Anna checked her watch – it was coming up to three in the afternoon. She had a chef’s knowledge of how the British fishing fleet worked, having been on shopping runs to Billingsgate fish market on numerous occasions. Working with the tides, out at night, back in the ultra-early morning, the fish for purchase there came from all over the UK, but not, she suspected, from tiny Gardenstown on the Moray Firth. Still, their fishing hours were likely to be similar. With any luck, Anna would arrive in time to find one of the crew to talk to before they set out for the night’s catch.

The harbour was quiet as she reached it, but voices carried to her across the water. Three men kitted out in knitted sweaters worn under heavy-duty waterproof dungarees were hefting nets on the deck of one of the trawlers. The rest of the place seemed to be deserted. As she walked along the harbour wall towards them they looked up at her with brief nods and then away again, resuming their conversation.

‘Hi,’ Anna called. ‘Can one of you spare a moment?’

They stopped talking again, looking at her and then at each other before one of them dropped what he was holding and came closer. He leaned on the trawler’s rail with a smile. Anna estimated him to be in his late twenties, with dark hair cropped short above a tanned face and square, stubbled jaw. His eyes were the colour of a turning sea under eyebrows thick enough to make him seem intense. It was the kind of face, Anna thought, that probably got younger women into a lot of trouble: a lot of younger women, frequently.

‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, as behind him the other two men finished their task and disappeared below deck.

The lack of Scots burr took her by surprise, as did the presence of a very different kind of accent.

‘You’re a long way from home,’ she said. ‘Kiwi, right?’

He smiled again. ‘Right. Good ear. Most people say Australian.’

‘I don’t want to hold you up,’ she went on. ‘Someone mentioned that you might be able to sell me some fish.’

He shifted against the rail. ‘Our stock’s all for Fraserburgh.’

‘Okay. Is there any other boat coming into the harbour that might be able to help me? I’d rather use a local supplier than schlep over to Fraserburgh to buy something wrapped in plastic.’

He turned his head and looked out over the water for a moment, contemplating. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, you could charter someone to take you out, if you wanted…’

Anna shook her head. ‘Too much money, not to mention time. I’m only looking for enough for three lunchtime meals.’

‘What fish?’

‘Whatever’s good and fresh out of the water.’