The old woman sighed wistfully. ‘That’s how the best love stories start, you know. Unexpected. Unfinished.’
Fern shook her head. ‘This isn’t a love story.’
The old woman simply smiled. ‘We’ll see.’
ChapterThree
Feeling a pang of disappointment as the train carriage emptied, Fern sank back into her seat. Daniel was gone and now all she had to look forward to with each passing mile was the chaos of No. 17 Curiosity Lane. There was only one more stop, Sea’s End, when the coast finally came into view. The vast, endless stretch of sea contrasted sharply with her view back in London. Instead of towering buildings and crowded streets, the horizon seemed infinite, the water glimmering in shades of turquoise and silver, breaking against the rocks in a rhythmic, soothing pattern. Fern’s gaze swept across the dramatic coastline. It was beautiful, a wild beauty she didn’t often see.
Two minutes later the train pulled into the quaint station at Sea’s End, picture-perfect and exuding warmth and charm. The station was small but vibrant, with bright hanging baskets overflowing with petunias and geraniums in a riot of pinks, purples and reds, swaying gently in the breeze. The whitewashed station building, with its cheerful yellow trim, stood against the backdrop of a sparkling blue sky, accented by the sound of waves crashing in the distance. The platform was dotted with benches, all freshly painted, and a couple of friendly station staff waved as the train slowed to a stop. Gulls flew overhead, their calls mixing with the scent of the sea that filled the air. All she needed to do now was catch a bus across the causeway, and though she was three hours later than planned, she held on to the hope that the tide hadn’t turned yet, and she could still make it to the island.
She made her way to the bus stop just outside the train station entrance, where a small group of disgruntled passengers had gathered. After a couple of minutes, the verdict was clear: the bus had broken down. The next one wouldn’t bethere for hours, and by that time the causeway would be submerged under the rising tide. And Fern? She’d be stuck in the town.
Her fingers moved automatically, pulling out her phone to check for an Uber. A couple of hopeful taps and… nothing. No cars. No drivers.
She turned to a woman standing nearby. ‘There don’t seem to be any Ubers in the area?’
‘Ubers haven’t found their way here yet,’ came the reply.
‘Really? No Ubers?’
‘The causeway is walkable, if you don’t mind the unpredictable terrain, the encroaching tide or the ever-present chance of being pooed on by the gulls.’ The woman cackled with laughter.
This wasn’t how Fern had imagined her arrival, but she had no choice, she would have to embark on a potentially soul-crushing odyssey across the causeway. She set off, her suitcase bouncing painfully over the rough ground as she trudged forward, the causeway stretching endlessly before her.
* * *
When she finally stepped onto Puffin Island, Fern stopped and stared. The Google photos didn’t do this place justice. It was Instagram-perfect, the beautiful rainbow cottages and pretty shops she’d seen online stretching along the cobbled high street with a stream running at the side.
‘Hello, you look a little lost. Can I help you at all?’
Fern blinked and looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway of a quaint little bookshop, her expression warm.
‘Could you tell me how to get to Anchor Way?’
‘Straight down to the bottom of Lighthouse Lane, then turn left. You can’t miss it.’ The woman smiled.
‘And is there a B&B around here?’ Fern had just realised she’d never even thought about accommodation, and with the train having been over three hours late, she hadn’t much time to find a bed for the night.
The woman pointed in the same direction. ‘Once you’ve turned left, it’s just a short walk. Staying long?’
‘Not too long,’ Fern said vaguely, unsure of what she was walking into.
‘I’m Amelia, the owner of The Story Shop. If you need anything, you’ll find me right in here.’ She pointed over her shoulder as she gave a welcoming smile. ‘I’m always around.’
Fern offered a grateful nod. Amelia’s easy smile made her feel like she’d stepped into another world. A welcoming one. She hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘I’m Fern. What’s Puffin Island like?’
Amelia’s face softened. ‘A wonderful place with just the best kind of community. Everyone looks out for each other.’
‘Do you live here?’ Fern asked, curious to know more about the little island.
Amelia pointed to the upper floor of the bookshop, where a row of windows overlooked the bay. ‘Right up there. Best view on the island, especially on a day like today.’
Fern followed her gaze, imagining waking up to the sight of the sea stretching endlessly into the horizon. Even the idea of it– the salt in the air, the quiet lull of waves, the leisurely walks on the sand with a coffee in hand– was a stark contrast to her life in London.
Amelia’s friendly welcome made Fern feel unexpectedly at ease. In London, the only person who would greet her with such a smile was Ella. ‘It looks a wonderful place to live.’ She turned to leave, but then the words slipped out. ‘By any chance, did you know a woman by the name of Matilda Hartley?’
‘Oh, yes. She passed away recently. Owned No. 17 Curiosity Lane, a wonderful little antique shop, full of the strangest things.’ She paused, then leaned against the doorframe of The Story Shop and grabbed a folded local newspaper from a nearby stack. ‘Here you go. There’s a write-up about her. Lovely tribute, really. No one’s quite sure what’s going to happen to the shop, though.’ She hesitated, lowering her voice conspiratorially. ‘There’s a rumour going around that she had some sort of relative that’s on their way from London. I’m not sure how they’re going to fit in here, as they’re no doubt the sort who drinks overpriced lattes, wears designer coats and will probably see inheriting the shop as a massive inconvenience.’
