My favourite tale from the evening explained why the young sailor was painted on the village sign. Apparently, the lad had been in love with a girl from the village but her father wouldn’t allow the match. Heartbroken, the lad had signed up to crew on a ship heading for the Caribbean. If he couldn’t marry his life’s love, then he wanted to be as far away as possible.

The day before he was supposed to leave, he turned up to wish the girl goodbye but found her missing. She had left a note and her family were frantic. She had run off with the intention of stowing away on the ship so the pair could be together, but they never saw each other again.

The lad didn’t make it back to port before the ship set sail and news reached him that it was wrecked just three days into its journey. His love was lost and he killed himself shortly after. It was now said that he haunted the Wynmouth shoreline, walking backwards and forwards with a lantern, calling out to sea for the girl who had perished in the waves.

‘And that’s why I never walk Skipper on the beach at night,’ George quietly finished and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

‘That’s so sad,’ I sighed.

‘And scary,’ Joe shuddered. ‘I don’t much like the thought of ghostly apparitions walking up and down the beach. That sailor could be practically on your doorstep, Tess.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ I squeaked.

‘Don’t worry,’ he nudged, ‘Bruce and I will walk you home.’

There was no sign of Hope or Sophie when we left and all we got out of Sam was a terse nod.

‘Why do I get the feeling there’s not much love lost between you and our lovely landlord?’ I asked Joe, once we were outside in the refreshing but still blustery air.

‘Because there isn’t,’ he sighed, letting Bruce’s lead lengthen so he could explore the empty lane.

‘And why is that?’

Joe didn’t answer straightaway and I thought I’d over-stepped the mark. I wanted to ask how he knew Hope too, but he clearly wasn’t keen to share.

‘How about I take you out for coffee on Friday,’ he surprised me by suggesting, ‘somewhere further afield than Wynmouth, and I’ll tell you then.’

I was about to turn him down, but then I remembered my earlier determination to try and keep busy and besides, my curiosity about the situation was aroused, even if it wasn’t any of my business.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Great,’ said Joe, taking a step closer to help me as I fumbled with the rickety garden gate. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss my cheek, but he didn’t get the chance.