Stop writing cheques your brain can’t pay for. Accept your limitations for once, why don’t you?

She’d spend one night here, Anna decided, because she was too tired to go and find somewhere else to stay, but that was it. At least there was a fresh mattress for her to sleep on, and the one thing she had bought before coming was a new duvet and pillows.

As Anna walked back through the village she noticed that outside some of the houses was a kind of low wooden barrow, with two wheels and handles for pushing or pulling it along. Each had a number painted on it that corresponded to the house number to which it belonged. When she got to her car, she saw an area at the back of the small parking space, beside the recycling bins, that held more of these little vehicles. Right at the front was one painted with the name of the Fishergirl’s Luck. It was to make transporting goods along the sea wall to each house easier, Anna realized. Another ingenious invention that made living somewhere so inaccessible a little more manageable.

She didn’t bother pulling her barrow out. After all, she only wanted a few things from the back of her car. The rest could stay there, because otherwise she’d only have to put everything back in again when she left tomorrow.