‘It’s costing me a fortune,’ he explained, his open expression clouding a little, ‘but the last one I had from the hospital has never really fit right and it’s been giving me grief for ages.’

‘Right,’ I said, ‘I see.’

‘I’m investing in myself instead of this place,’ he sighed, looking around the pub. ‘I just hope it’s not a mistake. It feels a bit self-indulgent, to be honest.’

It didn’t sound like a decadent purchase to me.

‘Personally,’ I told him, trying to imagine how painful an ill-fitting prosthetic must be, ‘I think it sounds more essential than self-indulgent.’

He smiled again, making my stomach flip, and I took another look around the pub as he welcomed a couple more customers and took their orders. The place looked absolutely spot on: exactly what you would expect to find in a quaint Norfolk seaside village.

‘I don’t think you need to worry about this place,’ I told him when he came back and then, thinking of my own sudden understanding of self-care, added, ‘sometimes you just have to put yourself first.’

I was hardly the greatest at practising what I preached just yet, but at least I’d made a start. That I had finally made it back to Wynmouth, as opposed to just daydreaming about the place, was proof enough of that.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said, fixing me again with his gorgeous green eyes and leaning further over the bar. ‘Now tell me, what wind blew you to Wynmouth, Tess? A regular holiday in the Norfolk seaside or something more complicated? Are you putting yourself first by any chance?’

They were all questions I really didn’t feel up to answering, especially as my thoughts were still in such a muddle. I could have said that I was simply on holiday or that I was taking a break from work, but the complication of Mum’s diary swam in front of my eyes, and I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth again for fear of blurting the whole sorry story out. Thankfully I was saved from having to formulate a response.

‘I see you’ve found your way to the best pub in town, my dear.’

I looked over my shoulder and saw the man I had spoken to earlier, and his dog, framed in the doorway.

‘What you mean, George,’ said Sam, winking at me as the man came further in, ‘is that she’s found her way to the only pub in the village.’