‘One half,’ said Sam, setting the glass on the bar and taking the five-pound note I proffered.

I craned my neck to look behind him and then back over my shoulder.

‘What?’ He frowned, following my gaze.

‘Nothing,’ I shrugged.

‘Okay’ he shrugged back, going to get my change.

‘No,’ I told him, ‘I don’t mean there’s nothing wrong. I mean there actually is nothing.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘When I was in before you said you had your bank holiday plans in hand,’ I reminded him, ‘but I can’t see anything advertised. I thought you’d have a few posters up by now.’

Sam rolled his eyes.

What was it with the Wynmouth folk? First Sophie had seemed reluctant to get her café online and now Sam looked as if he’d rather do anything other than sell more beer. Was it just my marketing brain refusing to switch off, or were the local business owners I had come across so far genuinely unwilling to do a decent amount of business?

‘Don’t tell me,’ I sighed dramatically as I picked up my glass, ‘you haven’t really got anything planned at all, have you? You just said you had before to shut me up.’

I raised my eyebrows waiting for an answer.

‘Am I right,’ I pushed, ‘or am I right?’

‘No,’ Sam huffed, ‘you’re not.’

There didn’t seem to be much conviction behind his words.

‘Convince me,’ I said challengingly.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I have had a couple of ideas, but nothing concrete.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because,’ he said, sounding suddenly frustrated, ‘I really don’t have the time to organize anything properly. In case you hadn’t noticed, mine and some part-time help are the only pairs of hands running this pub. It might not be that busy, but there’s really no free time, Tess and I can’t afford to throw money at some half-arsed attempt at entertainment. If I can’t do it right, then I’d rather not do it at all.’

That rather took the wind out of my sails. When I first struck up the conversation, I had assumed he just couldn’t be bothered, but now it seemed that it was a timing issue rather than not making an effort.

‘That’s pretty ironic, isn’t it?’ I said, just as he was about to walk away.

‘What is?’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘you have no time at all, and since I’ve arrived, I’ve found I’ve got far too much of it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Too much time twiddling my thumbs waiting for the weather to clear,’ I said, taking a pull at my beer, ‘it’s just got to me a bit, that’s all.’

‘Well, you can take this on if you want,’ he said. ‘If you’ve got nothing better to do.’

‘Take what on?’

‘Organizing the pub’s bank holiday entertainment.’

My gaze snapped back up to his.