Everything felt different when I woke the following morning. It took a moment to realise that the strange lightness in my body wasn’t a sign of illness – it was a lack of tension. While I knew it wouldn’t last (I wasn’t insane) I prolonged the sensation by soaking in a bath piled high with bubbles, instead of taking my usual five-minute shower, and read a Sweet Valley High book of Meg’s that I’d never got around to returning. The main characters, the Wakefield twins, were more her than me, with their ‘shoulder-length blonde hair and green-blue eyes’ and it was unlikely Scotland Yard would have taken them on as interns, but I found myself engrossed.

When a rap sounded on the door, the book slid through my fingers and plopped into the water. ‘Just to say, there’s a suitcase on top of our wardrobe if you want to take it,’ Mum said, sticking her head round the door. ‘Cassie, where are you?’ I bobbed up, cradling a pulpy mass in my hands. ‘Is it papier mâché?’ She edged in for a closer look, smiling when I shook with laughter. ‘You’re in a good mood,’ she approved, taking the soggy mess and depositing it in the bin. I resolved to order Meg a new copy – and maybe a couple more in the series for myself. ‘Your wrist looks a bit better.’

‘It’s not itching,’ I said, studying the livid patch. ‘I’ll keep using the cream though.’

‘We’ll miss you, you know.’ Mum perched on the side of the bath. She’d pinned her hair at the sides, revealing her dainty ears, and her eyes had gone a bit misty. ‘It’s been so nice, having you here.’

I flicked some bubbles at her. ‘It’s not like I’ll be a million miles away.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ Her smile bounced back. ‘Your dad and I are off to the café now,’ she said. ‘We’re going to talk to Gwen about, you know.’ Her eyes expanded. ‘Being our new manager.’

‘That’s great, Mum. Just make sure she knows she has to keep her cat in the office, and not in the café.’

‘She doesn’t have a cat.’ Mum rose, brushing at a damp patch on her trousers.

‘She will, soon.’ I blew her a soapy kiss as she backed out of the bathroom, and she pretended to catch, then drop it, then pick it up and put in her cardigan pocket.

‘Too much, Mum,’ I said, laughing.

I looked at the door for a few seconds when she’d gone, glad that I’d decided not to come clean in the end. The temptation to confess that I’d been fired, and that my job hadn’t always been the glamorous and exciting roller coaster I’d made it out to be had been overwhelming after I’d talked to Adam. But looking at their happy, expectant faces when I’d returned to the living room, I’d wondered what it would achieve; other than getting it off my chest. Things still felt a bit fragile between us, and I knew Mum and Dad would end up blaming themselves. They’d only just come to terms with Rob’s full disclosure about how miserable he’d been. It would have felt selfish to tell them I hadn’t been happy at Five Star, especially as I hadn’t fully realised it myself. I had assumed that the stress and Carlotta’s outbursts were simply part of the job. The sort of thing employees everywhere had to put up with. Maybe, one day, when everything had settled down – perhaps in twenty years – I’d tell them and we could laugh about it, and reflect how it didn’t matter any more, because I’d eventually got to where I wanted to be.

I started when a fist pounded the door. ‘Hurry up, Sandra, I need a sh—’

‘God’s sake Rob, I’ll be out in a minute.’

‘I was going to say shave.’

It was the first time I’d heard Emma giggle, and the sound was oddly encouraging. She’d stayed over in the end, after driving a tipsy Nan back to her cottage, and I’d fallen asleep to a soundtrack of her and Rob’s low-voiced murmurs in the room next door.

‘And Em might need to throw up.’

I clambered out and, swaddled in a towel, returned to my bedroom to dress and pack, which wouldn’t take long, considering a lot of my stuff was still in my suitcase.

‘Call us later, Cassie,’ Dad shouted up the stairs. ‘Love you.’

‘Love you more,’ I shouted back.

‘Love you to the moon and back,’ Rob called from the bathroom.

There was the sound of thundering feet on the landing and Emma’s panicked voice yelled, ‘Get out of the way, Rob, I’m going to be—’

I winced at the sounds that followed, and hoped Rob was holding her hair back. It was a far cry from his life as a musician, even though that had probably involved a fair bit of sick as well.

When I’d finished packing, I dressed in the outfit I’d left out, and loaded my hair in a messy bun before clunking my bags and suitcase downstairs.

There was a plate of fresh croissants in the kitchen, but my stomach was fluttering with nerves as I thought about what lay ahead, so I poured some coffee and sipped it slowly at the table, before pulling my sketch pad over and taking out my pencils.

‘We’re going to the café for breakfast,’ Rob said, appearing freshly shaved, with his hair flattened down and a newly ironed T-shirt over his jeans. ‘It’s going to be our new Saturday-morning thing.’

‘It’s good to have a thing,’ I said, smiling when Emma appeared at his side, pale but smiling, in her outfit from the night before. ‘Try some ginger tea, Emma, it might settle your stomach.’

‘It won’t,’ she said, not breaking her smile. ‘But, thanks.’

‘What are you drawing?’ Rob strained to look, but I covered the sheet with my arm. ‘Please yourself.’ He tugged a strand of hair out of my bun.

‘You’re such a pain,’ I said, trying to stuff it back in.

‘And what the hell are you wearing?’ He looked at my old trainers.

I jigged my feet at him. ‘Shouldn’t you be going?’

‘Shouldn’t you?’

I glanced at the clock, feeling my heart speed up. ‘Soon,’ I said.

‘Do you want us all to wave you off, or something?’

‘I think I’ll be OK, thanks.’ I made a shooing motion. ‘No offence, but I’m busy.’

‘Stop being a pain, Rob.’ Emma rolled her eyes and dragged him away. I was warming to her by the minute.

Although my drawing was simple, I wanted it to be perfect, and spent ages going over the lines, taking care with the shading and detail, smudging in delicate colours here and there and, when I was satisfied, I rolled it up and slotted it carefully into my bag.

It was time to go.

---

Nan was in her living room when I arrived, arranging some of her knick-knacks on the windowsill. ‘I thought you were staying minimalist?’ I said, looking at the boxes scattered around.

‘That was before I knew I was going to have a great-grandchild.’ She stepped nimbly over a bag to give me a hug. She was wearing one of her robes again, but her hair was in a neat chignon and her mouth bore a trace of lipstick. ‘Everything outside is staying, after all Danny’s hard work.’

‘Even the compost toilet?’

‘Mon dieu.’ She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘I only used it once and that was enough.’ She shuddered. ‘I’m all for being environmentally friendly, but I want to do my business where I won’t get my bottom stung.’

‘Who wouldn’t?’ I said. ‘You can still do your bit for the environment, without peeing outdoors.’

‘I’ll carry on using recycled loo paper.’

‘Good,’ seemed to be the only response to that. A movement by the window caught my eye. ‘Is Danny here?’ I said, though it was obvious he was. I’d recognised his shape. ‘I need a word, if you can spare him.’

‘Have as many as you like, chérie. I told him he didn’t need to stay once he’d dropped off this lot, but he insisted on fixing the wobbly hinge on the gate.’ She pulled some thickly lined curtains from a bag. ‘I don’t like bare windows at night,’ she announced, throwing them over her shoulder. ‘They’re going back up.’

Danny was putting his tools away when I entered the garden, and didn’t look particularly surprised to see me. ‘Couldn’t stay away?’ He grinned, and my heart tripped. ‘Nice outfit,’ he said, eyes sweeping my top and trousers.

‘Wish I could say the same.’ He was wearing a creased pink polo-shirt with the collar flicked up, his jeans were covered in oil stains, and his hair was all over the place. ‘You’re looking at my mouth again,’ he observed. ‘Is that why you’re here and not in London?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ I hitched my bag onto my shoulder. ‘I just wondered whether you’d like to come for a walk.’

He swiped his forearm across his forehead. ‘Better late than never,’ he said, eyes scrunched against the sun. April was going overboard on the sunny weather. ‘As long as you’re not going to try and kiss me again.’

My face felt like it had been microwaved. ‘Are you coming, or not?’

‘Yes, ma’am!’ He saluted and leapt over his toolbox, pausing for a moment to give me a searching stare. ‘Let me just say cheerio to Sylvia.’

---

We didn’t say much on the way to the coastal path, where he’d invited me to walk with him the evening Adam had turned up. It was as if he sensed I had something important I was working up to saying, and was trying to make it easy by sticking to easy topics, like work – he had more gardening jobs than he could handle – and his sister, Louise, who was taking a trip to Japan with her partner, and how he was planning to watch Breaking Bad even though he was years behind everyone else.

‘I hope you’re not going to push me off,’ he said, when we’d reached the spot where I’d stood with Adam on games night, and read Danny’s message in the sand. ‘It’s not actually that high, so I’ll probably land on my feet.’ He turned to face me, eyes twinkling like the sea behind him, a quizzical smile on his handsome face.

I took a deep, quivering breath. ‘I saw it,’ I said, flinging my arm in the direction of the beach. ‘What you wrote, that night.’

His smile faded like the sun going in. ‘I did wonder.’ He glanced over his shoulder, as if it might still be there. ‘But when you didn’t mention it…’

‘I couldn’t,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know what to say.’ His eyes moved back to mine. ‘But now I do.’ Before losing my nerve completely, I slid the rolled up picture out of my bag and handed it to him with trembling fingers. ‘I wanted to write it in the sand like you did, but there isn’t a full moon tonight, and I thought if I did it this morning the tide might come in and wash it away, or some kids would mess it up, so…’ I ran out of steam. There was no option but to endure him studying my drawing, with no idea of how he would respond.

‘I like you too,’ he read out loud, turning the page for me to look at, even though I knew that the words were drawn inside a heart in golden sand, with the letters C and D at the top and bottom. I hadn’t been able to resist adding some waves, a starfish, and a couple of seashells, but the message was loud and clear.

‘It’s my response,’ I said. ‘To your message.’

‘I can see that.’ His voice was soft and querying, his face packed with emotion. ‘But… aren’t you going back to London?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not.’ Adam had been more understanding than I deserved when I’d called him the night before, to explain why I wouldn’t be applying for the job with Grace Dewsbury because I wanted to stay in Seashell Cove and become an artist. Not a Connor Daley or a Vicky Burton type, but one who drew whatever she fancied – sad-eyed greyhounds, seascapes, or caricatures like the ones he’d seen on the wall of the café and dismissed – and that I couldn’t wait to start.

‘That person who slipped her business card into your pocket on the train,’ I’d said, trying not to cry. ‘It wasn’t me, Adam. I did it because I thought it was something I should do, because I wanted to be in a relationship. It was the same with my job. I was good at it, but I’d never really considered whether it was right for me. I was completely stressed all the time.’

‘But you seemed so composed at the café, with all those cats.’

‘Maybe on the surface.’ It was clear he thrived on pressure, and probably couldn’t understand what I was on about. ‘I’ve got eczema.’

He hadn’t responded to that but, instead, suggested I visit anyway, so we could talk face to face and he could take me out to dinner, but I’d made up my mind and knew I wouldn’t be swayed.

‘I know someone who’d love the job with Grace,’ I’d said, and gave him Nina’s number. ‘I’m sorry for wasting your time.’

‘I really hope you find what you’re looking for, Cassie.’ He’d sounded sad, but not heartbroken, and I knew he’d waste no time in moving on. ‘I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.’

It was the nickname that had really clinched it. Adam had been so keen for romance he’d seen what he wanted to see. Only Danny had had an inkling that things weren’t as they seemed, and he’d liked me anyway.

‘I saw your bags in the car, back at Sylvia’s,’ he was saying, returning me to the moment.

‘Oh, yes.’ I smiled. ‘I’m moving in with her for now. Mum and Dad really like their own routine, and Nan’s got plenty of room. We can keep each other company, and there’s space there for me to paint.’

He looked at the picture again, and back at me. ‘You’re going to be an artist?’

I laughed, because it sounded absurd, but also like the only thing I really wanted to do. ‘Better late than never,’ I said, feeling a rush of happiness. ‘I was actually fired from my job in London but I’m glad now, because I’ve realised I’m not cut out for event planning.’

‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘I heard you talking to your friends the other night, at the pub. I came out to see if you were OK.’

‘You did?’

‘It was obvious something wasn’t right. Until the moment you kissed me,’ he said. ‘That felt very right indeed.’ His tender smile made my heart soar. ‘So, if you’re staying, there’s every possibility we might keep bumping into each other.’

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I might even have hatched a plan to win you over.’

‘I think you just did.’ He pressed my picture against his chest, and the look in his eyes stole my breath. ‘Come here, you.’

I stepped into the space between us, and his arm slid around my waist and pulled me closer. When our lips finally met, his response was instant and somehow familiar, as if I’d been dreaming about it for a very long time.

‘Wow,’ he said, when we pulled apart, his eyes smiling into mine. ‘If you hadn’t won me over before, you have now.’ He slid the picture back into my bag with great delicacy, then slowly ran his hands down my arms and took my hands in his. ‘Can we do it again?’

‘Actually, that wasn’t how I was planning to win you over.’ My mouth wouldn’t stop smiling. I hadn’t thought it was possible to feel this good. ‘I’ve something even better in mind.’

‘Not possible,’ he said, letting me lead him back along the path, his hand strong and sure around mine. ‘Where are we going?’

‘There’s a barbecue later at the Smugglers Inn, and they’re doing karaoke.’ I looked over at the terrace outside the café. They were there, by the picket fence, waiting for me to join them; my friends, in strappy tops, combat trousers and ugly trainers. Legal Mystics, reunited.

‘Is that why you’re dressed like a nineties girl-band?’

‘It is.’ The look on Danny’s face made me laugh. ‘I’m going to win you over with the power of song,’ I said. ‘I hope you’re ready, Danny Fleetwood.’

---