Escape to Darling Cove Part Two

By Holly Hepburn

**PART TWO in the brand new series from Holly Hepburn, perfect for fans of Cathy Bramley and Katie Fforde**

Eve has always lived on Ennisfarne, an idealic island just off the coast of Northumberland and only accessible when tides are low. There she runs a bar on Darling Cove, named after her ancestors who settled there many year ago.

Logan is a famous photographer desperate to get away from the bad press after a difficult break-up. Renting a cabin from Eve, he chooses Darling Cove for it’s beautiful views and the hope of anonymity.  

The pair don’t get off to the best start, butting heads over Eve’s adorable but boisterous Chocolate lab. But when Logan's famous identity is revealed, Eve can’t resist the urge to help him.

The brand new novella series from Holly Hepburn, author of Coming Home to Brightwater Bay.

PARTS TWO, THREE and FOUR are available to pre-order... PART ONE is available now! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
• Release date: Jul 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398511897

Holly Hepburn

Holly Hepburn is the author of seven novels including The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures, Coming Home to Brightwater Bay, and A Year at the Star and Sixpence. Follow her on twitter at @HollyH_Author.

Book preview

Chapter One

Eve

Eve Darling wasn’t sure what was worse – the stink coming from Huxley, the slimy brown substance oozing down his chocolate fur or his air of utter satisfaction at a job well done. She wrinkled her nose and fanned her watering eyes. ‘Is that—’

Warren turned his gaze from Eve to contemplate the Labrador, sitting in the centre of the cobbled farmyard like a king surveying his domain. ‘Aye, it’s cow pat,’ he confirmed. ‘More than one, if I’m any judge. The crusty bits dangling from his tail are a few days old, whereas the stuff sliding down his haunches is fresh today.’

Not for the first time, Eve wondered what she’d done to deserve a dog whose idea of heaven was rolling in the most disgusting things he could find. He was so thoroughly coated it was hard to tell where the slime ended and his fur began. And was it her imagination or was he steaming in the chilly morning air? ‘I’m sorry about this, Warren,’ she said, with the same toe-curling embarrassment she usually felt when apologizing for Huxley. ‘Is Mildred okay?’

Her neighbour shrugged. ‘She’s a 500-kilo Highland Cow – I don’t think Huxley here is much of a threat to her. But it was lucky we had her calf in the barn for a check-up with the vet. You don’t need me to tell you mothers are very protective of their young and it might have been a different story if Dora had been in the field.’

The thought of an enraged cow lashing out at Huxley made Eve’s blood run cold. Mildred was normally docile and friendly as she watched the world from beneath her russet red fringe but Eve could easily imagine the cow’s protective instincts being ignited by a boisterous Labrador bouncing around her eight-month-old baby. And what made things all the more excruciating was that this wasn’t the first time Huxley had escaped to the neighbouring farm. Eve had no idea how he’d managed it this time – she was sure all the doors and gates had been closed – but somehow he had evaded all her security efforts and made a bid for freedom. Warren was an understanding and good-natured neighbour but Eve was well aware he was also a farmer, with all the hard-nosed pragmatism that came with the job. Sooner or later, his patience was going to run out.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘And I’m sorry. I’ve enrolled in some training classes, to try and curb his wanderlust. We start next week.’

‘That might work,’ Warren said, nodding. ‘Although some dogs are too set in their ways to learn.’

It was a thought that had crossed Eve’s mind; Huxley had come to her aged eight months, a rescue dog given up by a family who hadn’t understood how much care and exercise a growing Labrador needed. Living beside a private beach had enabled Eve to give him plenty of space to run but, four months on, Huxley continued to resist her efforts to curb his desire to roam further afield. She could only hope professional training would help. ‘He’s bright. I just need to persuade him that home is where the heart is.’

Warren eyed Huxley, who was sniffing his own hindquarters with the air of a diner about to tuck into a gourmet meal. ‘I know it’s bitter but I expect you’ll be want to hose him down before you go.’

‘I don’t think I’ve got much choice,’ she said with a rueful sigh. ‘There’s a good chance I’ll pass out at the wheel if I don’t.’

The process of cleaning Huxley up would have been much quicker if he hadn’t been so hellbent on biting the water squirting from the hose. Its coldness didn’t seem to trouble him, nor the biting easterly wind whistling across the yard, but he was so busy joyously snapping at the water Eve was sluicing over him that she supposed he didn’t have time to get cold. It was only when the water was running clean and his brown fur was slick and sparse against his skin that his enthusiasm for the impromptu bath seemed to wane.

‘Maybe that will teach you not to roll in cow poo,’ Eve told him as she rubbed him dry with the tatty old towel Warren had given her.

Another icy gust tore across the yard, making Eve glad of her thick coat and the woolly hat jammed over her blonde hair. Warren glanced speculatively at the sky, which was clothed in a purple-grey blanket so dense that the feeble March sunlight stood no chance. ‘The wind is picking up. You’d best be on your way.’

Eve shivered and it was only partly due to the wintry blast. The weather forecasters had been warning the whole country of another Beast from the East cold front for days, supposedly more ferocious than the last, but Eve had been hoping Ennisfarne might escape the worst of the snow, at least, if not the wind. That morning’s shipping forecast had put paid to her optimism – gale force winds and Siberian temperatures were imminent, predicted to last the whole weekend, and the islanders were preparing to batten down the hatches. ‘Come on, Hux,’ she commanded, as the dog gave himself another vigorous shake. ‘Time to get you into the warm.’

Having thanked Warren again, Eve secured Huxley in the back of the old Land Rover she shared with Aiden and navigated her way along the narrow roads. She heard the roar of the waves just as the craggy limestone arch at the end of Darling Cove came into view and Eve was struck once again by the bruised, foreboding skies. The tide was already battering the base of the arch, further in than usual for the time of day, which often happened during particularly high winds, and the waves were topped by thunderous white horses galloping wildly towards the beach. To her right, a pale flash caught Eve’s eye – Dune Cottage – and she risked a quick glance towards it as she passed the entrance to the little car park, reassuring herself all was well with the holiday home. Not that she expected any problems – the little whitewashed cottage had withstood everything the weather could throw against it for almost two hundred years and Eve took care to make sure it was well maintained. Barring a freak accident, she felt confident her tenant would remain snug and safe within its walls. The thought brought a sardonic twist to Eve’s mouth: snug was not a word she imagined anyone associated with Logan Silk. Cool, mysterious and edgy were more his style, with more than a hint of moodiness, and Eve would be the first to admit she’d actively disliked him when he had first arrived on Ennisfarne. But once she’d got to know Logan a little and, more importantly, begun to understand the reasons behind his prickly manner, much of her dislike had ebbed away. Her brother, Aiden, had playfully suggested the turnaround had a lot to do with the revelation that their tenant was a world-famous photographer and Eve couldn’t deny the discovery had ignited her curiosity. But it was sympathy after a scurrilous kiss and tell had made the headlines that had really changed her opinion. And now she caught herself watching out for him on the beach and resisting