LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter 1

      August Bank Holiday Monday

      St Mary’s Airport, Isles of Scilly

      Oh no, surely that wasn’t her?

      Jess Godrevy’s heart sank as she spotted the girl standing guard over a wheelie suitcase in the arrivals hall at St Mary’s airport terminal. She was all of five feet tall and looked as if she’d blow away in the first Atlantic gust. Was this really Dr Gabriella Carter? Her head-and-shoulders photo had given no indication of how tiny she was – more like a sixth-former than a twenty-seven-year-old with a PhD. Just wait until Will saw her …

      Jess smiled to herself as Gabriella pulled her case even closer, though no one was likely to run off with it on Scilly and they certainly wouldn’t get away with the crime if they did. Jess had already nodded or exchanged hellos with most of the staff and locals in the terminal, all of whom she knew by sight. None of them was a criminal mastermind, although some people would say Hugo Scorrier came closest. His unruly black Labrador, Basil, was sniffing around people’s luggage while Hugo was deep in conversation with a good-looking, dark-haired man who Jess didn’t recognise. Judging by the stranger’s sharp suit and laptop bag, he and Hugo were probably discussing some big business deal relating to Hugo’s luxury resort on Petroc.

      Jess worked her way through the holidaymakers towards Gabriella, hoping the friendly smile on her face would reassure her new recruit.

      ‘Hi there. It’s Gabriella, isn’t it? I’m Jess Godrevy from the flower farm. Welcome to Scilly.’

      ‘Oh, thank goodness. I’m so happy to see you.’ Gabriella’s voice was beautiful but so quiet Jess had to strain to hear it over the plane engines and boarding announcements. She was very pretty in an English rose sort of way, with creamy cheeks sprinkled with freckles and a mane of strawberry blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She’d have to be super careful with the sunscreen while she was working outside, thought Jess, ever practical but also aware of her own scruffy jeans, Flower Farm sweatshirt and wild hair. There was never any point in styling it: the wind and the sea spray would dismember any blow-dry in minutes.

      ‘Someone’s waiting in the car park to give us a lift down to the quay so we can get the island boat across to St Saviour’s,’ said Jess cheerfully. ‘My brother, Will, is busy at the farm. If he’s remembered that you’re coming, that is, and hasn’t decided to go rowing instead. Brothers, what are they like?’

      A brief smile flickered across Gabriella’s lips but she still looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

      ‘It’s this way,’ said Jess, regretting her ‘joke’ about Will, mostly because he might well have forgotten.

      ‘Thank you so much,’ said Gabriella as if she’d been invited to tea at Buckingham Palace. She was so sweetly polite, Jess was beginning to think she’d hired a mouse to work as a flower picker and packer at the Godrevys’ flower farm. However, during the phone interview a few weeks previously, she’d shown an impressive knowledge of horticulture. The excellent references from the plant nursery she’d worked for during her vacations also proved she must be used to hard work in all weathers.

      Jess led the way out of the terminal and through the passengers on the car park. Outside, half a dozen jovial drivers shepherded the new arrivals towards the minibuses that would take them to their accommodation on St Mary’s or down to the quay to the smaller ‘off islands.’

      ‘How was your flight?’ she asked while they walked towards their lift.

      Gabriella pulled a face. ‘Rather bumpy, I’m afraid.’

      ‘It can be interesting, but at least you got here. It’s not unusual for flights to

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