Chapters (39)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Epilogue
- Author’s note
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
‘I know it’s a lot to put on you, and today of all days,’ said her friend, grasping Anna’s hand again. ‘We – I – am not trying to trap you into anything. I want to be very clear about that. I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay. It’s another option, that’s all, and God knows none of us will hold it against you if you don’t take it.’
Pat went back to the wake a short while later, but Anna felt that she needed some space.
She walked slowly down to the harbour. The water was still calm, the waves barely enough to break white against the sea wall. As she looked across at Crovie, a single shaft of sunlight broke through the cloud and glanced against the roof of the Fishergirl’s Luck. From here it didn’t seem damaged at all. It seemed whole, as self-contained as it had been when Bren had first converted it into a home.
Anna made her way towards the village. The snook that ran around the base of the cliff was clogged with debris thrown up by the storm – rotting seaweed, bits of old net, sand, rocks and mud. It took her some time to pick her way along the route. When she reached the village, it was as silent as it had been two days before. Anna wiped the worst of the detritus from her shoes and stood looking up at the Inn. It seemed as untouched as it had during her last visit.
She passed it, walking carefully along the sea wall to the Fishergirl’s Luck. Inside, sound was muted, overlaid by the intermittent flap and ripple of the tarpaulin that had been fixed over the broken roof. For a moment Anna stood listening to the sound of the gentle sea filtering in from outside, such a contrast to the event that had brought her here, to this point. A bright shaft of sunlight gleamed through the cloud – she could see it gilding the tiny window over the sink, naked of its shutters – and blue light suffused the room, refracted through the tarp. Anna lifted her face, for a moment feeling as if she and the Fishergirl’s Luck had been caught in the tank of some huge aquarium.
Anna wandered about. She wanted to go upstairs but dared not risk it. From beneath the tarp came the pervasive smell of damp. Everything in her bedroom would be ruined, she knew, as would the wardrobe and probably all her clothes. Maybe even the floor.