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‘Hey, hi. Suse. Um, sorry I didn’t call first. Or text. I thought about it. Drafted it and deleted it, couldn’t get the tone right. Thought coming here in person . . .’ he winced in her direction, ‘but maybe not. I . . . I, er . . .’

Susie rolled her eyes. ‘Was there something you wanted to say? I’m quite busy back there butchering a hog.’

He seemed to shrink into himself even more. ‘Blimey, right. Well, it is important. Maybe we could take a walk?’ He looked to Temperance and back at Susie. ‘Alone?’

After folding her arms, Susie said, ‘I don’t think so. Whatever you tell me I’ll only tell my sister anyway, so you could save us all time and say it now.’

Temperance swallowed. A little bit of pity for Mark was creeping into her heart: seeing him all twitchy and nervous, far from his usually suave self.

He ran his hands down his cheeks and shuffled on the spot. ‘OK. Haha. Right. Any chance of a stiff drink first?’

Just as Susie started to reply, disgust in her tone, Temperance leapt in. ‘One can’t hurt! And it’s got to be noon somewhere. Margie won’t mind us having a little tipple from her private sherry bottle.’

With a sigh, Susie went inside again and then brought out the drinks.

Mark took a sip. ‘Mmm. Tastes like Christmas with my Granny.’

‘How wholesome,’ Susie deadpanned. ‘Now, you wanted to tell me something?’

He carefully put down the little fluted glass. ‘I did, I did. Have been wanting to for a while but then . . . kept bottling it.’ His neck flushed red.

He’s so vulnerable, Temperance thought, maybe we went too heavy handed with the Deadly Nightshade . . .

‘Go on.’

‘I’ve been working on this project and I wanted to get your take on it, seeing as you are an East Prawle resident, at the heart of the community. Have you ever heard that the village is in a trust?’

Susie nodded, her poker face immaculate.

‘Well, my family’s business – one of them, I should say – is in property development. The acquisition team have had East Prawle on their radar for years.’

Temperance could sense her sister’s body stiffen, saw her tongue run around her teeth like a lioness about to take down her pray. If Mark admitted out loud what they knew he’d been up to, it wouldn’t be happy hour for him, that was for sure.

‘I thought I’d found a way to ringfence the village, protect it. Based on the cultural significance of this place and its very long history.’ He looked up at the unevenly sloping roof of the building, its higgledy-piggledy stone walls, built by hand hundreds of years before, and smiled, the warmth of the old Mark breaking through just for a second. ‘Apply for a historical preservation order for The Witch’s Nose, and the old smuggler’s path down to the beach. That way, extra housing can’t be built on the area for the foreseeable. I’d found enough anecdotal evidence and documents through the local archives to build a good case but . . .’ He shrugged and picked at his thumb.

‘You’re saving the village?’ Susie all but breathed. ‘You don’t want to develop it?’

A flicker of strength passed over Mark’s brow. ‘Never! I love this place. I fell for it the first time I visited, back when I was a kid and we’d come to Salcombe for the summer. It wasn’t all about who had the biggest boat or the flashiest aga, or any of that nonsense. The minute it came up on the Beston agenda, I started working behind the scenes on how I could help preserve it. But,’ he swallowed hard, ‘now that I’m at the point of filing the paperwork,’ he wrung his hands together, ‘I’m not sure. And so that’s why I wanted to talk to you. You love this village, but you also know how important family is. If I do this, if I block the path for my family’s business . . . well, firstly I’m fired for certain, but other than that I risk my family turning their backs on me forever. It’s not like I’d be bankrupting them, but it’s not exactly model son behaviour.’ He scrunched up his nose. ‘And the ripples it would make in their social circles, their friends who are investors. If I do it, there’s really no going back.’

Over the course of ten minutes Susie’s face had gone from a pillar of marble to an eiderdown cushion. Her eyes were brimming with tears as her lips struggled not to wobble. She rushed at Mark for a hug. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said into his neck.

‘That’s OK, um, it’s really all my own fault. I knew it was on the table and a month ago I was prepared to take that risk – it felt totally worth it. It felt right. But recently, I don’t know. I just can’t seem to make a decision. It’s like I don’t trust myself. Which is,’ he gave a flat little laugh, ‘not really me.’

The sisters locked eyes.

Oh boy.

‘Would it help,’ Temperance ventured, ‘if the paperwork got filed in our names, instead of yours? I’m not trying to steal your homework, but maybe then your job is safe, your family won’t rumble you?’

Mark tipped his head to one side. ‘It’s an idea. But it doesn’t feel honest. I’d always planned on leaving the firm anyway. A few years out of uni I knew it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. There had to be more to life; something better, fairer. I was thinking maybe I could offer an affordable consultancy service to other places that wanted to secure heritage orders, based on what I know about how the developers work and all the red tape. But now, I’m not so sure.’ He shrugged.

‘You have to do it,’ Susie said. ‘And we’ll help you. If your family do decide to turn their backs then . . . they’re not much of a family, are they?’

He smiled weakly, the movement not reaching his eyes. ‘I suppose.’

The two of them were staring at each other so intently that Temperance felt guilty about breaking the moment. ‘Did you ah . . . bring anything with you today, Mark?’

He looked back towards the front door. ‘I left my jacket and bag outside, they got a bit wet on the boat ride over.’