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“I was actually looking for Carrie. Is she around?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m covering for her. She’s taken Poppy to her dance class.”

“Oh well, never mind. I just hoped she might be free for a chat. I’ll message her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be sorry to have missed you,” said Mary. “How are you feeling, my love?”

“Not too bad, thanks. Tired and sicky. My iron levels have dipped, but I’ve got a supplement now to help with that.”

“So that’s what Dylan was doing in Boots earlier,” said Mary.

Oh my goodness, was nothing in this town private? Lucy despaired. “Yep,” she voiced with a smile.

“I imagine it’s lovely for you to have Dylan close by to support you.”

“He’s certainly been hanging around the coffee shop a lot.”

“I mean having him living next door,” said Mary with a laugh.

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, slowly.

“Him renting the flat above here, of course—” replied Mary.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, slowly. “He’s renting the flat above this shop?”

“Yes. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” said Lucy. She couldn’t believe it, what on earth was Dylan thinking, moving into a flat next door to where she lived and worked? He had his own home!

“Oh,” said Mary, quietly.

“Yeah,” Lucy replied. “Is he up there now?”

Mary looked like she was debating how she should respond, which gave Lucy all the answer she needed. She marched over to the door, which led to the upstairs flat Carrie had lived in when she first came to Castle Cove, and knocked on it loudly.

“I’ll just be out in the office,” said Mary, quickly disappearing.

Lucy heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and then the door was opened by Dylan. He stared at her and she saw him gulp.

“Hi,” he said.

“I think we need to talk,” Lucy hissed.

“Right. Do you want to come up?”

“Not particularly, but I also don’t much fancy the idea of Mary having to hear what I have to say to you.”

Dylan nodded and she walked past him, marched up the stairs — something she certainly had the energy for in the here and now — and on into the large open-plan kitchen and living space she’d spent many an evening sharing a bottle of wine with Carrie in, setting the world to rights. It looked emptier now and far less homely without all Carrie and Poppy’s stuff around, and more like the holiday let it actually was.

She turned to face Dylan, doing absolutely nothing to curb the anger building up inside her.

He looked suitably contrite and went to open his mouth, presumably to explain but Lucy didn’t give him a chance.

“You’re living here?” she hissed. “Next door to me!”

“I’m renting it. Just for a little while.”

“So you can what? Stalk me?”