‘But it’s sorted now,’ Hope smiled. ‘Not the hall yet, obviously, but the beach hut project, which everyone had their hearts set on in the first place. Wynter’s has saved the day. It’s safe and secure and already attracts hundreds of visitors. It’s the best possible place for everyone to be.’

‘It does sound like the ideal amalgamation,’ I agreed.

‘It is,’ she said. ‘You must be so proud of what your dad created. He really helped put Wynmouth on the map and I just know everyone who has signed up to sell in the huts feels the same way.’

I felt unexpectedly choked knowing Dad’s legacy still meant so much.

‘Do they?’

‘Of course,’ said Hope. ‘Business start-ups, especially in the current economic climate, need all the help they can get. I should know, I’ve set up my own in the last couple of years and being able to put everyone who is in the same boat, in the same place, with the business your dad created as a backdrop is going to be just the boost we all need.’

She certainly sounded excited about it all and not for the first time, I acknowledged that Ned had struck on something wonderful that had the potential to benefit a lot of people.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘like I mentioned before, it’s really nothing to do with me. This is all Ned’s hard work. I’m just a silent partner. It’s been years since I’ve even visited.’

‘But you’re back now,’ Hope winked. ‘And rumour has it, for good. I just know that with the two of you working together, the place is going to go from strength to strength.’

I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise, but neither did I want her assuming that I was back in Wynmouth forever. I would have to talk to Ned and ask him what we were going to tell people before everyone jumped to the wrong conclusion. The future of Wynter’s Trees was in his hands now and the sooner folk knew that, the better.

Chapter 5

Still full from my delicious lunch and digesting Hope’s mention of the rumour which suggested that I was back in Wynmouth to run Wynter’s Trees with Ned, I didn’t much fancy cooking the ingredients I’d picked up for my dinner, but they didn’t go to waste.

I had planned a lazy Sunday lie in when I climbed the stairs to bed that night, but Ned was up and crashing about long before it was light and I found him in something of a tizz when I gave in, got up and went to begin a stint at the stove.

‘Good morning,’ I said, making an effort to sound cheerier than I felt.

‘Hey,’ he responded, barely looking up from the desk drawer he was rifling through.