Anna chewed her bottom lip. ‘I think I’ll take a drive over and see what I can see.’

‘You could walk it,’ Pat suggested. ‘It’s a nice day and the sea’s fair. It’ll be beautiful out there at the moment.’

‘There’s not a path between Crovie and Gardenstown, is there?’ Anna asked, surprised.

‘There is,’ Pat told her. ‘Come out and I’ll point you to it. The snook, we call it. I’d come with you but I’ve got to get the sea-view room sorted for these visitors. Not that I’m complaining. Roll on the summer season, that’s what I say.’

Nine

The path from Crovie to Gardenstown – known locally by its old name, Gamrie – had been built along the cliff that jutted out into the bay between the two settlements, forming a narrow passage above the tideline. To get to it, Pat said, Anna needed to walk down through the car park. There she would find a narrow path, which was just visible from the front door of the Fishergirl’s Luck. Further on, as it rounded the cliff, this became a more formal concrete walkway.

‘It’s about a mile or so, straight into Gamrie,’ Pat said. ‘Wear good walking boots – at high tide the waves will splash across the path, and at the other end the beach is rocky. But it’s a lovely stroll.’

The day was blustery but warm as Anna set out, the early April weather showing promise. On one side the path was edged by the sheer weight of the cliff and on the other by thin chains strung between slim metal fenceposts, rusted red by the salt wind. Below, uneven rocks jagged the shoreline, slick with moss and seaweed, scenting the air as it decayed. Sea birds screamed on the wind above her head, a sound to which Anna was surprised to find herself becoming accustomed, despite the harsh and plaintive pitch of the gull’s piercing calls.

As the path rounded the promontory, Gardenstown opened up ahead of her. The oldest part of the town was closest to the water, built as Crovie had been by farmers cleared from other, richer lands further from the coast. As soon as she was on the other side of the cliff, the wind dropped to no more than a fresh whisper, and Anna realized how much more protected the larger village was compared to the exposed lip on which Crovie perched. Still, Gardenstown’s harbour was enclosed by sea walls built to give more protection than even the natural shelter of the bay provided, which probably explained why there were more boats moored within its confines. Most of them were pleasure boats, but two or three looked to her untrained eye as if they could be small fishing trawlers.