‘It would be great if you had somewhere to record daily sightings,’ the keen twitcher then suggested, ‘then other folk could add to the list throughout the week.’

‘Why not use part of the chalkboard?’ I said to Sophie.

Almost half a wall was taken up with a menu board and, in truth, it looked a bit empty, with just the dish of the day written in Sophie’s cursive hand. It was easy to reach and would make a great focal point.

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ she agreed.

‘Great,’ smiled the chap. ‘And perhaps you could add the daily tide times, they’re always handy to know.’

‘And a weather symbol of two, for the morning and afternoon,’ Sophie suggested.

I left the café feeling content and as if my holiday was finally underway. Helping Sophie had pulled me out of the fug I had fallen into and even though I still had lots to think about I realized I needed to strike a balance if I was going to make some real headway. Shutting myself away in the cottage with only Mum’s diary for company and the temptation to turn my phone on was definitely not the way to go. Succumbing to dark thoughts and isolated misery wouldn’t help me make any progress at all.

*

‘Well now,’ said George when I walked into the Smuggler’s that evening, ‘we’d all but given up on you, hadn’t we, Sam?’

‘I have to admit,’ Sam confirmed, with a twinkle in his eyes, ‘that I was beginning to think the weather had got the better of you and you’d left already.’

His mischievous tone was exactly what I needed to round off the day. It might have been dangerous stepping closer to that smouldering touchpaper again, but with George acting as chaperone I was willing to risk it.

‘Sorry to disappoint you, lads,’ I told them both with a grin to match Sam’s, ‘but you’re stuck with me for a bit longer yet.’

‘Oh no,’ George chuckled, ‘now that really is bad news, isn’t it, Sam?’

Sam looked at George and shook his head and I got the impression that my presence in the village might well have been the topic of conversation between the pair and I would have very much liked to know what had been said.

‘So, what can I get you, Tess?’ Sam asked me, ignoring George who then went to sit with another customer.

‘Um,’ I said, looking along the row of pumps, ‘I think I’ll have half a pint of Wherry please.’

‘Coming right up.’

The pub was far more crowded than when I had been in earlier in the week. It was hardly heaving but the level of chatter and laughter seemed to bring the place to life and coupled with the palpable relief that it was finally Friday, it felt like a merry place to be.