Tuesdays were always quiet, Jennie used the time to clear shelves, dust into the far reaches and put everything back again. She would often smile to herself as she worked, wondering what her high flying colleagues from the past would think, sometimes wondering what Dan would think. There weren’t many people on holiday this week. It was an in between time. Late September would bring those looking for some Autumn colour. Things would pick up then.

She enjoyed her job at the caravan park, the little shop that was her domain provided essentials to the villagers as well as holiday makers. But not so much on a Tuesday, which was why she found herself crouched on the floor trying to reach in behind the packets of pasta, when she was confronted by an unfamiliar pair of legs.

‘Hi, Rob Parker, I have a reservation for the flat.’ Jennie leaned back from her task and attempted to stand, but she had been crouching for too long and her foot had gone to sleep, she stumbled, tried to reach out to steady herself, but needn’t have, as a large hand took hold of hers. ‘Oh,’ she felt herself blush as she met the face that accompanied the legs and the hand, a face framed by blond swept back hair that was refusing to stay put. The face broke into a smile, crinkling at the eyes, which she had expected to be blue yet found them indescribable, a sort of honey colour with little flashes of… Jennie realised that she was staring too intently. She checked herself and straightened up, suddenly wishing she had chosen her outfit more carefully that morning. It was Tuesday, shelf day, the blue fleece had seemed wise.

‘A reservation?’ she began, pleased that her voice was acting professionally at least, ‘sorry, I’m usually over in reception when we’re expecting people, let me get the diary.’ She went to get the reception key from the hook in the cupboard that served as a kitchen. ‘It probably won’t be in the diary.’ The voice followed her. ‘Stewart is it?’ Jennie turned and nodded as he mentioned the name of the caravan park owner, the owner who had gone off into town without mentioning any visitors. ‘ I spoke to him late last night. I have a house here you see, up in the hills, but there’s a problem with the power supply and I really need to get some work finished.’ From the corner of her eye she noticed her favourite mug set out ready, a piece of paper tucked inside, a note from Stewart.