1The storm had been building all afternoon. By the time Maya reached the harbour, the sky had turned the colour of a bruise, and the fishing boats were tugging at their ropes like restless dogs.
2She pulled her coat tighter and scanned the quay for her grandfather's red boat. It wasn't there.
3Her stomach tightened. Grandad always came back before four o'clock; he said the sea kept its promises only until teatime. Maya checked her watch: ten past five.
4Behind her, the lighthouse blinked awake, sweeping its long white arm across the waves.