Claire's POV

A gentle sound emerged from the shelves, and a person walked into view. Mark arrived in an un-pressed suit, his tie blown in the wind. His footsteps crunched a subtle crunch as he moved, a hint of stale coffee and sweat wafting from him.

“Claire? What the devil are you doing down here?” he said, more gruff than cautious, peering at the dark shelves.

Letter crumpling in my hand, I replied deliberately, “I’m on the Evelyn to Southbank link.” I held the letter up, the ...