As with the rest of Puffin Island, her granny had accurately described this room: the wood-framed window overlooking the garden, the oak beams running the length of the ceiling, the impressive open fire. On the wall hung a number of photographs. She took a closer look and one immediately caught her eye. Standing in front of a boat was a handsome young man holding up the largest fish she’d ever seen in her life. This had to be Sam’s grandfather.
‘What was your grandfather’s name?’ Verity asked, hearing Sam walk back into the room.
‘Joe,’ he replied.
‘There was a Joe in my grandmother’s stories. I remember now.’ Verity couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. ‘Let me think…’ She was quiet for a second. ‘Joe, that’s right, he was destined for greater things, and…oh my…yes, a musician…’ Verity was tripping over her words. ‘She told me a story that he was in a band and was signed to a record label and was about to go on tour with none other than Bowie.’ Verity laughed. ‘Of course, I do know some of the stories had to be fictional.’
Sam looked amazed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Because that’s all true.’
Now it was Verity’s turn to look amazed.
Sam placed two mugs on the table before passing Verity a towel. ‘Here, drink that. At least your lips are a little less blue and you’ve stopped shivering.’
‘I think amazement has taken over the shock.’
Draping the towel around her shoulders, Verity pointed to the photograph. ‘That has to be your grandfather. You look just like him.’
Sam stood beside her. ‘It is. That was the biggest catch of the day.’
‘If I’d known there were fish as big as that in the bay you would never have got me in that water.’ She turned and looked around the room. ‘I have to say, I wouldn’t have put you down as a cosy cottage kind of guy.’
‘And what would you have put me down as?’
‘Modern apartment, minimal things, large TV and the latest technology.’ Verity sat back on the chair and hugged the mug of tea.
‘That sounds like complete hell to me. Let me go and get you some warm clothes. I’m afraid it’ll have to be a pair of my joggers, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt. I don’t have many dresses in my wardrobe.’ He smiled at her as he walked out of the door. Returning in five minutes, he handed her a pile of clothes. ‘There’s a bathroom just?—’
‘Down the hall to the left,’ Verity finished off his sentence.
Sam cocked an eyebrow. ‘Your granny was very thorough with her descriptions.’
‘Do you, or did you, have a rope swing that hangs from an old oak tree at the side of the garden, and a gate that takes you straight down to a cove?’
‘I do. And you have…a postcard?’
Verity nodded. ‘What’s your gut feeling? Do you think the postcard could be from your grandfather?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Wait there.’
Sam watched as Verity hurried back down the hallway and grabbed her rucksack from the coat stand. Returning to the living room she plonked herself on the green velvet sofa next to him and rummaged in her bag. ‘Here, take a look at this.’ She handed him the postcard. ‘It’s from your grandfather, isn’t it? Have you got anything from that summer? Did your grandfather have any photographs from that time? Anything that would link them?’
Sam shook his head, and walked over to the dresser. He took out a small notebook then sat on the couch next to Verity. He opened the book and laid the postcard next to the first page.
‘What’s that?’
‘This was my grandfather’s wages book. He used to log his work hours, the days and times, and in this column the weight of the fish, as he got paid by the weight of the fish he caught. As you can see, some days were better than others.’ Sam pointed to the writing on the page and then at the postcard. ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, Verity, but I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. The handwriting in this book and the postcard are different. Look at the letters.’
Verity examined both carefully.
‘I do believe they knew each other, because how would you know about this place unless you’re some sort of stalker or psychic? But as for the postcard, I don’t think it was from him,’ he said gently.
Verity felt disappointed. She so badly wanted the postcard to be from Joe as it would solve some of the mystery. ‘Do you find it fascinating that they were probably sat here together back then and now here we are? I do.’
‘It is a little surreal, I must admit. Even harder to believe, given that our paths crossed because of a chance meeting outside a greasy spoon.’
‘It was fate. The universe brought us together for a reason.’
