She’d been there less than two minutes before a shadow slanted against her face, swiftly followed by a single, sharp rap on the glass. Through it scowled an old man. Anna wound down the window.

‘Hel—’

‘You canna park here,’ he said. ‘Tis for residents only.’ He turned briefly to shake his cane at the backside of another sign she’d ignored. ‘Tourists have to park at the top an’ walk.’

‘But I am a resident,’ Anna told him. ‘I—’

‘B&B and holiday rentals dinnae count,’ he interrupted, still scowling. ‘Tourists park at the top.’

Anna decided that she was done being at a disadvantage and so unclipped her seat belt and pushed open the door. Once she was on her feet she stood a head over him, yet he remained imposing. His shoulders, hunched now, were still broad and must have once been powerful. Lines traced around his eyes and mouth, deep creases weathered by a life probably lived largely outdoors.

‘I’m not a tourist,’ she said. ‘I’m a resident. A permanent one. I’ve bought the Fishergirl’s Luck.’ Anna tried for a smile and put out a hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr…’

He recoiled as if she was holding out something offensive, then looked her up and down with clear contempt. ‘You?’ he hissed. ‘You’re the one?’

‘I… yes. My name’s Anna. Anna Campbell. I—’

He shocked her by turning away and spitting violently at the ground. ‘That bloody place,’ he said, ‘Auld Robbie should ha’ let the ruddy sea tek it.’ Then he turned his back and began to hobble away, faster than she would have given him credit for.

‘Wait,’ she called, after a moment. ‘Please, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. Can’t we talk, just for a minute?’

He didn’t stop. Anna watched his retreating back with a sense of dread. She leaned against the car, feeling suddenly defeated. She hadn’t even been here five minutes and her worst fears had been realized. This wasn’t going to be a haven. No one was going to want her here. A wave of nausea coiled up through her gut and she took a deep breath, drawing in a lungful of salt air. Overhead the gulls screeched and wheeled and for a moment it seemed to her that they were laughing.

Of course they are, she thought. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you go abroad, like Cathy suggested? You could have just rented a cottage in Spain, or Italy, somewhere warm. Why here? Why buy the damn place at all? Why?