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“A grant?” Ash said. She breathed out. “You really are taking this seriously, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t we go to the pub?” said Pen. “We can sit and talk there. It’ll save you from washing up the tea cups.”

“No,” Ash said. “I’m going for a walk on the beach.” She hesitated, looking again at the beautiful sun and thinking about how Pen had just taken in a stranger. How maybe she wasn’t interfering. How maybe she was that rare thing, an actually good person.

Ash didn’t know how many truly good people she’d met in her life, but she was quite sure it was no more than she could count on one hand.

Pen’s perfume made Ash’s nose twitch and, she decided, she quite liked it. Maybe she should ask Pen what it was so she could buy some herself.

“I’m going for a walk on the beach,” she said again, as Pen’s face fell. She took a breath. “You could come with me, if you like?”

Pen beamed. “I’d like that.”

Ash nodded. “Give me five minutes to close up then. I’ll meet you outside.” She switched off her computer. “And take that damn cat with you.”

THE SAND WAS wet and firm underfoot but Ash was careful not to walk too fast. Pen was more than a head shorter than her, her legs weren’t as long, so Ash guarded her pace and Pen bobbed along beside her.

“I like the smell of wet sand,” Ash said for no reason other than to fill in the gaps.

“It smells like home to me,” said Pen.

“So you grew up here?”

“Born and bred.”

“Not a bad place to live in,” said Ash.

“Getting used to it, are you?” asked Pen with a grin. “I knew you would. Tetherington grows on people. Maybe you won’t need to sell the shop after all.”

“First of all, I’m still not totally convinced the place belongs to me.”

“Which it does,” Pen said firmly. “After all, a solicitor said it did, so it must be true.”

“How nice to be assured that everyone in authority is looking out for your best interests,” said Ash, walking along with her hands in her pockets. “Ever heard of police brutality? Or government corruption?”

“Of course I have,” said Pen. She paused for a second. “I just… I don’t think constantly assuming the worst about people is the best thing to do. I mean, I could have assumed the worst about you, but I didn’t.”

“Like what?”

“Like… you’re a gold digger who wants to steal the shop and… and… you’re a serial killer or something.”

Ash laughed. “Where did the serial killer come from?”

“Well, you are a bit… cold. Detached. That seems like a serial killer-y thing to be,” Pen said.

“I’m not a serial killer,” said Ash. “But equally, I don’t go around making friends with everyone by default. And there’s nothing wrong with that. In my view, if everyone just minded their own business, life would be a damn sight better.”

Pen snorted.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… Well, you’re not exactly minding your own business when it comes to prying into Mary’s life, are you? You want to know all about her.”

“So that I can determine whether or not the shop is rightfully mine,” Ash said. She breathed in cool salt air. “And she was supposed to be my father’s sister. I, uh, I don’t know much about him.”

“Oh,” Pen said.

There was a few seconds of quiet as the gulls called and the sea murmured on the sand. Then Ash felt something, Pen’s arm sliding into her own. She considered pulling away, but actually, it was quite nice to have some support there. The sand wasn’t as flat as it could be. And the breeze was a little chilly, so Pen’s warmth was equally welcome.