A few people had asked if there would be fireworks to see out the end of the longest day, but Hope explained that as you never knew where the spent waste was going to end up, they weren’t the best idea for an area which had just undergone its first volunteer-led beach clean. As an alternative, I had suggested sparklers which could be plunged into buckets of damp sand for collection and efficient disposal.

‘They’re not exactly eco-friendly,’ I said, thinking of the cocktail of chemicals which went into them, ‘but they’ve got to have less impact than fireworks.’

Hope hadn’t been sure about the idea, but when someone suggested sky lanterns, she hastily relented.

‘I think I’m going to give a little talk about the dangers of some of the things that get washed up before I start each of the beach-cleaning sessions,’ she said seriously. ‘Those lanterns might look pretty but they’re an absolute hazard and I’m amazed that so many people still don’t know that they’re banned around here.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ I said, thinking back to a story in a local paper which had covered a minor celebrity’s birthday celebration on one page and on the next, the fire which had been caused by the thirty lanterns which had been released to celebrate the three-decade milestone. ‘You’ll have a captive audience.’

‘I don’t want to come across as all preachy though,’ she frowned.

‘It’s not preachy if you’re raising awareness,’ I told her.

‘That’s all right then,’ she nodded, ‘and with any luck, the lanterns will be banned nationwide before long. Joe told me that Charlie had found a barn owl completely tangled up in one the other day. It had been dead for a while.’

‘That’s awful,’ I shuddered, thinking of the beautiful bird before wondering when this conversation had taken place.

‘Charlie was devastated,’ she said sadly.

The sparklers were stored in a box under one of the three trestle tables which had been lined up and covered in a vibrant patterned oilcloth borrowed from Sophie. She had closed the café early to ensure she had enough time to transport all the food she had made, along with Hope’s cookies and a vast amount of secret-ingredient rum punch, down to the beach.

‘I’m so pleased that the sun has decided to put in an appearance,’ she said, puffing out her cheeks as she handed over a heavy box to one of the many people who had turned up to help. ‘When I watched the forecast at the beginning of the week, I thought we were going to be celebrating the longest day under a blanket of cloud!’

‘Oh blankets,’ tutted Hope, scouring her list. ‘I knew there was something.’