Every Polperran book, shelf by shelf — the ones on the quay already, and the ones still out at sea. Threads seeded in the board books pay off, years of reading later, in the novels.
Ten board books by Pip Trelawny. One or two lines a page, sounds and naming, warm and safe — the harbour cat pads through the village and everything ends at home.

Pilchard wakes on his coil of rope and says good morning to the whole harbour — the boats, Rosen, Martha (a sardine!), Bosun, a surprisingly well-behaved Gwylan — ending nose-to-nose with Baby Perran in his pram.

The loop home at dusk: goodnight boats, goodnight bakery, goodnight lighthouse blinking on — and, on the last hushed page, the sea hums one soft note, like a bell very far away.
One colour a spread, found around the village: orange Pilchard, blue boats, yellow oilskins, red bakery door — all the way to the gold evening sea.
Peekaboo hide-and-seek. Is he in the nets? In the bread basket? Under Bosun's ear? In the lobster pot? No… until — there he is!
The sounds of the harbour, one a page — SCREE says Gwylan, CHUG goes the Morwenna — and under everything, soft and deep, one sound nobody explains.

Pilchard finds something small and shiny in the seaweed and bats it all along the quay — plink, plink, plink — until it rolls to Baby Perran, who laughs. (It was very old, and very gold.)
The best-friends book. Perran naps, Pilchard naps; Perran eats, Pilchard hopes; Perran cries, Pilchard purrs until he stops.
Counting one to five as the boats come home — and every single one gets a Pilchard inspection. All home. All counted. Well done, Pilchard.
Drip, drop, RAIN! A dash under the bench, under the nets, through a puddle (SPLASH!) — into the bakery, where it is warm, and Martha has a towel.
Meet each friend in turn — Bosun, Gwylan, Cronk and Bella the red-beaked choughs — and Siren the seal, who waves. Wave back!
Ten toddler tales by Eseld Carne. One tiny drama per book — lost then found, wet then dry — with gentle humour, and everything resolved warmly by teatime.

One daisy-painted gumboot goes missing at the quay and travels the whole village — a gull tries it as a nest, Bosun carries it proudly, Pilchard has a nap in it — before coming home by boat.
Austol copies his dad plank for plank with his wooden tools. Sawdust everywhere. Launch day in the big shared puddle — the whole boatyard attends.

After a storm, Tegen finds a small golden button in the seaweed. She knows exactly what to do: shiny things go to the piskies. What happens on the piskie stone is between Cronk and the reader.
Kensa bakes the biggest pasty Polperran has ever seen. Gwylan wants it. A campaign of swoops, disguises and cunning — but Gwylan had a plan…
Bosun's busy day as self-appointed lifeguard, which nobody notices except the reader. Until Rosen does — and out comes the biggest sausage.
Tegen's first crossing to Enys Vean with Old Tom Bray and one oar ("no hurry"). Puffins! The ruined chapel! And Old Tom talks to the sea — Tegen is sure the sea answers.
A blustery day, a rule ("watch from the wall"), and one big wave that whooshes spray right over. Scared-then-laughing, dry socks, and a saffron bun at Martha's. The sea is wonderful AND strong.
The village is decorating for the new gig's naming day. The bunting is too long, too tangly, and one flag gets painted — accidentally — as Pilchard. The gig is named Chough as the good-luck birds fly over.
"Mama!" coaxes Rosen. "Dada!" tries Jago. "Bun!" offers Martha. Perran watches the harbour, points, and says something else entirely. Pilchard is smug — he knew.
Merryn takes Tegen and Flora to meet Siren. "Sit quiet, wave slow." The whiskery nose, the huge dark eyes — and then, a wave back. "Some seals," says Merryn, "are more than seals."
Ten musical picture books by Morwen Tresidder. Read-aloud verse with Cornish words sprinkled in — and in every book, one whisper of magic that is never, ever confirmed.
Dusk catches Kit on the moor path, and a soft light bobs ahead of him — always just far enough. It leads him past the bog, past the old shaft, to the top of the lane. When Davy comes looking, the light is gone.
First fish of the catch goes on the quay edge, for the Bucca — Martha's rule. Jago lets Kit place it. That night a storm turns every boat home safe. And in the morning, on the same spot, something waits.

Skipping season, and every child is chanting Jenny's rhyme. Tegen demands the STORY — so Martha closes the bakery early and tells it proper: Black Jenny, the Gwennol, the storm, and the treasure never found.
A white pup stranded at Wreckers Cove after a blow. Merryn knows the drill: don't touch, keep the dogs back, call her mum. A day of watching, a night of worrying — and an escort home nobody expected.
Buns keep vanishing from Chough's Bakery. Kit investigates: not Gwylan (alibi: pasty), not Pilchard (asleep), not Jory (crumbs on his jumper — but from yesterday). The real culprit is smaller than anyone guessed.

An ordinary sardine-fishing evening with Davy — lines out, sun down, quiet. Then, once, from everywhere and nowhere: a single deep note, like a bell underwater. "Did you hear that?" Davy hums, and does not answer.
On midsummer eve, Old Tom takes the children the long way home — past Church Rock, just as the sun sits exactly in the rock's window. A blaze of gold through stone, and Martha goes very quiet.
Kit joins Kensa's beach lifesaving class and is slowest all summer — flags, whistles, run-swim-run. Then the relay goes wrong, and slow, watchful Kit is the one who remembers the drill.
Cronk keeps stealing shiny things — and when he raids Miss Chenoweth's button jar, the children track him to his nest ledge on Pendrym Point. Everything is returned. Except his favourites.
The big one comes in daylight: storm-cones up, boats double-moored, Kit and Tegen "helping" (mostly carrying biscuits). The lifeboat launches into it — and everyone ends packed in the bakery, candles lit, wind howling, Martha telling stories.
Ten chapter books by Jack Trevithick. Punchy chapters, cliff-hanger endings, lists and "evidence" — Jory Trevane's biscuit tin slowly fills as the legends start leaving traces.

Three mysteries, one tin. Jory's method — notice, note, test — solves the case of the moved lobster pots, the midnight light, and the thing that wasn't a ghost. Probably wasn't a ghost.
After the equinox gale, Jory finds real gold in the seaweed — and learns from Captain Dunning, at the Friday boxing club, exactly what the law says about treasure. The tin has its first serious exhibit.
A scrap of waxed sailcloth with half of Church Rock drawn on it. Half a map is worse than none — until Jory glimpses where the other half might be.
Jory has been logging the strange nights — and his log matches the storms. Nan won't discuss it. Which, as any detective knows, is data too.
Something bangs in the gig shed at night. The investigation finds an owl. Mostly an owl. One bang remains unexplained, and Jory has underlined it twice.
Exchange week with the enemy school over the hill. Enemy classrooms, enemy chips, enemy regatta crew — and one entirely unexpected ally.
Kit finds steps cut into the rock at Wreckers Cove — leading down to a sealed door below the tideline. Doors below the tideline shouldn't exist. This one does.
Zach recovers a crashed survey drone on Carn Ruan. The photos on its card show the harbour, the quays — and Tide Row, marked in red. Some clues are bigger than a biscuit tin.
Fog, a drifting boat, and a grey seal who seems to know exactly where she's leading. Merryn follows. Of course she follows.
The Nippers crew the old gig for the Three Coves Regatta, coached by Sam Laity. Last place has never been so glorious — and next year, they'll have the Chough.
Ten novels by Rosa Pendarves. Twisty but fair, real peril, emotional honesty — Demelza Kellow and friends against the village's oldest questions.

A storm nobody forecast — and every boat comes home safe, warned hours before the sky turned. The village calls it luck. Demelza Kellow wants the truth: who heard the Bell, and why won't they say?
Every Polperran child can skip to Jenny's rhyme. Demelza is the first to read it as a map — line by line, riddle by riddle, all the way down to "look under the hope."
At the lowest spring tide, a ledge appears at Church Rock's foot. The expedition has one tide's grace to reach it, search it, and get out. The tide has other ideas.
A TV treasure hunter arrives with sonar, a camera crew and a very white smile. If the Gwennol's secrets belong to anyone, they belong to Polperran — and the children must get there first, fairly.
Pendrym Point falls silent in the foggiest week of the year. Sabotage, or neglect? Either answer is trouble — and the quiet boy who is a genius with engines makes his first appearance.
Demelza's recording of the harbour plays back differently to different people. When she maps who hears what, the map means something — and some families are on it.
In a cave at Wreckers Cove: a folded grey something that is soft, and heavy, and wrong to touch. Siren vanishes from the harbour until it's returned. Merryn understands first.
A leak shows what the marina plans really mean: Tide Row, demolished. Somebody has to tell the council. The only people willing are eleven, twelve and thirteen years old.
The equinox gale, the treasure finally within reach — and a life that needs saving instead. The Mysteries' hardest choice, made in the worst weather.
A dig at the ruined chapel on Enys Vean uncovers a small bell — the drowned bell's little sister, the stories say. It rings by itself. Only sometimes. Only when something, far out in the Deeps, calls first.
Ten YA novels by E. M. Curnow — a core trilogy and the standalones around it. Lyrical but pacy, real stakes, slow-burn hearts, and every spine of the world converging.

Lowen Trevane wants to crew a tall ship and leave. Then, on the night of the first autumn gale, she hears a single vast note from under the sea that nobody else seems to hear — and learns her family has been not-saying something for generations. Meanwhile, a man with charm, money and a survey drone has plans for the harbour.
The marina survey dredges up timbers from the Gwennol — and suddenly it's salvage law, press attention, and a race: whoever proves claim to the wreck controls the seabed. Isolde finds something in her father's papers that changes everything.
Jenny's last night, dreamed true. The storm of the decade, the choice at Church Rock, and the question the whole world has been asking since the board books: what does the Bell want?
Isolde's year, from her side: boarding school, a friend who sneers at the village until Isolde surprises herself defending it, her mother's coast, her father's grief. The other half of the story.
One summer, one crew. The regatta novel: Lowen learns to lead, Doc engineers the refit, and Isolde Brannigan rows FOR Polperran — against her father's sponsored boat.
They're decommissioning Pendrym Point. Doc and the Captain against the inevitable — and the truth about what really happened at the light in '78, with Captain Dunning called to testify.
Dual timeline, 1721 and now: a fisherman's daughter who took her own ship, and a girl three centuries later reading her log — facing, line by line, the same choice.
Merryn at fifteen. Enys Vean, a night, the folded grey thing from the cave — and the choice between seeing what Siren truly is or letting her stay a seal. Tender, strange, never fully explained.
The quiet book. Boats laid up, money short, the parish council's darkest meeting — and love deepening in the cold. The village at its lowest ebb, and at its truest.
The storm to end all. The Bucca's due, Tide Row's fate, every promise from every shelf paying off at once — and Polperran earning its future. The sea keeps its secrets. Mostly.