I'm stood gawking at Harry, my jaw still in the sand from where I'd dropped it the moment he'd announced that out of all the bags that could have and had washed up here - this one was his.

"I recognised the luggage strap immediately!" He's still grinning; dimples popping and eyes crinkling at the corners. "It was my Mum's idea. She used to do it to all our holiday luggage - that way you'd be able to spot it quickly in the airport and be able to describe it easily if it went missing. The woman is a genius."

Pride and excitement practically ooze into the sand around his feet as he grips the strap firmly in both hands and hauls it further inland, careful not to dislodge my writing.

"Have you lost your voice?" He says suddenly, looking over his shoulder at me with raised eyebrows. I shut my mouth so quickly that my teeth clash together.

"Sorry." I shake my head. "But this is quite frankly... amazing."

He beams at me once more before turning his attention back to the bag and removing the rainbow strap. "I can't, for the life of me, remember what I packed in here."

I watch in silence as he drags the zip along the bag. It feels like I'm intruding on an intimate moment; a bag full of Harry's belongings. Things I've never seen. Things that, perhaps, he doesn't want me to see. A fountain of water spills over the leather and splashes onto Harry's bare knees, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's already rummaging through it as though he's searching for his favourite teddy at the bottom of the toy box.

There's a terrible squelching sound each time he moves the contents and I cringe. All his no doubt perfectly packed belongings, now drowning in salt water. I'm almost glad that my bag hasn't found its way inland. I'm not sure that, on top of everything else, I would be able to handle seeing my own things in such a state, not when they'd be my only real reminder of home. Come to think of it, I can barely remember what I packed.

There was the navy blue swimming costume; adorned with silver polka dots and a 1950s style halterneck. What I'd give for that now, instead of the one currently digging into my bikini line like a cheese-wire. Addie had insisted that packing a 'sexy swimsuit' was an absolutely must.

"You never know who you're going to be sharing the pool with." She'd said, as if meeting your true love was a common occurrence in swimming pools.

I'd been too excited about the summer of my dreams to care about what my swimsuit looked like or who would be swimming around me. As far as I'd been concerned, this Summer was only about Jules and I. It was a Summer I'd waited so long for that everything else was merely a minor detail.

"Oh, that's a shame." Harry's voice breaks through my memories and I bring my eyes back to where he kneels, just in time to see him placing a leather bound notebook in the sand beside him. It's quite obviously water-damaged; the edges of the pages yellow-tinted and distorted and the cover somewhat bent. "Some of my best songs are written in there."

I'm not sure if Harry's speaking to himself or directly to me but I remain quiet anyway, biting down onto my lower lip with anticipation. If it had been Addie's luggage or Jules' or even my parents', I would have been leaning over their shoulders, impatiently hauling out the contents in the hopes of finding something useful. But I don't know Harry well enough to invade in on his privacy like that. Nor do I really want to go and shatter what is probably an incredibly emotional moment for him. If there's one thing we've learnt here, it's that our emotions are somewhat heightened and I know for a fact that seeing his belongings, dripping with a reminder of our tragedy, will be having some sort of effect on Harry.

Because it's certainly having an effect on me.

He pushes himself up higher on his knees and stretches his arms out until he's suddenly elbow deep in the bag. I imagine the damp fabrics sticking to his skin and grimace. Moments later, he's hoisting out a compressed pile of clothes and dumping them in the sand beside him. They sag over to one side, revealing a mixture of plain, dark t-shirts and as well as more brightly-coloured delicate patterns. Shirts perhaps? Wasn't Addie always saying that he's renowned for his eccentric fashion choices? There's an incredibly small pair of mint swimming trunks on the top of the pile and I can't help feeling somewhat disappointed that I may no longer get to see the canary shorts I've become accustomed too.

His arms return to the bag and my ears register a crackling sound. What is that? Foil? Plastic? Harry's head tilts backwards and a smile tears across his face.

"In support of my earlier statement regarding my mother being a genius," he says quickly. "The Landing Snack was also one of her ideas." He cranes his head round to look at me; eyes wide and eyebrows raised expectantly as if waiting for me to request her autograph.

The Landing Snack?

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that is." I grimace and he starts to laugh. Blush creeps up my neck and fills my cheeks as I suddenly become awfully self-conscious of the fact that I'm on the outside of an evidently inside joke. Have I missed something? But before I have a chance to ask, he's reaching into the duffel bag and there's the crackling sound again. "What have you got in there, Harry?"

I can't help thinking his delay is a deliberate tease but before I have a chance to either call him out or pounce on him, a shot of silver appears in my eye line. It's square shaped, although slightly squished. Water droplets rain off of the edges as Harry holds it up in front of him and I have to squint to read the water-damaged label.

"Crisps?" I say almost breathlessly. Harry wiggles his eyebrows. "Harry, are those crisps?"

I race towards him before his gives confirmation and snatch the packet from from his grasp. It's damp and slippery in my hand but unmistakably a treasure from Harry's duffel bag. I raise my eyes to his face and want to throw my arms around his neck.

"Apparently I was a permanently hungry child." He tells me lazily and folds his arms across his chest. "When we went abroad, the first question I asked in arrivals was - when are we going to eat?" My lips twitch with amusement. "Mum started packing snacks in our luggage purely to shut me up. I guess it sort of became a packing tradition."

Thank goodness for Harry's greed.

"I hope you like Salt and Vinegar." He adds quickly. "Do you want to do the honours?"

My gaze drops to the crisp packet laying in my palm and I'm surprised to find myself feeling incredibly overwhelmed. I didn't think I'd see food like this again for a long time...if ever. Today has been so full of happy surprises that I think I must have almost forgotten what this felt like. This feeling of relief. A lump suddenly wedges itself in my throat.

"Sarah? Are you crying over a packet of crisps?" Harry's tone is not mocking. It's gentle and concerned and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he's really trying to ask me if I'm alright. But I can't speak; too afraid that my voice will betray me. One of his hands closes around my open palm, rustling the foil. "I know, Sarah."

It's all he says but I know full well that he understands.

This is a small thing but, my goodness, it's a good thing. It's a great thing.

And it came from home.

Home.

They may not have come to our rescue yet but home found us today.

Harry's so cute. Let me know what you think!