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my feet every time I moved. I watched him for a second as his great, hulking figure shrunk away into the distance. If this was what Luna Bay locals were like, I was in for a pretty bumpy ride.
    â€˜As if I’ve got time to go looking for a dog!’ I huffed to no one in particular. ‘I’m a business developer, not Ace Ventura!’
    *
    Sunflower Cottage was easily recognisable. Painted in a bright yellow with a healthy crop of its namesake growing in the front garden, it stood proudly above Luna Bay on a hill overlooking the spectacular beach. Even before I reached it, I knew I’d like it there. It seemed to rain down happy vibes on the village with its sunny exterior and looked like a wonderful place to be.
    It was just a shame I was here to change all that.
    I hobbled up the driveway, dragging my suitcase across the block-work paving, and stood outside, appraising the building in front of me. It was practically crumbling to the ground by the looks of things, but there was no denying it had a quirky charm. Plus, it was in a great location, ideal for tourists. Yes, it could be a real money-spinner with just a few changes and repairs. I tried to heave my suitcase closer to me and felt the weight drag along the ground. My mind turned to the collection of letters nestled at the bottom and the secret contained within them. Finding out I’d essentially been living a lie my whole life had left me feeling oddly rudderless. I’d always been sure of my place in the world: I was Emily Reed, daughter of Pamela and Simon Reed, sushi enthusiast and business development manager extraordinaire. Now I wasn’t sure what my place in the world was. Hopefully, I’d find out while I was in Luna Bay. From where I was standing, I could see a building on the corner of the next street: the Moonlight Café, according to its large silver sign. My stomach lurched. That was Derek and Diane’s place. My long-lost dad was just a few feet away, oblivious to the fact I was here…
    Time to go in. Time to stop thinking. I took a deep breath and hauled my suitcase over the rest of the driveway, the wheel snagging on a loose paving block. I got it free without too much trouble. For someone described by my friends as a ‘short-arse’, I was stronger than I looked.
    â€˜Need a hand with those, dear?’
    A voice behind me made me jump and I turned to see a stout little woman standing in front of me. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright and keen. The smile on her face vanished when she saw my dishevelled appearance and she rushed over to me.
    â€˜Dearie me, darling, what happened to you?! Have you been in an accident?!’ She studied me with a worried expression, like I was a stray kitten she’d found at the side of the road.
    â€˜You must be Rose,’ I said, extending a hand. ‘I’m Emily Reed, a business developer from Walter Marshall Hotels.’
    Rose’s bright smile shrunk a little and she pursed her lips. ‘Ah yes, I’ve been expecting you. Let me help you with your bags. I’ll get you a nice cup of tea and a slice of cake then phone a garage about your car.’
    Her voice was laced with sadness and, before I could say anything, she hoisted up my suitcase and began dragging it inside. Obviously I wasn’t the only one who was stronger than I looked. I followed her inside.
    As soon as I stepped over the threshold, the full force of Sunflower House hit me. The building outside might’ve looked like it was ready for demolition, but the inside was a completely different story. The lobby was painted a pale lemon and the beechwood floors looked like they’d been newly sanded. Light spilled in from three round windows and a large wooden staircase stood proudly at the centre. The lounge lay just off the lobby and straight ahead was a quintessential country kitchen, where I could smell freshly baked bread. Little homely touches – photographs,