As Tori Graham navigated her way down the tight country, cliff-top lanes, she caught her first glimpse of the indigo sea, glittering and twinkling through the trees, and she felt some of the tension in the back of her neck seep away.

She needed this break. Having been locked away in a darkened studio almost every day for the past year and a half, she needed to feel the sun on her face, the wind in her hair and talk to people other than plasticine models or her colleagues who she had worked with on the latest stop-motion animation film. By the time shooting had finished, they’d all had tiny squinty mole eyes from the lack of seeing daylight for months on end. The studio had almost become her home with the amount of time she had spent there, which had been much more preferable to spending the evening alone in her flat every night.

She needed a break from that too. Even with the TV and radio playing, the flat had been way too quiet. She had never considered her best friend to be the loud and noisy type, but since Melody Rosewood had moved out of the flat they shared in London, she had missed the laughter, the silly conversations, just the sound of her clattering around in the kitchen.

Melody had suggested a long overdue visit to Sandcastle Bay and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Tori had missed her friend so much and she was looking forward to catching up with Melody, her sister Isla and their adorable nephew Elliot while she stayed here.

Melody had put Tori in touch with Emily Breakwater, whose family owned a fruit farm, and in return for help with some fruit-picking she was going to stay in Blossom Cottage for free. It was an idyllic-looking dusky-pink thatched cottage with views over the sea. It was going to be the perfect summer holiday.

Tori rounded the corner in her little sky blue convertible VW Beetle and slammed on the brakes because right in the middle of the road was a large sheep’s bum. Several sheep bums actually. The road, as far as she could see, was filled with fluffy white sheep that seemed in no hurry to move or even remotely bothered that they had nearly been mint sauce under the wheels of her car. To top it off there didn’t seem to be anyone with them, apart from a mangy old sheepdog who was fast asleep on the side of the road.

As the sheep moved lazily around the side of her car and then crowded around the back, effectively trapping her, she stood up and leaned over the windscreen of her car to see if she could spot anyone who might be in charge of this rabble.

As luck would have it, a middle-aged couple wearing bright yellow Lycra were walking towards her, pushing their bikes along the grassy bank at the side of the road. The woman was striding ahead of her husband who was huffing and puffing in her wake.

‘Excuse me, do you know what’s going on?’ Tori gestured to the sheep, though that was obviously unnecessary.

The woman didn’t even break her stride. ‘It’s Saturday,’ she trilled as she strode past.

Tori stared at her in confusion. She said it as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Tori waited for further explanation, though it was quite clear that none was coming.

‘What does that mean?’

The man clearly thought this was a good excuse to stop. ‘Everyone knows not to take the west road on a Saturday,’ he shrugged, looking after his wife who had the word ‘Mindy’ emblazoned on the back of her neon vest. Tori wondered idly if her husband was Mork. Seeing that Mindy wasn’t looking, ‘Mork’ slipped a toffee from his pocket and quickly popped it into his mouth.

‘Well who’s in charge of the sheep?’ Tori asked.

‘That’ll be Trevor, he’ll be having his lunch right now. I’m sure if you wait an hour or two, he’ll move them along,’ Mork said, still huffing and puffing.

‘An hour or two?’ Tori echoed, incredulously. Her carefully laid plans were starting to crumble. This kind of thing never happened in London, an entire road closed for an hour or two. Everything moved fast there and, if it didn’t, drivers felt free to lean on their horns until something was done about the traffic. Though in this instance she suspected leaning on the horn wouldn’t achieve a fat lot. ‘What should I do for an hour or two?’

‘I’d suggest you go and get yourself lunch too. The Cherry on Top does a mean bacon sandwich, best in the village, especially with lashings of brown sauce,’ Mork said, dreamily.

‘And how would you know that?’ Mindy said, suddenly turning round, and he quickly swallowed his toffee before he had finished chewing it. He coughed and cleared his throat.

‘Just what I’ve heard, dear,’ he called after his wife. ‘Mindy and I are vegan,’ he explained to Tori. ‘And I’m on a diet, so no lovely, erm, horrible bacon sandwiches for me, but I’m sure you will love them. Just down the hill on the left, blue parasols; it sits right on Sunshine Beach, you can’t miss it.’

He trundled off despondently after his wife and Tori smiled at the matching writing emblazoned on his top. Mark. Mark and Mindy. Close enough. Poor Mark, he looked like he’d kill for a bacon sandwich.

She looked back down the hill. The Cherry on Top was Emily’s café. Emily had told her to pop in there to collect the keys to Blossom Cottage around three o’clock. Tori had planned to have a drive around the tiny seaside village first and get a feel for the place and meet up with Melody and Isla if they were free, but she guessed that she could change her plans. She looked back at the sheep. It didn’t look like she’d have much choice.

She grabbed her bag and locked the car door as she got out, though it was quite obvious that even if some opportunist car thief came along, they wouldn’t be able to go anywhere either.

She started her walk down the hill and the sheepdog eyed her with something that looked like a smirk at her predicament.

She fished her phone out of her bag and texted Melody and Isla to say she had arrived in Sandcastle Bay a bit earlier than expected, explained her predicament with the sheep and said she’d be in The Cherry on Top if they were free.

The emerald tree canopy above her provided shade from the sun for a while but as she rounded the corner and the trees cleared she saw the tiny village of Sandcastle Bay for the first time.

Most of the houses that tumbled down the hill were a gorgeous pale yellow with slate roofs that almost glistened blue in the sunshine. Some were round or had round towers, making them look like little sandcastles perched up on the hillside. There was a row of shops all facing out onto Sunshine Beach and a large village green with multi-coloured bunting fluttering gently in the sea breeze. At the foot of the hill there appeared to be a café which was probably The Cherry on Top, based on Mark’s description and the navy and turquoise parasols outside the front.

It looked picturesque.

She was leaning back against a garden fence to take a photograph of the idyllic view when she heard the strangest sound behind her. It sounded like a high-pitched squeaky child’s toy. She looked over the pale blue picket fence into the garden and saw a flash of black and red. Then the largest turkey that she had ever seen burst out from the garden gate, wings flapping, wattle wobbling under its beak as it launched itself at Tori.

She quickly stepped back and slipped in something slimy, landing on her knees in what was probably sheep poo. There was no time to dwell on that though as the turkey was still propelling itself towards her.

She scrambled to her feet and started running down the hill, her flip-flops flapping against her feet. To her surprise, the turkey chased her all the way down, still gobbling loudly. What would happen if the turkey caught her? Had anyone been savaged to death by a wild and angry turkey before? She guessed she would find out as, impossibly, the bloody bird was gaining on her with every step she took.