‘We will,’ Rose agreed. ‘I’ll be dreaming about that bisque for weeks. I’d ask you for the recipe, but I already know I’d never make it the way you do.’

They sat at Liam’s bench until long past four o’clock. Finally, wine finished, Bren’s broonie devoured and coffee drained, the party slowly broke up. Pat and Frank helped Anna carry the detritus into the kitchen, and when they came out again Anthony discreetly slipped her a fold of notes.

‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ he said. ‘It really has been wonderful – and, I think, a real privilege – both to meet you and to eat at your table, Anna.’

‘I can’t take this!’ Anna said, pushing the money back towards him without looking at it. ‘You were my guests, and you were very welcome.’

‘No, take it,’ he insisted, as Rose came up behind him, smiling warmly. ‘That was the best meal we’ve had all week. I know what effort went into it, and how much it should have cost.’

‘Please,’ Rose added. ‘We’ve had an experience here that we couldn’t have got anywhere else.’

Defeated, Anna accepted the cash. ‘Well, thank you,’ she said. ‘It’s been wonderful to meet you both. Maybe you’ll come back and visit us again sometime?’

They shook hands, and Rose pulled her into a brief hug.

‘Trust me, Anna,’ Anthony said. ‘The minute we hear that you’ve opened the Crovie Inn as a going concern, we’ll be booking one of these holiday cottages and a table in your restaurant every night.’

Eleven

The weather changed over the next few days – the wind got up and squalls of rain marauded along the coastline beneath an increasingly leaden grey sky. Anna watched Pat’s bed and breakfast guests from behind the muslin of her bedroom window as they walked first one way and then the other along the sea wall, dodging the waves big enough to breach its height. She wondered what had brought them here: whether they had found what they had been looking for.

Having hidden away indoors for a week, working on her cookbook, on Sunday Anna braved the wind and rain for another cliff walk with Glynn, David and Bill. Once back in Crovie she invited them into the Fishergirl’s Luck for a warming lunch of soup and fresh bread, which they ate on their laps while Bill spread out in front of the hearth. Outside, Liam’s bench stood firm, already hardened against the worst that Scottish weather could bring as it waited patiently for another day bright enough for guests.

Anthony Linden’s words stayed with her. Give them a reason to stay a bit longer, even if it’s only at this table.