‘I know this probably feels like a holiday to you,’ he said, catching his breath, ‘a beautiful blip before you go back to London.’
Fern opened her mouth to respond, but he held up a hand.
‘I get it. I do. You’ve got this whole life there. A career, friends… well, maybe not Ella anymore,’ he added with a grimace, ‘but still.’
She nodded slowly.
‘I’m not asking you to give all that up,’ Daniel said. ‘But I’m asking you not to sell the shop. Not yet, because I want to see if I can raise the money. Be a proper adult. Take responsibility. Go to the bank, see what kind of loan I can get. The revenue’s rising. I’ve started tracking it properly. People are coming in more. They love the social media posts.’
Fern’s heart twisted at his enthusiasm.
‘I just feel that place is a part of me.’
‘Maybe a part of us.’ Fern stared up at the sky, trying to catch her breath in a different way now. The clouds drifted lazily overhead, and seagulls called to each other across the cliffs. ‘Do you know what I feel like right now?’
Daniel grinned. ‘We don’t want to get arrested; it is a public beach, after all.’
She swiped him playfully. ‘Not that! I feel like an ice cream!’
* * *
They made their way up to the Cosy Kettle, where Becca greeted them and served two towering cones: mint choc chip for Fern, and vanilla with raspberry ripple for Daniel. They sat on the sea wall, feet swinging like kids, as she pulled out her phone and the sticky note that Dorothy had written Alistair’s number down on. ‘Shall I ring and see if he can see us?’
Daniel nodded. ‘Go for it.’
Fern handed him her ice cream. ‘Here goes.’ She dialled the number and to her surprise, he answered almost immediately.
‘Alistair, hi, it’s Fern Talbot, owner of No. 17 Curiosity Lane on Puffin Island.’ Fern put the call on speaker so Daniel could hear it. Thankfully there was no one else around. ‘I got your number off Dorothy because I’ve discovered something in the shop that I think might be of interest to you. Daniel and I are going to be in London later this week, and I wondered if you might have time to meet?’ That was a little white lie, but Fern didn’t want it to appear they were only coming to London to see him.
There was a pause. ‘Oh? What do you think may be of interest?’
She glanced at Daniel, then replied, ‘We found an old vinyl and believe it might be one of Nathaniel Loring’s earliest recordings. Maybe his first. We thought you would know.’
Alistair was quiet for so long Fern thought the call might’ve dropped.
Then finally, he said, ‘That’s quite a find.’
‘It’s probably nothing,’ Fern said quickly. ‘But we thought, since you’re Loring’s agent, you might be able to help us verify it.’
She left out the part about the record being valued at seventy-five thousand pounds, and the fact that they’d discovered the music box and the manuscript inside it. She figured those were details best kept in her pocket for now. She just needed a foot in the door to try to get a face-to-face conversation with him.
Alistair cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Yes, of course. When were you thinking?’
‘Thursday, late morning?’
‘I have a meeting until noon, but I can make myself free at one-thirty. Bring the record. I’d be very curious to see it.’
‘I thought you might.’
Fern ended the call before he could say anything else. ‘We’re in.’
‘This is going to be interesting.’
‘Isn’t it just.’
‘We do have to think about this carefully. We can’t just accuse someone of stealing a song when it might not actually be the case.’
‘I agree with you, but we can gauge his reaction if we get a chance to bring it up. It’s no coincidence he asked about the music box when he visited the shop. He knew where that manuscript was hidden.’
