"Foul night to sleep out, little lass."

    Water poured past Sally's ears, spray lashing under her shirt collar to strike the back of her neck. Raindrops split into hundreds of smaller droplets to prick her face, and her hand donned a frozen shawl as it lay limp in a puddle by her side. Yet besides the voice, no other sound broke through the leaden haze that swirled around her. Sally was not even sure if she was awake or still lost in the boundless fields beyond consciousness.

    "Come now. Here's no place for this." Something loomed over Sally's body, but too much mist rolled around her vision for her to make out more than a shifting silhouette. "Land's no place to lay a Porthdruro soul to rest."

    "To rest?" Sally was not dying. Her limbs sank in the rivers around her like they had an endless series of weights strapped around them, and her thoughts had to fight through tangled aches just to be heard, but that only highlighted how far from dying she was. As if to prove it, Sally blinked as much as she could, the sounds of the storm swelling as she beat back the blur masking her eyes.

    The shadow over her face stirred. "That's it. Easy now."

    "Who..." Though she knew what words to say, the returning chorus of storm cries stole Sally's voice. Shoring up her resolve, she gritted her teeth and pulled herself through the rain to a sitting position, and she hung her head low to fight off the pangs brought by the exertion. When the pain ebbed away, she looked back at the shape that spoke to her. "Mr Norton?"

    "That I am, lass." Wrapped in a heavy body-length raincoat, thick gloves, and a large woollen hat, Old Norton propped Sally up by her shoulder to stop her falling backwards. His movements passed through the air with relaxed ease, even though Sally struggled to keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. He sucked his teeth and stroked at his long, rugged beard. "Nasty cut you've picked up there, though. What are you playing at, freezing stone-cold out here on your own?"

    Sally touched the side of her head and winced at the sting of the rain against her skin, then again at the red stains that painted her fingertips when she pulled back. "I...I had to ask Martin Rowe to get boats out to Dad and Ronan..." she said, too busy worrying if the taste of blood on her tongue was real to worry about whether he heard her.

    Furrowing his brow as he listened, Old Norton withdrew a ragged handkerchief from a hidden pocket on his coat. "And that he has, don't you be worrying about that. I was talking to the lifeboats just a few minutes ago, before I came out checking on folk in the village." He dabbed at the wound on her head, acknowledging her hisses of discomfort with gentle nods. "That's when I came up on you, lass. No need to be sprawled out in a storm to call for boats, I told myself, so I thought I'd best stop and see if you were still with us."

    "I reckon I am," Sally groaned, bracing herself for another round of wiping. "I didn't run out again to get help, though. I was going to...oh, Flick!"

    Old Norton frowned, releasing a few muttered words under his breath. "I know it hurts, lass, but that's no way to talk to an old man, now."

    It took a second for his meaning to sink into Sally's mind, and when it landed she clasped her hands together. "Sorry, I didn't mean that," she said, the heat of embarrassment dulling the throbbing in her head. "I was going after my friend Flick, she ran off. But I lost sight of her, and now I've no clue where she's got to."

    As he slipped the bloodied handkerchief back into his pocket, Old Norton tugged at his beard. "Maybe I'm just a mad old fool who's been slumming around ships for too long, but I'm seeing a clue here, there, and everywhere." He raised his eyebrows at Sally's confusion and, with a small laugh, waved his arms around him. "There's a storm on, lass."

    Sally blinked. "I noticed. What's that got to do with it?"

    "Well, when sailors like your Jim need somewhere safe to shore up, what are they looking out for?"

    The wind raged with all the fury it held before, yet as each of Old Norton's words landed on the flowing floor, the noise seemed to retreat away from Sally's earshot. Scanning around her, her eyes lit up as the pieces of the clue fell into place. Over Old Norton's shoulder, standing tall and alone against the ravenous storm, the lighthouse's glow cut through the rain and mist to call her towards it.

    Fatigue drained from Sally's body at the sight of the spark, and she bounced onto her feet. "Is Flick at the lighthouse? Did you see her?" she asked, helping Old Norton raise himself from the ground.

    "I'll tell you like I told the bloke I met outside my gate, I'm not supposed to let any folk into that there lighthouse for any reason." Old Norton tapped Sally's arm to release him, straightening his coat and hat. Even through the whipping rainfall, the mischievous twinkle in his eye shone. "Though the storm was blowing something fierce when I was locking up, it was, and it's hard enough to stay on your feet at my age as it is! Supposing someone happened to sneak themselves in while I was stumbling about, well, it's their own fault if they get locked in then, wouldn't you say?"

    "You helped Flick get away from Damien, didn't you?" Sally said, her face growing into a gleeful grin. She snatched up Old Norton's hand and squeezed it. "You're the best! If you let her stay overnight, Damien will give up, go home, and she won't have to leave!"

    Old Norton's expression did not reflect Sally's joy. "In my time, I've come to know that storms don't stop coming, lass. There's no point trying to run from them, they'll always get you." He looked to the sky as the wind intensified, waiting for the gales to ease off before he continued. "I've seen storms rip this place apart, yet I've also seen them bring this place together like nought else. And now and then, they bring the right folk together at the right time. As for what happens then, well, that depends on the folk there, doesn't it?"

    In the space between them, Old Norton's gloved hand opened to reveal a small brass key. Sally wiped her face, yet when her hands left her eyes the lighthouse emblem remained on its rear end. She reached out to touch it, then flinched. "What if I can't do it?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the key until she prised them away to look Old Norton in the eye. "What if I can't make Damien leave Flick alone?"

    "Then maybe that's not what you ought to be dwelling on, lass," the lighthouse keeper said, planting the key in Sally's fingers. "Sometimes, what needs doing isn't what you're wanting to do. But it still needs doing."

    "It does," Sally sighed as she looked at the gate key, flicking away the water droplets on its surface. "Even if it's the hardest thing, it has to happen."

    Old Norton laughed to himself. "Actually, once you get going, I think an honest lass like you will find being honest to be a sight easier than hiding what you're thinking," he said, patting Sally's hand. His eyes fixed on her face again, their mischievous spark transforming to something more subtle, more knowing. "And what you're feeling, for that matter."

    Pulling her hand back, Sally fiddled with her collar. "What's that mean, now?"

    "You know full well what I mean, lass." Old Norton hid his hands in his pockets and stepped back into the street. "Leave nought unsaid that wants saying. Storms always roll back around, but second chances vanish with the wind."

    The key slipped inside Sally's pocket, its cold metal imprinting its shape on her thigh. She looked towards the beams of light in the distance, their source rendered so much further away by the howling storm. "Right."

    As Sally nodded her thanks, Old Norton held out a hand. "Oh, and lass?"

    "Yes?"

    "Do remember to lock up when you're leaving, aye?"

    Sally held back a snigger, yet she could not stop a smirk blooming on her lips. "Of course I will." She turned to walk away only to catch herself again. "And thank you, Mr Norton, for everything. You've been such a big help for me and my family tonight."

    Old Norton pulled at his beard and shook his head. "Not that I'll hear your Jim's thanks for nought when they fish him out, I bet! To think he said I'm losing my marbles, and then he went out to sea in a storm, the madman..."

    A laugh forced itself from Sally's lungs as she pushed her way through the rain and set off for the lighthouse.