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No one answered, and Nova's heart sank. This was the moment they were about to tell her they weren't coming back again, and she could hardly blame them.

"I'm happy to make a suggestion if no one else wants to," Arthur said.

"If you're sure, that would be great." Nova gave him a grateful smile. "You're a fan of biographies, aren't you? I don't read much nonfiction so it would be great to try something new."

"Actually, I was going to suggest some fiction . . ." He paused, and Nova saw his cheeks were even redder than normal. "As you know, my Esi loves a good historical romance. And while they're not my cup of tea, I thought maybe we could read one of them for her?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, not another soppy love story," Phyllis said, rolling her eyes. "In Beryl's day we used to have a proper rota for who chose the books."

"I think that's a lovely idea, Arthur," Nova said, ignoring Phyllis. "Do you think your wife might be able to join us at the next meeting?"

"Oh no, I don't think so. She finds it difficult to leave the farm these days, her eyesight's gone and she's not so steady on her feet. But I always read our book choice to her, and she loves hearing what everyone has to say about them."

"And is there a particular book Esi would like us to read?"

He gave an embarrassed cough. "Well, she loves those Bridgerton books. They're all codswallop to me, but she likes all the corsets and balls and the like. So, I thought maybe we could read 'The Vis-' 'count Who Loved Me', which is her favorite."

"That sounds great, thanks Arthur," Nova said, over Phyllis's exaggerated groan. "Thanks for coming tonight, everyone. Our next meeting is on twentieth November, so I'll see you then."

There was the sound of scraping chairs as they all rose. Arthur and Ash said goodbye while Phyllis muttered under her breath and Craddock waddled behind them out the room. Once they were gone, Nova began tidying. As she straightened up the fallen chair, she found Michael's copy of 'Where the Crawdads Sing' abandoned under it. In his haste to get away, he must have forgotten it. She opened the book and flicked through the pages, but there was only an ancient- looking leather bookmark with faded lettering saying something about lizards. Nova shut the book and put it in her bag to leave in the lost property drawer tomorrow. Not that she imagined Michael would ever come back to get it.

The community center was eerily quiet as Nova switched off the lights, and she hurried to lock the front door and run across the rainlashed car park. It wasn't yet eight, so she still had time to join Craig at the pub quiz, yet as she climbed into her rusty old Fiat, all Nova wanted to do was drive back to the house, put on her pajamas and curl up with her current Kiley Reid novel.

It wasn't that Craig's friends and family wouldn't make her feel welcome at the Anchor. Everyone had been friendly to Nova since she moved down here, especially Lauren and her boyfriend, who had been best friends with Craig since primary school. Yet despite their efforts, Nova still felt like the odd one out when she was with his friends: the city girl who wore colorful vintage clothes, liked oldfashioned music, and couldn't join in any of the injokes or old stories that bandied around. She knew it would get better with time: that at some point she'd stop being seen as "Craig's kooky girlfriend from London" and just be "Nova." But right now, after a tenhour shift at the community center, all she wanted was a few hours alone with a good book.

Thankfully, no one was standing outside the Anchor in tonight's storm and Nova was able to drive past unnoticed. In fact, she didn't spot a soul as she wound her way through the steep, narrow cobbled streets down to the harbor. When she'd first moved to St. Tredock, back in May, the place had been bursting with life: the pavements crowded from morning to night with hordes of holidaymakers visiting the fishing village's pretty beach and oldfashioned, picturepostcard streets. But now it was midOctober and the tourists had all gone home, many of the shops and restaurants had closed up for the winter, and the village felt like a ghost town.

It was only a threemile drive along the coastal road back to Craig's parents' house, but Nova took it slowly as the rain and wind lashed her ancient car. The lights were all off when she pulled into Craig's parents' driveway; the Wednesday night pub quiz was a sacrosanct Pritchard family tradition and they'd all be there until closing. Nova let herself in and walked through the silent rooms, each decorated in muted shades of cream and beige, to the huge modern kitchen that ran along the back of the house, overlooking the sea. She always felt nervous cooking in here, as she was a notoriously messy chef and Pamela Pritchard liked her kitchen pristine, so Nova made herself a simple cheese sandwich, put her favorite Billie Holiday album to play on her phone, and sat down at the glistening marble island to eat.

She was a few mouthfuls in when her phone rang, interrupting the music. She assumed it was Craig, who liked to check in with her when she was alone, but when she lifted up her mobile, she saw it was her mum. Nova pressed answer and her screen was filled with her mum's tanned, grinning face.

"'Buenas noches', Nono!" Maddy had to shout to be heard above the background noise.