He grinned. ‘And yet, here we are.’
She gave him a playful shove, but he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, causing a swarm of fireflies to flutter frantically in her stomach.
Daniel let the moment linger before he added, ‘I had an errand to run so I had to get off the train early, but when I arrived back on the island I bumped into Amelia. I had a feeling it was you who was coming to take over the shop, so I told her to look out for you.’
Fern gasped, her head snapping around to face him. ‘Youwere the one who said I was the sort who drinks overpriced lattes, wears designer coats and will probably see inheriting the shop as a massive inconvenience. That was you? You told her that?’
His grin widened. ‘Guilty. But was I lying? I rest my case.’
‘Unbelievable!’ she exclaimed, though she took it all in good humour.
‘Never fear,’ he said smoothly, reaching into his rucksack, ‘I’m going to make it up to you.’
He pulled out a neatly packed brunch: a basket of fresh pastries, strawberries, a small jar of Nutella and even a bottle of fizz. The sight of it stole her breath for a moment.
‘You did all this?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Of course I did,’ he said with a wink. ‘Figured if I was going to spend a train journey with a snooty Londoner, I might as well keep her in good spirits.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Well, I suppose I can forgive you– after a glass of that, at least.’
Daniel expertly popped the bottle open with a quiet hiss. Unfortunately, the cork shot out like a bullet, flying straight down the aisle, only to be expertly caught in mid-air by the conductor just as he was approaching to check their tickets. He blinked at the cork in his hand before slowly shifting his gaze to Daniel, who grinned sheepishly.
‘Sorry,’ Daniel said.
‘You’re forgiven if it’s all in the name of romance. Tickets, please.’
Once all the food was laid out on the table in front of them, with two plastic cups for the fizz, Daniel showed Fern the empty rucksack.
‘What am I looking at? There’s nothing in there.’
‘Exactly. I forgot to pack my clothes for the night.’
Fern laughed. ‘So you remembered the jar of Nutella, but not your clothes?’
‘Priorities, Fern!’
‘You are something else!’
After a change of trains, it wasn’t long before they were due to arrive at Euston Station. Fern was leaning into Daniel’s chest, watching out of the window. The landscape had shifted from rolling countryside to the sprawling outskirts of London, the clusters of grey buildings and winding roads growing denser with each passing mile. Normally, this moment would bring a familiar flicker of excitement, a sense of return, of stepping back into the rhythm of home, but Fern didn’t feel like that at all.
In the distance, the unmistakable arch of Wembley Stadium loomed against the afternoon sky. Wembley had always been a landmark of significance, a beacon of London life, the place where music’s greatest legends had played, and it had always reminded her why she loved what she did, why she chased stories and lived for the pulse of the industry. But now, her thoughts were far from stadiums and interviews, far from the next headline, as her mind drifted to the tiny antiques shop on a sleepy island, where a moose’s head watched over a too-small bed, and a man with infuriatingly good hair was making her smile every day.
It was only days ago that she had stepped off a train in the opposite direction, bound for Puffin Island with every intention of closing the shop and leaving it behind. Instead, she had found herself tangled in a life far removed from the polished, predictable world she had built for herself in London. The carriage rattled over a junction, jolting her out of her thoughts. Euston was minutes away now.
‘Here we go!’ said Daniel, shoving all of the rubbish in a nearby bin. The doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and a sea of commuters started to spill out on to the platform. The carriage was actually rammed and they stayed seated until most of the commuters had left. Holding hands, they stood up, and Daniel reached up to take the suitcase down off the rack. Instead he did a double-take– their suitcase was no longer there!
‘Fern, we have a missing case and a missing wedding dress.’
Her pulse raced. ‘That dress is too valuable to lose.’ Panicked, she scanned the area. There was another suitcase on the rack but it wasn’t theirs. ‘Do you think someone has taken it by mistake or on purpose?’ They were the only ones left on the train. ‘We need to get off. Do we take the case that’s left orleave it there?’
‘Let’s take it to Lost Property. Maybe the person has realised their mistake and taken ours there too.’
‘Good idea.’
Daniel lifted the case down and Fern began to wheel it down the aisle. A moment of silence passed between them, punctuated only by the chaos of the station as they stepped onto the platform, and then, as if by divine intervention, Fern’s eyes locked onto a woman in a smart blazer, effortlessly wheeling a black case through the station. A very familiar black case.
‘There! That woman was sitting by us. That’s our suitcase! I’m sure of it! Yes, it has my black tag around the handle. She probably just didn’t notice as it’s so similar to every other black case.’
