The 3 p.m. ferry is about to depart when Ruby reaches Penzance harbour with five minutes to spare. The Scillonian towers over the quay, the ship’s white hull marked by dents and scrapes, proving that its daily journeys have taken their toll. She’s the last passenger to arrive, but the attendant who checks her ticket gives her a warm smile.
‘Welcome on board. You’re cutting it fine, young lady.’
‘Sorry, my train was late.’
‘You’re lucky we’re sailing today; crossings are cancelled from tomorrow until further notice.’
‘How come?’
‘There’s a police situation down there.’
‘That sounds intriguing.’
‘Sit back and enjoy the ride.’
The woman clips Ruby’s ticket, and her heart rate slows to normal. She’s glad to be on the final leg of her journey, even though the last hit promises to be the hardest of all. She can’t make plans without seeing the islands first.
People are milling about on deck when the ship finally leaves harbour, gliding slowly through the water. Passengers are already disappearing into the café, but Ruby stands by the rail to watch the land recede. The sea always helps her state of mind. Her father took her to Southend when she was small, to go paddling, eat ice cream, then amble down the pier. She used to dream of moving to a coastal town, but her future now is unimaginable. All that matters is doing her duty, the weight of it keeping her in the here and now.
She’s still in the same position an hour later. The land has disappeared from view, leaving a blank expanse of ocean, with seabirds keeping pace overhead. The majority of passengers appear to be OAPs. They’re sitting on folding chairs and eating sandwiches from Tupperware boxes, a few old men dozing in the shade. There’s just one person her own age, a young guy in well-cut jeans and a white T-shirt, glancing in her direction. It only takes one smile to bring him strolling in her direction. He’s better-looking than she thought, medium height with dark hair, but it’s his expression that interests her. His face appears innocent, as if he’s never experienced pain in his whole life.
‘We must be the only passengers under seventy,’ he says.
‘That’s harsh. Some of them could be sixty-five.’
His dark eyes scan her face. ‘A stickler for detail, are you?’
Ruby smiles. ‘I notice things, that’s all. What’s your name?’
‘Joe Trescothick, yours?’
‘Chloe Moore.’
‘Nice. Ever visited the islands before, Chloe?’
‘It’s my first time.’
‘So you need a local boy like me to show you the beauty spots.’
‘Pushy, aren’t you?’
‘I’d say friendly. It’s the island way.’
‘What if I refuse?’
‘I’ll be gutted, for the whole journey.’
‘We can’t have that. Which island are you from, Joe?’
‘Bryher, born and raised.’
Ruby brightens her smile. ‘Lucky you, it looks amazing in my guidebook – the land that time forgot. I can’t wait to see it.’
‘You won’t be saying that when the phone signal breaks down and the internet’s screwed. Let me give you the lowdown over coffee.’
She considers saying no, but he comes from Bryher, which she needs to know like the back of her hand. When they head for the onboard café, their reflections in the window make her blink. She still hardly recognises the fragile blonde she’s become, with a dark-haired stranger shepherding her inside.