A PERFECT CORNISH CHRISTMAS
Phillipa Ashley

Copyright

Published by AVON

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Copyright © Phillipa Ashley 2019

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Cover illustrations © Hannah George

Phillipa Ashley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008316150

Ebook Edition © October 2019 ISBN: 9780008316167

Version: 2019-10-14

Dedication

For John, Charlotte and James

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Phillipa Ashley

About the Publisher

Chapter One
Christmas Day 2018

Brushing sleet from her eyes, Scarlett Latham hesitated over the sign on the door of the Smuggler’s Tavern.

Feeling lonely and lost? On your own on Christmas Day?

Join us for a free festive dinner.

No need to book! Just walk in!

Everyone welcome.

Scarlett wrapped her arms around her body, trying to hug some life into her frozen limbs, but her thin party dress offered no protection from the biting wind.

The streets of Porthmellow were deserted as all the normal people of the Cornish harbour town prepared to enjoy Christmas lunch with their friends and families. In contrast, the windowpanes of the pub glowed with warmth and the sound of laughter and music drifted out onto the quayside. Scarlett looked at the sign again, teetering on the brink: step into the light, or stay out here in the sleet? The board’s words were becoming fuzzy as her tears mingled with the wet snow, but she could still make them out.

Feeling lonely and lost?

A sob caught in her throat. She hadn’t felt lonely or lost until two hours before. Now she’d never felt more alone in her life … She caught sight of her reflection in the dark glass of the outer door. It was even worse than she had thought: she was soaked to the skin in her Christmas Day finest, her mascara running down her face in rivers. Did she dare cross the threshold? What would people think?

She read the last line again.

Everyone welcome.

Some instinct deep inside propelled her through the tavern’s entrance. It seemed bizarre to join someone else’s Christmas festivities when her own had gone so spectacularly wrong. Maybe she wanted to prove that Christmas could and should be a happy time when people set aside their differences and enjoyed each other’s company for a few hours. Or maybe she was simply afraid she’d otherwise freeze to death and be found huddled against a pile of lobster pots, covered in snowflakes, like the Little Match Girl.

The oak door creaked open onto a scene of warmth and light that was a world away from the frozen gloom of the deserted harbour. People in paper hats were letting off party poppers and blowing tooters in each other’s faces. Crimson and green cloths covered the tables, which were laid for a Christmas feast, while tinsel shimmered in the glow from the fire. The smooth voice of Michael Bublé was crooning from the speakers, ‘Tis the season to be jolly …’

A gust of wind snatched the door from her hand and banged it shut behind her. In an instant, the cold was cut out and a dozen faces turned in her direction.

It was too late to turn back now, she’d stepped over the threshold. They’d be bound to ask questions, seeing how distressed she was, but was she ready to answer them?

An elderly man in a fisherman’s cap decorated with tinsel hurried over to her. He was vaguely familiar … though her numb brain couldn’t put a name to the weather-beaten features.

‘Hello, my maid. Welcome to the Smuggler’s Tavern. Have you come for the Lunch for the Lonely? You’re very welcome, even if you’ve a strange choice of shoes for the weather.’

With a cackle of laughter, he pointed to her feet. Scarlett looked down too. Her new rabbit slippers, a gift from her sister, Ellie, were now a sodden mush of grey fluff, as if the unfortunate bunnies had met a sad end on a snowy road. Her Christmas tights had a spud-sized hole at the knee and the hem on her sequinned skirt was drooping.

‘You must be freezing.’ The old man’s tone softened. ‘Here, have my cardi.’

‘I’m …’ Scarlett was going to refuse, but realised that her teeth were chattering. ‘It l-looks new … Don’t you n-need it?’

Already taking it off, he pulled a face. ‘No. Can’t stand the bleddy thing. Unwanted present from my cousin. Does it every year. Same cardi, same colour, always the wrong size.’

He draped the cardigan, a sludge-coloured cable-knit with leather buttons, around Scarlett’s shoulders. The warmth was instant and for a second, she felt comforted. Then she realised that the tooters had stopped tooting and she’d replaced Michael Bublé as the festive entertainment.

A man about her own age approached, a wary expression on his face. He was very tall, very blond and wearing a green sparkly jumper and an elf hat with pointy ears. He reminded Scarlett of the Big Friendly Giant. He was joined by a young woman wearing a Santa apron and an elderly lady in a glittery top and reindeer ears, holding a walking stick bedecked with tinsel. They were all smiling at Scarlett, with looks of pity on their faces.

The older man tucked the cardi tight around Scarlett’s shoulders and pulled back a chair from one of the tables that was laid for Christmas dinner.

‘Have a seat, love,’ he said. ‘I’m Troy, by the way.’

‘Yes, and have some hot punch,’ the younger woman added. Scarlett noticed that her apron had ‘Sam’ printed on it. ‘It’s non-alcoholic,’ she told her gently.

That was it. Sam must think she was pissed.

‘I – I h-have only had a couple of glasses of f-fizz,’ Scarlett said. ‘And some eggnog, but it tasted like sick so I chucked it in the c-camellias.’

Sam smiled indulgently. ‘Would you like us to find you some dry shoes?’ she asked.

The elf man produced a fleece and draped it over her knees as if she were in a nursing home. ‘Another unwanted present,’ he said, flashing her an apologetic smile. He held out his hand. ‘I’m Jude.’

‘I’m …’ Scarlett’s lips were numb. She tried to lift her hand, but couldn’t.

Jude subsided like a sunken cake. ‘Possibly bad timing. Maybe we can properly introduce ourselves when you’ve warmed up a bit?’

Scarlett nodded. Despite Troy’s cardigan, she was still shivering and finding it hard to understand what people were saying to her. Her brain felt like the slush clinging to her slippers. She opened her mouth but it wouldn’t connect to her thoughts.

‘I’m Sam,’ the kind-eyed, younger woman said, then pointed to her apron and rolled her eyes. ‘But you must have guessed that.’ She crouched down in front of Scarlett. ‘You’re wet through … What’s happened to you?’

‘I – I c-can’t really s-say right now,’ Scarlett stuttered, at a loss how to explain the havoc that had been unleashed on her family that Christmas morning.

‘OK … Maybe you’ll feel better when you’ve had something to eat,’ Jude said gently. He pulled off his elf hat, as if out of respect, and revealed blond hair tied in a ponytail.

‘Yes, why don’t you stay for a hot meal, my love?’ The elderly woman smiled at Scarlett. ‘I’m Evie. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to, my dear, but it would help us if you could let us know who you are?’

‘Who I am …’ A series of images flashed into Scarlett’s hazy brain.

Her mum running into the scullery and refusing to come out. Her father standing outside the door, demanding to know what it all meant. Her brother, Marcus, shouting at Scarlett and her sister, Ellie, for ruining Christmas Day and Ellie, normally so calm, screaming back that it wasn’t their fault. The house ringing with accusations, shouts, tears and denials … and Marcus’s two boys in the middle of it all, pale-faced and terrified.

Heidi, Scarlett’s sister-in-law, had threatened to take them out of ‘this toxic situation’ before screeching, ‘And I would do if I hadn’t had so much eggnog.’

Scarlett had rounded on her saying: ‘It’s bloody horrible, anyway.’

Then, to cap it all, the smoke alarm had gone off.

‘Jesus Christ, the oven’s on fire!’ Marcus had bellowed. ‘Get the boys out!’

He’d opened the oven door and clouds of smoke had billowed out from the cremated roast potatoes and pigs-in-blankets.

Ellie, of course, had then tried to calm everyone down and their mum had let out a wail from behind the door.

And Scarlett hadn’t cared. She’d wanted her mother to suffer. How could she have done this to the family? To her father? To her?

She’d had to get away, knocking back a full glass of fizz as she went. What a mess, what a horrible mess. She had only just begun to get over her split from her boyfriend, Rafa, and she’d thought she could at least rely on her family for some solace and fun. More importantly, she’d wanted so much to make them happy, to give them something that showed how much she cared for them and appreciated the bond they shared.

Now it had all been blown to smithereens and some of the people she’d thought she knew and loved were strangers to her. Worse, some of them seemed to blame her for what had happened, as if she was the one who’d lied and cheated and lobbed a bomb into the family.

While the smoke alarm shrieked and her siblings argued in the kitchen, she’d slipped through the French windows into the grounds of Seaholly Manor. The cold had snatched her breath away and the sleet had felt like needles on her face, but she hadn’t cared.

She’d fled up the lane, her party dress soaked within minutes, praying no one came after her. Her lungs were bursting by the time she reached the main road. A pick-up truck had passed her, slowing briefly before speeding up again when the driver saw a wet madwoman in a party dress and bunny slippers rushing down the hill into Porthmellow.

She’d been shivering uncontrollably by the time she reached the harbour, its Christmas lights twinkling through the grey haze of a winter noon. That’s when she truly clocked that she might be in danger of hypothermia and that bunny slippers, a party dress and a stomach full of twiglets and Prosecco might not be the best protection against the worst the Atlantic could throw at her.

Reluctantly, she’d realised that the only thing to do was get to a pub or restaurant and call Ellie and ask her to walk down with some dry clothes and meet her … she hadn’t taken her bag or her phone, so she’d have to beg someone to let her use their landline. She wouldn’t call her mother; she couldn’t bear to speak to her – and as for her father, how could she ever face him again?

‘How’s your knee, my maid?’ Evie’s voice reached her. It was gentle and soft, the voice of a mother to her daughter, and triggered a fresh wave of despair at what she’d lost.

Her gaze fell upon the red and bleeding skin beneath the hole in her tights.

Oh yes, she’d stumbled on the cobbles by the Fisherman’s Institute. Just like when she was little and had tumbled, it hadn’t truly hurt until someone had tried to comfort her. Now, it throbbed like mad. Everything had begun to hurt as the numbness thawed, her senses came back to life and the awful realisation of what had happened back at the manor hit her.

The gift – from Scarlett and her older sister, Ellie – was supposed to be the perfect present to her family. It was meant to fill their faces with delight and joy, not pain and anger.

She stared back at Troy, Sam, Evie and Jude, and the blur of faces behind them.

Evie patted her hand. ‘Do you even know who you are, my maid?’

‘I thought I did,’ said Scarlett. ‘But I don’t any more.’

Chapter Two
Two hours earlier Seaholly Manor, Porthmellow

Scarlett took a moment to scan the sitting room at Seaholly Manor. Everything was running like clockwork. The floor was a sea of wrapping paper and packaging, coffee cups and champagne flutes, some containing the dregs of the Buck’s Fizz they’d sipped while opening their presents.

The past few months of careful planning alongside Ellie were about to pay off.

Ellie appeared by Scarlett’s side, a laptop in her arms. ‘Auntie Joan would have approved, don’t you think?’ she murmured.

‘Definitely,’ Scarlett replied, taking the laptop from Ellie.

‘I’ll get us a drink while we set up.’

Ellie went into the kitchen and Scarlett connected her laptop into the TV. A ripple of excitement ran through her. Their plan to have the perfect family Christmas at Seaholly Manor was all going according to plan and yes, Great Aunt Joan would surely have been proud of them. Sadly, she’d passed away in the summer, but Scarlett felt that the Lathams were honouring her memory in the best possible way by gathering at Joan’s home for a couple of weeks.

Joan had been a very successful and flamboyant romance novelist, whose bestselling books had enabled her to buy the eighteenth-century manor in the sixties. She had loved company and was legendary for her parties, held in the lush gardens or on the beach at the bottom of Seaholly Cove. It was Joan who’d left the house to Scarlett’s mother, Anna.

Scarlett, her parents, Marcus and his family all lived within ten miles of each other in Birmingham, although their busy lives meant they didn’t get together as often as they probably ought to. As a rule, their father wasn’t a great one for parties but he’d always been happy to make the journey to Cornwall to spend the holidays with his family.

Scarlett was also particularly looking forward to enjoying some time with her sister, who at thirty-eight was six years her senior. After spending most of her life travelling all over the world while working in bars and cafés, Ellie had moved into the manor in the early autumn as ‘caretaker’. Scarlett was amazed how quickly she’d settled into Porthmellow life after her globetrotting lifestyle. Since returning to the UK, Ellie had found work as ship’s cook with Porthmellow Sailing Trust and helped out at the Harbour Café.

The previous year had brought big changes for Scarlett too, and not in a happy way. She’d broken up with her ex, Rafa, which had knocked her confidence where dating was concerned, and she hadn’t dated anyone since. The split was followed by the loss of a major client from the freelance copywriting business she’d built up over the past few years. Scarlett had written the copy for a large engineering company who made all kinds of screws and fasteners, and while it was hardly glamorous, they gave her a lot of work, from their website to press releases. However the company had been taken over by a giant American corporation who’d made lots of people redundant and slashed their budget, meaning she was having to fight hard to find new business in very uncertain times.

So she was trying hard to stay positive that New Year and a happy Christmas, surrounded by the family she loved, would kick off the fresh start.

Ellie walked in from the kitchen, a grin on her freckled face. ‘Woo hoo! I’ve got a surprise for you.’

She handed Scarlett a glass of something that looked like a Minion who had been put through the blender. ‘Here you go. Have a sniff of this.’

Scarlett wrinkled her nose. ‘What is it?’

‘Heidi’s homemade eggnog,’ said Ellie.

‘Heidi made eggnog?’ Scarlett exclaimed.

‘Shh, she might hear you,’ Ellie said, smirking all the same.

‘I’m just amazed that Healthy Heidi would even think of touching anything alcoholic, especially when mixed with eggs.’

‘She says it’s healthier than the commercial variety, packed with protein, and she’s added some secret ingredients.’

Scarlett pulled a face. ‘Like what?’ She put the glass to her lips.

‘Powdered kelp.’

Scarlett swallowed a gulp of the yellow liquid and gagged. ‘Yeugh.’

Ellie sipped hers and pulled a face. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’

‘Truly horrible, but I don’t want to hurt Heidi’s feelings. Can we chuck it in a plant pot?’ Scarlett headed for a large aspidistra in the corner of the room.

‘I don’t think so. It might not soak into the soil and the plant will probably wilt on the spot. Quick, open the French doors.’

Scarlett took both glasses and stepped into the garden. The contrast in temperature with the cosy house made her chest tighten. Overnight, a cold front had blown in, coating the flagstones with a film of sleet. Her bunny slippers weren’t ideal for venturing too far so she quickly threw the eggnog into a flowerbed and hurried back inside.

‘Brrr. So much for this being the Cornish Riviera. Look at my bunny slippers.’ She held up a foot to Ellie.

Ellie laughed. ‘They are a bit soggy. Let me put them in front of the fire, while you get the laptop ready.’

‘Thanks. You know … I’m starting to have cold feet in other ways. I’m a bit nervous now it’s come to the crunch.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Ellie said, placing the damp slippers on the hearth tiles.

Even though all three of the Latham children were the wrong side of thirty, their parents still gave them stockings, although the ‘fillers’ had long since ceased to fit inside the actual stockings. They always contained small bottles of posh ‘smellies’, the latest book by their favourite author, chocolates and a ‘silly’ gift. This year everyone had received a pair of novelty slippers – even Marcus, who had groaned when he’d opened a pair of size eleven badger slippers.

Ellie was wearing fleecy alpacas, while Scarlett’s feet were cocooned in the fluffy rabbits. They were ridiculously impractical and probably lethal on the polished boards of Seaholly Manor, but wasn’t that the point of a stocking present? It had to be fun and, above all, silly. It was a stark contrast to Marcus and Heidi’s gift – a subscription to a health and fitness magazine and app.

‘I know you both want to turn over a new leaf,’ Heidi had said, with a dazzling smile. ‘But perhaps not today.’ She patted her stomach. ‘Even I’ll be relaxing my regime. Might even treat myself to a smidge of Christmas pud. After all, we can work off all the fat and sugar with some hill training on our run along the coastal path tomorrow, can’t we, Marcus?’

Marcus had almost snorted his Bailey’s onto the rug. ‘Um … Maybe not in these, eh, Heidi?’ He held up his badger-clad feet and everyone had laughed. Even Heidi had managed a titter before remarking,

‘Perhaps not, but you can definitely try out your new Christmas trainers tomorrow, darling.’

As Marcus sought refuge in the Good Beer Guide that Scarlett had given him, Scarlett hugged her sister-in-law. Over Heidi’s shoulder, she and her father had exchanged a knowing glance. He was now the proud owner of a Fitbit, whether he wanted to be or not.

‘Thank you, Heidi – and Marcus. I’m sure I’ll be very grateful for the subscription in the new year,’ Scarlett said. ‘Aren’t you going to try on your piglet slippers? Mum and Dad spent ages choosing an animal to suit each of us. The piglet was my idea,’ she said brightly. ‘Fabulous, aren’t they?’

Heidi’s eyes narrowed behind her forced smile. ‘Hilarious … but what made you think a piglet was appropriate?’

‘Well, you know, you’re so not a pig, are you? You’re so slim and healthy and you never pig out …’ Scarlett back-pedalled frantically. ‘And, um, a piglet is very cute. And pink.’

‘Cute and pink?’ Heidi raised her perfectly arched brows.

Marcus glanced up from his book. ‘I’d like to know whose idea it was to make me a badger.’

‘Dad’s, I think,’ Scarlett said, moving to her father’s side and perching on the arm of the chair next to him. ‘Wasn’t it, Dad?’

Roger waggled his feet. ‘I shouldn’t take offence, Heidi,’ he said wryly. ‘At least you’re not an elephant like me.’

‘That’s something, I suppose,’ Heidi muttered, eyeing the pink furry footwear with disdain before brightening up. ‘Now, does anyone want to try my healthy Christmas cocktail? I got it from an Instarecipe and it’s a superfoods version.’

Scarlett rubbed her hands together, trying to mollify her sister-in-law. ‘Luvverly. Sounds delish.’

‘In that case, I’ll pour you an extra large one,’ said Heidi, and scooted off to the kitchen.

As well as the stockings, their parents had given Ellie a tiny model Porsche along with some cash to help get her ancient car repaired. Scarlett had already received a contribution towards the new laptop she was now setting up next to the TV in the sitting room. They were very thoughtful presents, even Heidi’s – she probably thought she was helping to save her sisters-in-law from a whole raft of health problems caused by addiction to Bombay Sapphire and Hotel Chocolat.

At least, Scarlett thought, she hadn’t received A Self-Help Guide to Dating and Relationships, although it might have come in handy, considering her lack of progress since she’d split with Rafa. He’d been dark and handsome in the best Spanish tradition, a keen triathlete and a tennis player like his namesake. Maybe Heidi was hinting that Scarlett should take more exercise than the regular group swim sessions she enjoyed at her local ‘baths’ in Birmingham, although Scarlett went to the class as much for the social side as the workout.

There was one thing for sure. She had no intention of taking the plunge while in Cornwall. A toe-dip in the waters the day before had proved that was out of the question. These folk who did Boxing Day swims were barking, she’d decided.

Ellie opened the bottle of crème caramel liqueur that Scarlett had given her and topped up the empty eggnog glasses.

Scarlett connected the cable from the computer to the TV, surprised to find her fingers fumbling with the connectors. She was used to giving client presentations when pitching for a copywriting project but now the moment had come, she was nervous. She’d held onto the secret for over two months now and the suspense was killing her. It seemed like forever since she’d come down to Cornwall bearing the small box that had arrived from TreeFynder, a DNA testing company and ancestry website.

It had been Scarlett’s idea to arrange the test, which had been billed on the site as ‘The Ultimate Family Christmas Gift’. Her father, a retired civil engineer, had an interest in history and had often joked that the Lathams had Viking heritage. Marcus had often mentioned he’d be interested in finding out more too. It had seemed like the perfect celebration of the Latham family’s close bonds and an entertaining way to spend Christmas Day. She and Ellie had both agreed that Auntie Joan, who’d loved her extended family dearly, would have been delighted at the gift.

Admittedly, the initial DNA test had been slightly gross. Scarlett and Ellie had had to spit into a pot and the test had required a surprising amount of saliva. She recalled the two of them standing in this very room all those weeks ago, reading the instructions with a mix of excitement and disgust.

‘Can you imagine Auntie Joan’s face, if she’d known we were spitting in her sitting room?’ Scarlett had asked.

Ellie had laughed and held up the pot. ‘Maybe we should rename it the spitting room.’

The results had taken about four weeks to arrive. The pots had gone off to TreeFynder.com and the results were posted online. They would reveal Scarlett and Ellie’s heritage and be linked to other people around the world who shared their DNA, if they were registered with the same company.

It had taken everything for Scarlett not to look at the report, but it seemed like cheating if she knew the outcome ahead of everyone else, so she managed to restrain herself. She’d know everything in a few minutes, anyway.

‘Hey, you two.’ Her father, wearing a stripy apron, popped his head round the sitting room door. ‘Are you ready yet with this “big surprise”?’

Anna followed him into the room. Their mother’s face was red from the heat of the kitchen. ‘The suspense is killing us, isn’t it, Roger?’ she said. ‘And as everything’s under control in the kitchen for a bit, can we get it over with?’

Ellie nodded. ‘Yes. You can round up the troops, Dad, if you don’t mind.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s like herding cats, but I’ll do my best. What about the boys?’

‘Oh, you can leave them in the snug with their games,’ Scarlett said, aware that tearing the boys away from their Xboxes might be impossible anyway. ‘Thanks for coming all this way for Christmas.’

‘How could I miss it?’ He put his arm around her. ‘Especially with this big surprise you and Ellie have planned. You’ve been acting like a pair of kids for the past week. No idea what it is, though.’

‘All will be revealed any moment.’

A few minutes later, Roger managed to get everyone – except the twins – gathered in the sitting room with a glass of fizz in their hands. Six pairs of eyes turned on Scarlett in expectation.

Her parents were sharing the love seat, while Marcus and Heidi occupied the larger of the two sofas. Ellie was perched on the edge of the small sofa, a smile on her face. Only she knew what was coming. Now it came to the announcement, Scarlett had a momentary wobble. What if the gift was an anti-climax after all this build-up?

‘You’ve probably guessed that I’ve been up to something, and Ellie has been in on the surprise for a while. This present is especially for you, Mum, Dad and Marcus, but you’ll be interested too, Heidi.’

Her parents exchanged glances.

‘You’ll love it, Dad,’ Scarlett said, mentally crossing her fingers. ‘You know how you’ve always said you must be a Viking?’

‘Er … Yes …’ Her dad looked a little confused. A quiet, thoughtful man with an engineer’s precise mind, he wasn’t given to effusive outbursts. However, Scarlett was convinced he’d be totally fascinated by all the data and details uncovered by the test.

Marcus snorted. ‘What is this present? A custom-made helmet with horns?’

Heidi sniggered. ‘Not planning on pillaging Porthmellow, are you?’

Their mum frowned. ‘Am I the only one who’s confused?’

‘It’s not a helmet,’ said Scarlett. ‘It’s something even more exciting, and it’s for everyone. Now we’re going to find out if you really are a Viking, Dad. Ellie, are you set?’

‘Yup.’ Ellie held up her phone.

Scarlett tapped her keyboard and a page from the TreeFynder website appeared on the telly, complete with its tree logo and banner announcing:

Discover your roots with TreeFynder!

She cringed at the cheesy copy on the ancestry website. Privately, she’d have loved to rewrite it all and get a new design done – as with most websites – but that was for another day.

Marcus and her parents sat back, intent on the TV screen. Heidi crossed her legs and smiled. ‘Gosh, the suspense is killing me.’

‘All will become clear,’ Scarlett said dramatically, ignoring Heidi’s sarcasm but slightly disappointed by the baffled expressions of the rest of the family.

She logged on and the screen flashed up a message:

Congrats! Here is your Latham family tree!

‘A couple of months ago, Ellie and I decided to have our DNA tested, so we could find out our genetic roots, and we really will know if Dad’s a Viking.’

Marcus let out a whistle. ‘Now this is interesting. I’ve always wanted to do this.’

Re-sult, thought Scarlett in triumph. ‘Right. Deep breath, because neither Ellie nor I have looked at the results. We thought it would be more of a surprise for everyone that way.’

‘It’s been so hard not to check out the site,’ Ellie said.

‘Without further ado, now we find out who our ancestors were. Ta da!’ Scarlett declared and tapped her mouse pad. At the same time, Ellie clicked on her own results on her phone.

The silence could only have lasted a second or two, but it seemed far longer to Scarlett, already wound up to fever pitch after keeping the secret for so long.

Her mother spoke first. ‘Um. This is very exciting, I’m sure, but what does it all mean?’

Scarlett had spent so long on the TreeFynder site, learning how to interpret the potential results of the ancestry test, that she’d forgotten the figures and tables on the screen would mean nothing to anyone but her and Ellie. The actual findings were a complete surprise to her too, but she knew what they might mean in principle.

‘Well, both Ellie and I have had our DNA tested, which of course tells us about the rest of our relations and ancestors – and yours.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Marcus leaned forward.

‘How fascinating,’ Heidi muttered, picking up a magazine.

‘Obviously it doesn’t cover Heidi, but it will show the boys’ heritage too,’ Scarlett said, hoping to win Heidi over.

Heidi let the magazine rest in her lap, her attention caught at last.

‘Yes, can you please explain this to those of us still stuck in the Stone Age,’ her father said.

‘OK. Well, Ellie and I sent off a sample of our DNA to this ancestry site and these are the results of their analysis. This chart shows the areas of the world and types of people who are our ancestors. It says that I’m 60 per cent Iberian, 20 per cent Irish and 20 per cent other ethnicity. So – no Viking …’

Ellie held up her phone. ‘I am! Mine says I’m 70 per cent Scandinavian, 15 per cent Irish and 15 per cent other ethnicity.’

‘They’re very different. Is that normal?’ Marcus asked.

‘According to the guidelines, siblings can have very different genetic make-ups. Dad’s the Viking and Mum’s obviously the Mediterranean one. I have a different mix of Mum and Dad’s DNA to Ellie.’

‘That’s no surprise. You’ve always looked like Mum,’ said Marcus.

‘She certainly loves her Spanish holidays,’ her father said drily. ‘Now we know why.’

Their mother flashed a smile. ‘Which reminds me, I must go and check on the potatoes.’

Marcus, Ellie and Scarlett exchanged wide-eyed looks, wondering how potatoes could have anything to do with Spanish holidays.

Anna got up, holding the tea towel she’d carried in from the kitchen.

Ellie groaned. ‘Oh, don’t miss the best bit. The potatoes can wait, Mum.’

‘You won’t say that when you get a plate full of blackened lumps for lunch.’

‘I’ll check them,’ Heidi said, clearly looking for an excuse to get away from the family love-in. Actually, Scarlett didn’t blame her on this occasion and it might be less awkward if she wasn’t there.

‘Are you sure you can manage?’ Anna looked worried at the prospect of Heidi handling a tray of potatoes. ‘They are roasted in goose fat, you know …’

‘I’ll cope somehow.’ Heidi got up and patted her shoulder. ‘You enjoy your special present, Anna.’

Scarlett wasn’t sure if her sister-in-law was being sarcastic or not, but she let it drop. Their mum sat back down on the sofa, still clutching the tea towel.

‘Now, here’s the really exciting part …’ She hovered the cursor over the Find Relatives menu. ‘Who knows. We might find some long-lost second cousins on here. Maybe we’re related to royalty, like Danny Dyer is.’

Marcus groaned. ‘God, I hope not!’

Their father laughed.

‘I don’t think we’re in line for the throne, Dad, but – oh look, we have a first degree relative on the site,’ said Scarlett. ‘What a surprise. Not.’

‘That’ll be me, of course,’ said Ellie, clicking her phone. ‘Because we’re both registered on their database … Let’s take a look. Oh, yes … oh …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Oh.’

‘What?’ Scarlett asked.

‘I think I’ll go and help Heidi with the roasters.’ Their mother was halfway out of the door.

‘Mum, wait! Stay and see some more.’ Scarlett couldn’t conceal her disappointment. Then again, it was her father who loved history.

‘Sprouts need putting on!’ she shouted.

‘This early?’ Marcus laughed. ‘Come on, Ellie, show us this relative-finder thing.’

‘It, um … seems to have disappeared.’ Ellie held up a black phone screen and aimed a look at Scarlett. There was desperation in her eyes.

‘Don’t worry, I can get it up on the telly,’ said Scarlett, cheerfully.

‘Wait!’

Ellie’s cry was too late. The 72-inch screen flashed up a notification.

You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.

Marcus dived on it like a hawk. ‘Half-sibling? What’s that supposed to mean?’

Ellie couldn’t suppress her gasp and exchanged a panicky glance with Scarlett. ‘That’s wrong. It’s not possible. We don’t have any half-siblings.’

‘It must mean sister or brother, of course,’ said their dad. ‘It can only refer to you and Ellie.’

It must refer to her and Ellie. Half-siblings. Scarlett went cold all over as the implications sank in like wet slush soaking through the bunny slippers. Ellie stared at her; lips pressed together. When Ellie had seen the results on her phone, she’d tried to stop Scarlett from sharing them with the rest of the family.

‘It must be a mistake. Let’s try again.’ Faking a sigh of exasperation, Scarlett refreshed the page, hoping against hope it would miraculously show a different answer. But a second later, it flashed up the same horrible phrase.

You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.

The words leapt out at Scarlett and seared themselves on her brain. She felt sick.

Half-sibling.

Their father frowned at the screen. ‘I don’t understand—’

‘Scarlett’s right. There must have been a cock-up.’ Ellie got up and turned off the TV. ‘I think they’ve mixed up our DNA with someone else’s. It must happen a lot.’

‘I doubt it,’ Marcus said, ‘I’ve heard these labs are very accurate.’

‘Actually, I saw a programme that said there can be a big margin of error,’ Ellie declared. ‘Huge.’

‘Then why did you bother getting tested?’ Marcus said sharply, treating both of them to a glare.

‘Because we thought it would be fun …’ Scarlett said. ‘Didn’t we, Ellie? Dad’s always wanted to know if he has any Viking in him, and we thought it would be the perfect family present.’

‘Obviously, it isn’t,’ Marcus said, narrowing his eyes at Scarlett again.

‘Let’s not worry about it now. We’ll contact the site after Christmas and get our money back,’ Ellie said, then sniffed the air. ‘Hmm, what’s that amazing smell? I think dinner must be nearly ready.’

‘Mum’s only just put the sprouts on,’ Marcus muttered, his eyes straying to the laptop.

‘Shall I get us all another glass of Prosecco?’ Scarlett piped up, feeling as if she might throw up. She didn’t want Prosecco and had no idea how she was going to eat Christmas dinner.

‘But I don’t understand,’ their father insisted as Scarlett snatched up her laptop, intent on hiding it under her bed, as if that would make any difference at all to the results. The genie was out of the bottle now. Her hands were shaking.

‘If your DNA test says you and Ellie are half-siblings, what does it mean …’ Their father looked at them both. Scarlett hugged the laptop. Oh God, everything was becoming horrifyingly clear. Their mother’s lack of enthusiasm for the DNA test, slinking out of the room when they tried to find their relatives. Oh, Christ on a bike, what the hell had she unleashed on her family?

‘Nothing, because it’s a computer error or a mix-up in the lab. Don’t worry about it, Dad,’ said Ellie. ‘Blooming rip-off! For all we know, TreeFynder doesn’t even have a real lab and it’s a couple of kids with a chemistry set in their bedroom. Let’s forget it for now and have another drink. What do you all want?’

Their father nodded but seemed confused and quiet. Marcus, however, would not be silenced. ‘But I’m still confused about exactly what the results mean,’ he said insistently. Scarlett loved her brother, for all his faults, but at this moment would have happily wished him to evaporate.

‘Marcus. There’s no point having the conversation. Now, come on, let me get you a drink.’

As she looked at him, it hit her. Marcus and Ellie both had their father’s thick dark curly hair. Scarlett was fair. Her mum had light brown hair that the sun bleached in summer, but Scarlett was blonde all year round, and almost wheaten in the sunny months. Her hair was straight and easily tamed, which Ellie had always envied but Scarlett thought was a bit boring compared to Ellie’s bouncy curls. Her siblings had strong noses, ever so slightly ‘Roman’, according to Auntie Joan – which hadn’t amused Marcus, but had made Ellie burst out laughing and start muttering, ‘Hail, Great Caesar,’ to him.

As they’d grown older, Ellie and Marcus had changed but had always at some point resembled their dad. Scarlett never had.

If that test was accurate … Scarlett felt as if she was about to suffocate and her stomach clenched. She had to get out, or she might be sick, but Heidi blocked the doorway, her hands still in oven gauntlets. She’d obviously been there much longer than they’d realised.

‘I’m sure this is all a mistake, Roger,’ she said, looking at their father with pity. ‘Because if that test is accurate, it means that Ellie and Scarlett can’t possibly have the same father. One of them isn’t your daughter.’

Chapter Three
Nine months later October 1 2019

‘Ellie. Marcus here. I’m calling re: Christmas. I’ve got five mins between meetings so I thought I’d phone before you make any plans.’

Ellie’s heart sank at the mention of Christmas.

‘Hi, Marcus …’ Ellie could hear phones ringing in the background of her brother’s Birmingham office, in sharp contrast to the quiet of Seaholly Manor.

He launched in again, cutting her off.

‘It may only be the start of October, but you know Scarlett likes to organise us all. Or used to. It’s of no matter anyway, because we won’t be coming to the manor for Christmas. Although after last year’s catastrophe, I expect you’ve already worked that one out. I’m assuming that Mum and Dad won’t be there either.’

She held the phone away from her ear, trying to rein in her irritation. Finding out that their family wasn’t what they’d thought had been a hell of a shock for all of them, but Marcus had taken it very hard.

‘I don’t know what their plans are yet,’ she said patiently.

‘Whatever they decide to do – or not do – we definitely won’t be coming down to Cornwall. We’ve booked a skiing chalet in Courcheval with some friends and we leave on the twenty-seventh. Heidi thought it would be good for the boys to get some exercise instead of lazing about, and besides, they’re getting to the age where they’d rather be with their mates than hanging around with family in a draughty old house. And, to be honest, Heidi still hasn’t got over the trauma of last year. None of us have—’

‘Right …’ Ellie interrupted his flow. He sounded irritated and guilty and her own patience was running out as fast as sand in an egg timer. Which reminded her of last Christmas. Heidi’s face when Ellie had told her the eggnog tasted like sick. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

‘Um, Els … Have you seen Mum recently? I’ve been worried about her.’ Marcus’s clipped tone lost its edge, instantly taking Ellie back to the unsure younger brother she used to know. He did love their parents dearly and had been especially close to their mother. Marcus and his dad hadn’t always got on that well, but the bomb that Scarlett’s ‘Christmas gift’ had lobbed into that relationship had changed the dynamics.

Marcus was finding it hard to believe his mum had had an affair, and even harder to believe she wouldn’t admit to it. They all were, although Ellie’s priority was to support both parents in trying to save their marriage, which until eleven a.m. last Christmas Day, had appeared to be long and happy. Scarlett had been and still was devastated and since then, Ellie had had to set aside her own feelings of shock and disbelief to support the others as best she could. Privately, however, she’d spent many sleepless nights worrying about its devastating effects on her family.

‘Ellie?’

‘Not since she came to stay a couple of weeks ago. I’ve spoken to her on the phone plenty of times. She called me from work. I’ve spoken to Dad, too.’

‘And? Have they come to any decisions?’

‘Not yet. They’re still sleeping in separate rooms from what I can work out. Scarlett paid them a visit a couple of days ago.’

‘I’m surprised they let her in the house!’

‘Dad invited her … but Mum was there too. Marcus, how many times do I have to tell you that this mess isn’t Scarlett’s fault?’

‘I know it’s not totally her fault, obviously, but if she’d never bought that bloody test kit, none of this would have happened. She does have a tendency to put her foot in it, ever since she was a kid.’

‘Don’t blame Scarlett. This whole thing has hurt her more than anyone.’

‘She’s still not speaking to Mum, then?’

‘Not really. She still sees Dad and phones him, but I don’t think she and Mum are on speaking terms.’ Ellie wasn’t sure just how the revelations had changed Scarlett’s relationship with their father, but she wasn’t going to complicate things by voicing that to Marcus.

‘Humph.’

‘Marcus?’

‘I still say that the test was wrong.’

‘What? Both of them?’ Ellie replied, shuddering at the memory of Scarlett’s fresh disappointment when they took a private DNA test that proved she was ‘only’ Ellie’s half-sister. Their mother had been angry and hurt but continued to insist there had to be a mistake.

‘I wish none of this had ever happened. If Mum did – you know, with another bloke – then why won’t she admit it?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s obviously a deeply painful experience for her as well as the rest of us. Until, and if, Mum is willing to share the truth, how can you expect Scarlett – and Dad – to start understanding and forgiving her? We don’t know any of the circumstances.’

‘I suppose not …’ Marcus said grudgingly. Ellie hated to see the turmoil the family was going through, but as the eldest, she felt obliged to try and keep the peace. Her travels over the years had also, she admitted, given her a slight distance – and a fresh perspective on family life. She’d seen a lot of unusual family set-ups while she’d worked and lived all over the world, enough to remind her that no one’s circumstances were ever as smooth as they might appear.

The old grandfather clock struck the half hour, startling Ellie.

‘Marcus. Can we talk about this later, please?’ she asked. ‘I have to go to work. Someone’s off sick at the café and they want me for the lunch service.’

‘The café? I thought you were working on a yacht.’

‘It’s a vintage sailing trawler actually, but it’s the end of the season so I’m only helping in the office two days a week. I’ve started doing some shifts in the Harbour Café again.’

He huffed. ‘Oh, well, I suppose you need a bit of money for extras and stuff. Lucky you don’t have to pay a mortgage or rent.’

‘Mum and Dad seem OK with the arrangement at the moment, and they’ve got enough on their plate without worrying about whether or not to sell this place. It’s not good to leave old houses like this empty, especially over the winter. I’m keeping the place safe and secure until they decide what to do with it, and I’m doing the garden and small maintenance jobs.’ Which took up a lot of her time, she could have added, not that Marcus would realise, because he didn’t know one end of a screwdriver from another.

‘They can’t even decide whether they want to stay married, so I shouldn’t hold your breath. Although if they do get a divorce, they’ll have to sell the manor and you’ll have to move out.’

‘Sorry. What was that?’ Ellie held the phone at arm’s length, fuming quietly that her attempts to soothe him had obviously failed. ‘I can’t hear you, the signal’s really bad down here.’ She heard his tinny voice say something about ‘being prepared for the worst’ then banged the handset on the hall table. ‘Oh no! Damn! I’ve lost you. Speak soon!’

She hung up.

Swearing under her breath, Ellie scooped up her car keys from the hall table. With a bit of luck, Marcus would be too wrapped up in his waste-management meeting to remember he’d called her landline.

As she drove, she thought back on her conversation with Marcus – it had renewed her worries about everyone involved, especially Scarlett. While Marcus had gone into a similar path of denial to their mother, choosing to blame Ellie and Scarlett for opening up a can of worms, Scarlett had taken the opposite and perhaps more understandable route: retreating from their mum and blaming her. Ellie understood this, even if she thought it wouldn’t help the rifts to heal any faster, or encourage their mum to open up. Not only did Scarlett have to cope with the turmoil of their parents’ estrangement, she also had to come to terms with finding out that her dad wasn’t her biological father. Scarlett couldn’t even begin to do that while their mother refused to be honest with them.

At least Ellie’s work at the bustling Harbour Café, with its cheerful boss and quirky clientele, kept her mind off her problems for a while. She loved Porthmellow in all its moods, even on a foggy autumn evening such as this, with mist wreathing around the old clock tower and the waves slip-slopping against the harbour walls. With its cosy beamed interior, the café was at the heart of village life; bustling with locals and visitors from breakfast till teatime.

Twilight was falling by the time she walked out of the old building onto the quayside. It was almost completely dark when she reached the dead-end lane that followed a stream down one side of the steep valley to Seaholly Manor and then the tiny cove itself.

The bare branches of the trees lining the cove lane were spidery in the gloom. Some people might have found the manor spooky on their own, but Ellie had spent nights in some ‘interesting’ places around the world and ghosts didn’t bother her. In fact, she wouldn’t have minded a chat with Auntie Joan again, bless her. Ellie hadn’t seen her that often, but it was enough to miss her witty, sharp conversations and anecdotes about famous authors. Joan had never been shy about relating her romantic adventures either. Their mother would probably have been horrified to hear what she’d shared once the girls were over eighteen. Even before then, they’d delighted in reading her novels, especially the ones in black and red covers that were written under another name that Joan kept in a chest in her room and didn’t think they knew about.

Seaholly Manor had so many happy associations that Ellie felt she could never be afraid there. It was also unlikely that anyone would find their way down to the manor by accident, as it wasn’t signposted from the road. Unless the burglars had a thing for first editions and filthy fiction, there was nothing worth nicking anyway. Still, on such a gloomy night, she was looking forward to getting inside and making up the fire before phoning Scarlett to see if she was OK.

The road levelled out and narrowed over the last few hundred yards to the manor. From nowhere, a shadow darted out from the bushes and across the road.

Ellie let out a cry and swerved to avoid the fox. A heartbeat later, there was a bang as the car slammed against the hedgerow. The seatbelt tightened across her chest and there was only silence.

It took a few seconds for Ellie to get her breath back. Gingerly, she flexed her wrists and hands and waited for any stabs of pain in her neck or back. The seatbelt had done its job, which was why she was out of breath, but otherwise she seemed to be OK. The car, however, probably wasn’t. That sickening crash hadn’t been the sound of metal hitting mere twigs. Like many Cornish hedgerows, this one had an earthen bank, reinforced with stones, at its heart.

The vehicle was at an angle, so she was able to open the door and swing her legs onto the tarmac. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the road lit only by a sliver of moon appearing now and then from behind the clouds.

She shone her phone torch on the front of the car. The bonnet was warped and the bumper was crumpled and pushed back into the engine.

‘Oh f-f—’ It looked pretty bad and she already guessed that the insurance company would write it off. That was all she needed. She also had the problem of what to do next, because she doubted it was driveable. She’d have to call out the local garage to tow it, if she could get hold of them. She was blocking the road too, not that anyone else was likely to use it.

The car wouldn’t start, so she was about to phone the Porthmellow Garage when she heard the low rumble of another vehicle coming down the lane. Two headlights wavered in the gloom and her heart sank further.

They belonged to a Ford Transit of the kind Scarlett loved to call a ‘kidnapper’s van’. Hairs stood up on the back of Ellie’s neck and she prepared to jump into the Fiesta and lock the doors. It stopped a few feet away, the door opened and a man got out. She didn’t recognise him but she knew one thing: he cut an unnerving figure in the dark. He was over six feet, wearing a black leather jacket and built like the proverbial brick outhouse.

She debated whether to jump inside while she had the chance, but told herself to be sensible and assume he had a rational explanation for being on the lane. A wrong turn in the fog was surely more likely than him looking for people to abduct?

‘Hello. Are you OK?’ he called as he approached. His accent wasn’t broad, but more importantly, his tone was concerned. Ellie let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

‘Yes. My car isn’t though. I swerved because of a fox … It was instinct. That’s why I’m blocking the road.’

‘That doesn’t matter, as long as you’re not hurt. You’re sure you’re all right?’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Ellie gave him a closer look. ‘Did you take a wrong turning down here in the fog? Porthmellow’s the next road.’

He smiled. ‘No, I meant to drive down here. I’m Aaron Carman. I’ve just moved into Cove Cottage.’

‘Really? I had no idea …You weren’t there yesterday when I went for a walk on the beach.’ And no one had told her that a man was moving into the only other house for a mile around, and she’d have expected to hear about it on the Porthmellow grapevine. ‘I’m Ellie Latham. I live at the manor house,’ she added.

‘Pleased to meet you, Ellie, but not under these circumstances. Actually, I only moved in late last night. I brought my own stuff in the van. I don’t have much.’ He tutted loudly at the Fiesta. ‘Your car could be a write-off, you know.’

‘I know.’ She gritted her teeth.

‘That’s a shame. Would you like me to help you shift it to the manor?’

Ellie was more aware than ever that she was alone in the dark with a complete stranger offering to come to her house. On the other hand, it would be a lot simpler than calling out the garage in Porthmellow after hours.

‘Um …’

‘It’s no trouble,’ he said, moving closer and resting his hand on the bonnet.

Ellie looked up at him and a light bulb flashed in her brain. Those handsome features, the light brown skin, his upright bearing … ‘Did you say you were called Aaron Carman?’

‘Yes. Why? Has my bad reputation preceded me down here?’

Ellie smiled, despite her predicament. She felt on safer ground now. ‘No. The opposite, in fact. You must be Troy and Evie’s son? I’d no idea you were moving into the cottage. I thought you were in the army.’

He smiled. ‘I was, but I’m out now. Long story. Now, come on, why don’t you let me help you with the car?’

Her feeling of relief from knowing Aaron was unlikely to be a serial killer was followed by the minor irritation that he thought she couldn’t handle the situation. ‘It might be difficult getting it to start at all. Do you know anything about cars?’

‘A bit. I was in charge of a tank-mechanic engineering squad in the army until recently. I’ve dug armoured vehicles out of ditches, so I think I might be able to get your Fiesta down to the manor.’

‘Oh. OK …’ Ellie silently cursed herself for underestimating him but also realised she was in no position to refuse his help. ‘In that case, I’d really appreciate it. Thanks.’

Aaron helped her push the car off the road and then fetched a rope from the van before moving it ahead of the Fiesta. In no time, with Ellie at the wheel, he’d towed her the few hundred yards to the manor.

She unlocked the door and stood in the hall with him. The lights revealed him in his full glory. Though he had to be in his mid-forties, he was still a very good-looking guy, with an easy-going confidence that sat well with his military bearing. She could also see the resemblance to his mother, Evie, who lived in the town and was on the festival committee.

‘I’ll call the garage in the morning,’ she said, wondering what to say next. She didn’t want to seem forward but also felt she should thank him in some way. ‘Erm, would you like to come in for a coffee, or are you too busy unpacking?’

‘I’m not too busy for a coffee. Thanks. Better wash my hands first, though.’

‘Me too.’ She held up her grubby palms. ‘There’s a cloakroom here off the hall and that’s the sitting room opposite. Make yourself at home. I’ll be back with the coffee in a minute.’

Now the adrenaline of dealing with the accident was wearing off, Ellie was calming down. She scrubbed her own hands in the scullery sink and then made a pot of strong coffee. She really felt like having a whisky with it but decided against it.

A few minutes later, she was sitting opposite Aaron, both of them cradling mugs. He’d poured liberal amounts of hot milk into his and added a spoon of sugar. He certainly didn’t need to watch his diet, Ellie thought, hardly able to take her eyes off his impressive physique. There was no way that anyone would fit on the love seat beside him. He must have been six foot three at least, and she could hardly miss the breadth of his thighs or the width of his shoulders especially now he’d taken off his jacket and laid it neatly on the back of a chair. Every time he moved, some muscle or other rippled.

He sipped his coffee and smiled. ‘You know, I was a bit worried about stopping on the lane in the dark.’

Ellie laughed, slightly nervously, as she recalled her initial reaction to him. ‘Why? Did you think I might be a serial killer?’

He chuckled. ‘No, I thought you might think I was. I can come as a bit of a shock to some people.’

You can say that again, thought Ellie. ‘I should have recognised your name at once. Your mum has mentioned you to me before but I was a bit shaken by the bump. How long have you been out of the army?’

‘Not that long. I left a couple of months ago but recently decided to move here. I’m starting a new business … I’m my own boss. Do you know my mum and dad well?’

‘A bit. I’ve got to know them better since I’ve been involved in the Winter Solstice Festival. Evie and Troy are on the committee, as I’m sure you know.’

‘You’ll never get away now. It’s all I hear about from them. Have you lived here long?’

‘Only since last autumn. This isn’t my house. It belongs to my parents but I’m caretaker until they decide what to do with it. Maybe your mum mentioned it?’ she asked, wondering how much gossip there was about her parents’ situation. She’d told her boss at the café and a couple of colleagues at the sailing trust and there was bound to have been talk about the row that resulted in Scarlett’s dramatic entrance at the pub on Christmas Day.

‘I only hear the gossip Mum tells me in her emails and letters. A lot of it means nothing to me, but Mum loves keeping me up to date so I was always happy to hear it. Since I’ve come home, she’s had a field day with all the latest Porthmellow scandal.’

Ellie wondered if he did know about the Lathams but was too polite to say as much. ‘Your mum’s lovely. So funny and kind. She must have missed you very much while you were away.’

‘Maybe more than she’d let on. I joined up when I was eighteen and I’ve spent most of my time in REME.’

‘REME? Sorry, you’ve lost me.’

‘Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. Basically, I helped to look after the army’s equipment in all kinds of um … “interesting” places.’

Ellie winced. ‘That figures. Sorry for asking if you knew anything about cars.’

He grinned. ‘It was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask when confronted by a strange bloke in the dark. Bet you thought I was about to do a spot of mansplaining?’

‘Nooo …’ Ellie smiled. ‘OK, yes, but now I cringe when I think of what I said.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ His deep brown eyes twinkled with gentle amusement.

So, not only gorgeous but a sense of humour, thought Ellie. ‘Thanks,’ she said, eager to move the conversation on to other topics. ‘We do have something in common.’

‘I’m intrigued.’ He had a lovely voice, deep and, now she had time to listen more closely, with a definite trace of a Cornish accent.

‘I’ve spent a lot of my life abroad too, and had some exciting times, though in far less dangerous places. I’ve been travelling and working in the Caribbean and Thailand and Australia ever since I left college.’ Ellie didn’t qualify that she was halfway through her degree at the time she left. It was ancient history now anyway, but lately the disastrous relationship that had made her abandon her studies had been on her mind. The man at the heart of that relationship had close links to the local area, and possibly still did.

She’d run away from heartbreak and nineteen years later, she often wondered if she’d stopped running since.

She and Aaron carried on chatting about some of the places they’d been to, and although he made light of his time in the services, Ellie guessed that his tours of Afghanistan and Sierra Leone had probably been very tough. He told her a little more about his plans to set up an events security business based in Porthmellow, which let her know that he was planning to stick around for a little while. In no time, half an hour had whizzed by and the chimes of the hall clock striking seven interrupted them.

‘I’d better not keep you any longer. If I can help with the car repairs, let me know. I could do the work myself if you’d like. A mate has a lock-up in town. Either way, while we’re both around, it would be great to get to know you better. I’ll probably be up here a lot, borrowing a cup of sugar like my mum says they used to in the old days.’

Ellie laughed. She could imagine Evie Carman saying that. ‘You’re welcome to borrow as much sugar as you like.’

She waved him off at the door and watched the taillights of his van as it drove the last few hundred yards down to Cove Cottage. Ellie closed the door behind him and flopped down on the sofa. Finally, she poured herself a whisky, allowing the tangy warmth to make its way through her veins. The shock of the accident on top of a full day on her feet was wearing off. She felt physically exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t let her fall asleep on the sofa as she often did. Her thoughts kept returning to the man who had occupied the love seat for the past half an hour.

Aaron was disturbing in every way and it wasn’t only due to his sheer physical presence. As they’d chatted, the Cornish burr that emerged reminded her of his connections to Porthmellow, which were way deeper than hers. She’d found herself drawn to his quiet confidence, probably acquired from decades of being in command. He looked so at ease in her sitting room, but then he must be used to making himself at home anywhere, even more so than she was.

Yet she felt the need to keep reminding herself that she might not be at Seaholly for long and that he might move on soon if his new business didn’t work out. Neither of them might have the chance to get to know each other that well.

The pang of disappointment was sharper than it ought to be, considering she’d only met Aaron a few hours ago. Then again, it was par for the course where her love life was concerned. Fleeting relationships and brief encounters had been the hallmark of her life. Maybe it was her destiny to drift in and out of people’s lives – and vice versa – and never settle down. After all, the one time she’d wanted to spend her whole life with a man, it had ended in sorrow and chaos. She was already getting too comfortable at Seaholly Manor, a house she couldn’t afford to keep in her wildest dreams. If her parents split up, they wouldn’t be able to keep it either, so she’d better not get any more attached to it, and especially not to her attractive new neighbour.

The phone rang and Ellie dragged herself off the sofa. Argh, she’d meant to call Scarlett to see how she was. It was a good bet this was her now.

‘Ellie? Have I woken you up? You sound sleepy.’

‘No, Scarlett. I wasn’t asleep. In fact, I was about to call you.’ Ellie debated whether to tell her about the ‘bump’ and Aaron then decided to save it for now.

‘Were you? Well, I thought I’d better get in first. I have a favour to ask you.’

‘Um … yes?’

‘Can I come stay at the manor?’

Ellie perked up, pleased to hear Scarlett slightly brighter. ‘Any time. Of course, you know I’d love to see you. Have you decided how long you can stay over Christmas yet? Obviously, I’m hoping to see you before then, too.’

In the brief silence, Ellie heard the clock strike the quarter hour and the wind gusting outside.

Then Scarlett came on the line again. ‘Actually, it’s a bigger favour than that and I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it. Not after my last idea went so badly wrong.’

Sensing she might need the support, Ellie took the phone into the sitting room and sat on the sofa again. What the heck was Scarlett up to now?

‘Shoot. This favour can’t be that bad, can it?’ She said it light-heartedly, because she knew she’d do anything she could to help Scarlett. She was half-expecting it to have something to do with their mum.

‘OK. Deep breath and you can say no if you want to, but the thing is … would you mind very much if I moved in with you?’

Ellie stopped herself from drawing an inward breath. So, shocks really did come in threes.

‘Ellie? Have you fainted?’

‘No, of course not. You know you’re more than welcome. I’d love to have you,’ Ellie said, meaning it but also realising how she’d become used to having the run of the manor lately. ‘What’s brought this about? I thought you loved your flat in Brum.’

‘I do – did – but I’ve been here a few years now and … things have gone downhill since Rafa and I split up.’

‘It wasn’t a vintage year for you, was it?’

‘I don’t care about him any more, the git,’ Scarlett said defiantly, although Ellie guessed it was largely bravado. ‘But I do care about my business. I was hoping to start working for another big client but they’ve decided they’re cutting back because of “Brexit-related uncertainties” so that’s not going to happen.’

‘Oh no, I’m sorry, lovely,’ Ellie sympathised. Scarlett sounded pretty down.

She heaved a sigh. ‘I should know by now that these ups and downs come with the territory of being your own boss.’

‘You’ll make it up. You’re a brilliant copywriter. I know you can do it. You’ve had a few setbacks lately so no wonder you feel battered and bruised.’

There was a pause. ‘Yes, you’re right, as usual … after Rafa and then Christmas I haven’t trusted my judgement on all kinds of stuff. Men, people in general, and even looking for new work. My judgement feels skewed, as if I’m off kilter with the world a bit. Does that sound stupid?’

‘Of course not, lovely. What happened would shake anyone’s confidence, but you have to believe that you’re still the same old Scarlett we know and love.’

‘That’s just it … the old Scarlett might not be enough …’

Ellie wanted to reach down the phone to hug her sister.

‘But,’ Scarlett’s voice brightened. ‘I do have one piece of good news on the work front. A rival screw manufacturer outside Exeter wants me to take on all their copywriting now I don’t have a conflict of interest. They can’t give me quite as much work as Rafa’s company did, but it’s too good an opportunity to turn down because let’s face it, I do know a lot about screws. Of course, it’s a long way from Brum but then I started thinking … Exeter … that’s not too far from Ellie.’

Actually, thought Ellie, while admiring Scarlett’s optimism, it was over a hundred miles away, but she didn’t want to burst her sister’s bubble.

‘And my shitty landlord’s hiked the rent on the flat just when I’ve taken a hit in revenue so I thought … 99 per cent of my work is done online from home and I can work for a couple of my existing clients anywhere. I can visit Eurofasteners from Cornwall when I need to. Then I also heard that one of my PR clients needs someone to write a customer magazine for a Cornish fashion company and so I said I was probably moving down here, which was a mad idea but I need to grab any chance I can these days while I have the nerve and it would be much more inspiring to write about clothes than screws all the time …’

‘I get that,’ Ellie said, still processing how to respond without deflating Scarlett’s optimistic mood.

‘Obviously, I won’t earn as much as I did, but enough to contribute to all the household expenses and get by. The whole thing with Rafa last year and then the rent hike, well, they seem like omens to take a leap of faith rather than wallowing here.’

Omens, eh? Ellie marvelled at her sister’s ability to rationalise. What had actually happened was that Scarlett had consciously – or otherwise – found two new clients that she could work for while living in Cornwall.

‘Hun, if it’s any consolation, I never really thought Rafa deserved you and, genuinely, you’re better off without him.’

‘Really? You never said that to me before.’

‘How could I when you were so down about the split? Now you’ve told me yourself that you’re over him, I may as well say what I think. He was way too full of himself and you’re far too good for him, but that’s history now. And I have no problem with you coming down here and I totally understand that you want to make a fresh start, but you’re forgetting one thing. Mum and Dad might not keep Seaholly Manor for long.’

‘I know that, so I called Dad earlier – I’m not asking Mum! – and asked if they had any immediate plans to sell, but he said neither of them had discussed it … Mind you I don’t think they talk much at all these days.’

‘I’m sorry, hun.’

‘Yeah, well. Dad said it would take months or even years to sell the place even if they did decide to get rid of it, so he reckoned I should go ahead. Between us, I think Mum’s hoping Dad will simply forget what’s happened, but he won’t and neither can I.’

Ellie heard the break in Scarlett’s voice. Even with Scarlett only a few miles from her parents, it sounded as if there was no prospect of reconciliation on the horizon. ‘I must admit it’s not looking hopeful if they still have separate rooms after this long,’ she said, deciding to be honest. ‘I spoke to Dad last weekend and when I tried to ask how things were going, he almost bit my head off.’

‘Did he say anything about a divorce to you?’

‘I never got that far. I only tried to suggest gently they go see Relate and he told me to mind my own business and that he and Mum would sort it out on their own. Marcus tried to hint to them to have counselling too, and got the same response.’

‘He said the same to me when I met him for coffee last week. He also told me that he doesn’t blame me for the test. He was still Dad, but somehow, I can’t help feeling that he’s taken a step away from me. There’s a distance between us that wasn’t there before.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true!’ Ellie was horrified at the thought of a growing rift between Scarlett and their father and hoped her sister was reading the situation wrong.

‘He said it didn’t matter who my biological father was, that I’m his daughter in every way that matters and that it was only a terrible accident that he’d found out, but when he kissed me goodbye, it was so quick, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.’

‘I’m sure Dad would never push you away and he’s right; it isn’t your fault,’ Ellie said gently, yet she felt cold at the idea that their father might possibly be distancing himself from Scarlett, even subconsciously.

‘But it’s so strange looking at him now and knowing we have no actual connection, not genetically or even legally. He said he’d changed his will so that I’ll inherit the estate equally with all of you. That was awful to hear, even if he meant it well. Just hearing him say it felt so weird. He didn’t need to even tell me; it seemed such a formal thing to say.’

‘Don’t overthink it, hun. Of course, he loves you the same as he always did. You must believe that,’ Ellie said, tiptoeing on eggshells.

‘I suppose so, but I can’t help wondering if it must have changed the way he sees me. Mum hasn’t forgiven me for stirring things up, even if she is wrong. Whenever I’m around, she’s so tight and closed – we both are – and I do feel angry with her.’

‘Mum will have to accept that. If she’s being awkward with you, it’s because she must feel guilty. Has she given you any clue at all who …?’ In the nick of time, Ellie slammed the brakes on her next phrase. There was no way she was going to refer to any other man but her own father as Scarlett’s dad. ‘Who he might be?’

‘She won’t even admit to me or Dad that she had an affair, not even after the other tests we did.’

‘It must be driving you mad. I love her, but it would be better if she told Dad the truth. Better for everyone, especially you, and if she did own up, perhaps they could start to move on. Of course you can come down here, as long as you know that one day in the not-too-distant future, we might have to leave again.’

‘I know that, and if they do split up – and maybe they won’t – I’ll have to make other plans. Maybe if you want to stay in Porthmellow we can get a flat or a house together. If we keep saving up what we’d have had to fork out in rent, that would help. If you are staying, of course.’ Scarlett’s voice lifted hopefully.

It was happening again – temptation was being put in her way. The house, Aaron, the community and now Scarlett luring her to linger. Maybe Scarlett was right. This was an omen – a series of omens – that meant she should stay in Porthmellow.

‘I don’t know what my long-term plans are. I do like it here and I must admit that I’m very tempted to stay. I’d love to have you … as long as being in Porthmellow again doesn’t stir up unhappy memories.’

Scarlett huffed. ‘I won’t be going into that pub again, that’s for sure, and it’ll be awkward to even be around the town to start with, but I thought I could see how things go and try to keep a low profile.’

‘OK.’ Ellie shook her head, a smile on her face. ‘When are you thinking of coming?’

‘Um. Two weeks’ time?’

‘Two weeks?’

‘Actually, less than two weeks. I plan on coming down a week on Thursday. Is that OK? One of the neighbours has offered to bring some of my stuff down in his van when he visits his boyfriend in St Ives the following weekend. I can manage with what I can fit in my car until then.’

Bloody hell, Scarlett really did have everything worked out. She must have been thinking this over for a while. ‘Yes … it’s slightly short notice, but why not? Let me know what I can do to help.’

Ellie spent a while making more arrangements and then put down the phone. She went into the kitchen to cook some supper, realising that she was now starving. Even after a day at the café, she found it relaxing to slice a few mushrooms, grate some Gruyère and whip up an omelette.

While she chopped and cooked, her mind worked overtime on the latest surprise this day had delivered. Having her sister around would be different. It could be a lot of fun but it would also cause disruption. She’d become used to her own company, and she and Scarlett did argue sometimes, but Scarlett was obviously hell bent on this plan. Ellie had been reminded of how much her sister had been affected by the revelations on Christmas Day. Finding out her father wasn’t her biological dad must have left an enormous hole in her life, and their mother’s continued state of denial and unspoken anger with her daughter wasn’t helping at all. In one fell swoop, Scarlett had lost both parents to some degree. This change in lifestyle might be her way of getting through it.

And all of this happened just after the split with her boyfriend and the loss of her core client. It was no wonder Scarlett felt her world had been turned upside down. Whether moving almost three hundred miles to a new home that might only be temporary was a good idea, Ellie wasn’t sure.

There was something else. Scarlett had listed her reasons for moving as if it was the most rational decision in the world, but Ellie had a powerful feeling that she hadn’t heard the full story yet. And as for ‘keeping a low profile’ after her dramatic entrance at the Christmas lunch … in a place like Porthmellow, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance of that.

Chapter Four

‘Hello! How was the journey? I was worried you might be held up by the road works on the motorway.’

Scarlett’s spirits lifted as Ellie met her on the drive of Seaholly Manor. It had been a long journey but Ellie’s welcoming smile more than made up for it.

‘It was OK until the mist came down. Look at it. It’s like something out of the Hound of the Baskervilles!’ Scarlett tried to make out the house through the October mist, which hung in wispy threads among the tree branches and seemed to press on the roof of the manor. Although it wasn’t as sharply cold as it was in the Midlands, the damp clung to everything, leaving pinpricks of moisture on her teddy coat.

‘It’s a real pea-souper that rolled in after lunch. I don’t think it will clear until morning,’ Ellie said.

A shiver ran through Scarlett, and not for the first time since she’d handed back the keys to her flat and said goodbye to the neighbours. She’d shed a few tears as she’d driven out of the city suburbs, past her favourite balti restaurant where the owners didn’t even need to take her order they knew her so well. She would miss the Victorian swimming ‘baths’ where she ploughed up and down twice a week and the park where she met up with her friends for a coffee in winter and a picnic in summer.

Seaholly Manor was isolated, and so far from her parents and Marcus. With dusk approaching on a gloomy autumn evening, she was half-tempted to turn the car around and head back to the bright lights of Brum.

Oh God, what had she done?

As if reading her thoughts, Ellie gave her a hug. ‘Come inside. I lit the fire in the sitting room as soon as I got in from work, and the kitchen will be nice and cosy too.’

Scarlett dragged up a smile. The lamplight glowed from the window of the sitting room. That was cheery at least.

‘Is your car fixed, by the way?’ she asked.

‘Oh, it’s er … at the garage in town. We’re waiting for a part.’

‘What a pain. How do you get to work?’

‘I walked over the coast path. The fog wasn’t as bad then, though I definitely wouldn’t try that path in this murk. Come on, I’ll give you a hand with your stuff.’

After abandoning Scarlett’s luggage in the hallway, they sat at the kitchen’s oak farmhouse table. The warmth from the Aga enveloped Scarlett and sparked another memory: of last Christmas Day when she’d stepped into the Smuggler’s Tavern’s Lunch for the Lonely.

However, with Ellie chattering away about the latest local gossip while she made them both hot chocolates, she soon perked up. She had to face the locals again sometime and it wasn’t as if the people at the pub hadn’t been friendly. In fact, they’d been too friendly. Which could be both a good and bad thing. Good for finding out gossip about her real father; bad for stopping it from spreading.

Scarlett had always prided herself on being honest with Ellie, so she felt doubly guilty about being economical with the truth this time.

Yes, the lease was up on her flat. Yes, she was struggling with the rent and, yes, she did want to make a fresh start. What she’d left out was the part about how she’d discovered that her ‘biological father’ was – possibly – from Porthmellow and she desperately wanted to know who he was.

His identity had occupied her thoughts since last Christmas and she’d been listening out for any clue from her mother, not that her mum had even admitted she might have had an affair. Scarlett had worked out when she must have been conceived, and from old photos in a family album had pieced together that her mother had been staying with Auntie Joan during that time. So the ‘deed’ was very likely to have taken place in Porthmellow.

Plus, there was another, more compelling clue to her origins. When she, Ellie and their mother had been sorting through Joan’s stuff, Scarlett had found a postcard with a message that had struck her as weird. It hadn’t meant that much at the time, but had taken on much greater significance since, and Scarlett couldn’t recall the exact words. She’d meant to show it to her mum at the time, however, in the chaos of sorting out her auntie’s vast collection of books and papers, she’d forgotten about it. Of course, she could be clutching at straws and probably was, but once the idea that the postcard might be related to her mum’s affair had formed in her mind, she couldn’t get rid of it.

She lay awake at night, trying to envisage what her biological father might look like. What kind of a man was he? Not the most upright kind, if he’d had an affair with a married woman … unless he hadn’t even known her mother was married? Had it been a full-blown affair, or only a one-night stand? Did he have a family of his own now, or even then?

If he did, that meant she would have half-siblings she didn’t even know about. In fact, it was more than likely she did.

The questions constantly pecked at her mind. Was he short, tall, fat, skinny? Did he even look that much like her? Despite having half of his DNA, she could easily resemble her mother with very little trace of her father.

Was he even alive? Scarlett had asked herself that one many times, but hated to think of it. It made her go icy, because that meant she would never know him at all.

Perhaps that’s why her mother refused to say who he was, or even admit what she’d done – because she knew the man was dead, and there was no point trying to find him? Or if he was alive, her mother might be protecting him and his family because he was someone they knew …

Night after night, she’d tormented herself with all these questions, and no matter how hard she tried to accept that she might never know, she found it impossible.

In her calmer moments, she had considered her mother’s feelings, even if she’d never told her that. What had it been like to keep this secret all these years? If, of course, her mother had even known that the mystery man was her father … she might have assumed that Roger Latham really was Scarlett’s dad.

Despite trying to put herself in her mother’s shoes, as Ellie had suggested, Scarlett was finding it hard to accept Anna’s complete denial of the facts. No amount of persuasion or pleading from Scarlett in private would tempt her to say anything. However, Scarlett had seized on the idea that her dad might be Cornish, and that, combined with her troubles with Rafa and loss of business, had helped her decide to make the move to Porthmellow.

Ellie, bless her, hadn’t hesitated – OK, only a teeny bit – to say she could share Seaholly Manor with her. Scarlett knew she would have to come clean at some stage but until – and unless – she knew her hunches were right, she didn’t see much point in stirring up more trouble.

‘Here you go. Come on, let’s have these in front of the fire.’ Ellie handed Scarlett a steaming mug topped with a whirl of clotted cream and cinnamon. Scarlett took them into the sitting room where the flames glowed in the hearth and a tang of woodsmoke hung in the air. Ellie followed soon after with a plate of mince pies.

‘Not too soon, is it? Honestly, people would eat them year-round if we made them. We had some left at the café so I took them home. It’s definitely not too early for the customers but the damp and fog kept many people indoors today.’

Scarlett took one of the sugar-dusted pies. ‘It’s never too soon for a mince pie.’

Once she’d finished her mince pie and unwound a little, Ellie helped her take her bags upstairs.

‘I put you in Auntie Joan’s old room. I hope that was OK?’ Ellie said. ‘It’s the biggest and it’s had a new bed and a bit of a makeover since she passed, but some of her stuff is still here. It won’t upset you, will it?’

‘Of course not. I love being surrounded by her treasures. I’m glad Mum and Dad decided to keep her dressing table set and knick-knacks. Are you sure you don’t mind? Don’t you want the biggest room?’

‘They’re all pretty spacious and mine is closest to the bathroom. You can even get a glimpse of the sea on a clear day,’ Ellie said.

‘I don’t feel so bad, in that case.’

‘I’ll leave you to unpack while I put some dinner on.’

‘I don’t want you waiting on me hand and foot,’ said Scarlett.

Ellie put on a stern face, which funnily enough reminded Scarlett a hell of a lot of Auntie Joan – minus the perm and pearls of course. ‘Actually, after tonight I was hoping you’d be waiting on me. You’ll be wishing you were Cinderella when I give you the household rota.’

‘Better enjoy tonight while I can, then,’ Scarlett said with a smile, thinking how happy her sister seemed. Living in Porthmellow really suited her.

‘Better had.’

The stairs creaked as Ellie jogged back downstairs. Hearing the clang of pots and pans and Ellie humming in the kitchen below, Scarlett drew the curtains and sat down on the bed. Her pulse quickened as she looked around the room. Auntie Joan’s dressing table was a 1950s mahogany affair and Scarlett knew that its drawers held treasured reminders of her. Joan had been her mother’s auntie, so Anna had been in charge of deciding which possessions to keep or give away. Most of the book collection was downstairs in the floor-to-ceiling fitted bookcases that lined Joan’s study, but a few were kept here in Joan’s bedroom in an alcove full of shelves.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlett crossed to the shelves and scanned them. Inside one of these books was the postcard that she’d been waiting to examine ever since they’d sorted through them the previous summer.

Although she couldn’t remember the exact inscription, she knew it had something to do with a ‘special night’ or a ‘memorable night’ and had been addressed to her mother, with love and kisses at the end. It was definitely more than a friendly card, or she’d thought so at the time. However, even though the card had struck her as odd, she’d dismissed it from her mind until her parentage had been called into question.

Whilst hunting for it felt disloyal to her dad, who she loved dearly, she couldn’t let the chance to know about her roots pass her by. There was a yawning chasm in her life story that no amount of reassurance or denial could fill. She couldn’t rest until she’d found the truth and now that she had an opportunity, she was filled with nervous excitement and dread.

She tried to calm down. She was searching for a book with a distinctive cover of painted seashells and a starfish. She ran her finger over the shelves, looking for the slim volume. Treasures of the Cornish Seashore. Or something like that.

It had been on the bottom shelf, if she remembered rightly, when they were sorting out Joan’s things. A faded softback from the 1970s with the postcard of St Ives inserted – hidden? – in the centre.

She gave the bottom shelf a closer inspection, sure she must have missed the book, but still couldn’t locate it. Frowning, she checked the middle and top shelves; the alcove was narrow so it wasn’t likely she’d missed it, but she was tired after the drive … On her third careful pass over every spine, she had to admit defeat. Damn, she wanted to pull out every book just to make sure. Had she completely misremembered the title? There were guides to flowers and birds and rocks and minerals, but no treasures of the seashore.

The book definitely wasn’t on the same shelf as before.

She felt completely deflated, and had to remind herself that she hadn’t moved all this way only to track down a postcard.

She was about to double check all the shelves again when she heard the front door open and Ellie’s voice.

‘Hi! It’s horrible outside. Come in, quick.’

Scarlett crossed to the bedroom door, which was open a little way. She put her ear to the gap, intrigued by the fevered edge of excitement in Ellie’s voice. Ellie laughed and then the front door closed and a man’s voice could be heard.

‘I saw the car. I’m not stopping, because you have visitors, but I wanted to say that I’ve finally got hold of the new door panel for your car.’

Scarlett listened even harder. Wow. Ellie and her mystery man both sounded like dogs with two tails. They were obviously very happy to be in each other’s company.

‘Scarlett!’

At the sound of footsteps trotting upstairs, Scarlett shot back towards the bed and unzipped her bag.

‘Are you decent?’ Ellie asked at the door.

‘Course I am. Just unpacking. Come in.’ Scarlett pulled out some stuff and tossed it on the bed.

Ellie stepped inside.

‘Aaron’s here. He popped in to update me on my car. He lives down by the cove. He can’t stay long but do you want to say hello?’ Ellie lowered her voice. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not one of the lonely lunch people. In fact, he’s almost as new to Porthmellow as you, and I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet someone who isn’t part of the establishment.’

‘Sounds like a good idea. I’d love to meet him.’ Scarlett gave Ellie a knowing look. ‘Aaron, you say?’

‘Yes. He’s Troy and Evie’s son. They were at the pub on Christmas Day, actually, but don’t let that bother you.’

‘I look a bit of a mess after the journey,’ Scarlett said, indicating her old jeggings and hoodie.

‘Oh, Aaron won’t care. That doesn’t matter. We’re all casual round here, you know that.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘Besides, doesn’t look as if you got very far with the unpacking.’

‘No, I only just started. To be honest, I was knackered and lay on the bed and chilled out,’ Scarlett said, feeling guilty for fibbing to her sister. ‘There’s loads of time for sorting my stuff tomorrow.’

‘True. Do you want to stay up here and chill out, then?’ Was that a hint of disappointment in Ellie’s voice, or did she want to be alone with this new guy?

Scarlett decided she wanted to see him, anyway. ‘No way. I’d love to meet the new neighbour.’

Ellie beamed. ‘Come on then, let’s unleash you on Aaron.’

Whatever Scarlett had been expecting from Aaron, she wasn’t prepared for the gladiator of a man sprawled over the love seat in the sitting room. He looked perfectly at ease there, as if he’d been in the house numerous times before. So, thought Scarlett with secret amusement, not such a ‘new guy’ after all, and yet Ellie had never mentioned him.

‘This is my sister, Scarlett.’

‘Hi. I’m Aaron, Ellie’s wicked new neighbour,’ he said, eyes glinting mischievously. ‘Your sister thought I was a serial killer when we first met on the lane in the dark because my Transit has no windows.’

‘I wish I hadn’t told you that!’ Ellie burst out. ‘Anyway, I thought you were a kidnapper or a burglar, rather than a serial killer.’

‘Scarlett,’ Scarlett said, holding out her hand and laughing. ‘Ellie’s wicked younger sister. It’s my fault she thinks anyone with a van with no windows is a kidnapper. Just one of my little jokes,’ she added quickly in case Aaron thought she’d once been abducted herself.

With a grin, he shook her hand firmly but briefly and sat down again. ‘To be fair, no one had told Ellie that I was moving into Cove Cottage. I only decided myself a couple of weeks before.’

‘Me too,’ Scarlett said.

‘Ellie did warn me you were moving down here.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘Brave.’

‘Really?’ Scarlett asked. ‘Why’s that?’

‘The locals.’

She smiled. ‘Are they that scary?’

‘Some …’ he laughed. ‘I was born and brought up in Porthmellow myself until I joined the army. I’m a vehicle engineer.’

‘Ah. So you’ve been helping Ellie with her car,’ Scarlett said innocently.

‘Trying to. It’s been in a mate’s lock-up in town for almost two weeks but I finally got the part last night. Should have it back on the road tomorrow.’

‘That will save you from giving me a lift into town,’ said Ellie.

‘It’s been no trouble. I have to go up and down to town most days anyway – which reminds me, will you be going to the festival planning meeting next week?’

Ellie nodded.

‘Mum and Dad have roped me in to help with the Solstice Festival,’ Aaron said, exchanging a glance with her. ‘They’ve been on the main committee from the start so I can’t say no.’

‘What’s the Solstice Festival?’ Scarlett asked.

‘It’s a Christmas festival mashed up with old Cornish pagan traditions. First time we’ve had one in Porthmellow,’ Ellie explained.

‘Sounds like fun,’ said Scarlett.

‘It should be. It’s meant to be a quirky celebration of the passing of the shortest day. The sailing trust did tours of our new boat at the summer food festival and it went so well, we’re going to repeat it at the solstice event and decorate it with fairy lights and dress up as pirates. You’ll have to come aboard and have a tour.’ She directed this at Aaron.

He held Ellie’s gaze a millisecond too long. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

Scarlett narrowly avoided blurting out that they should get a room. Ellie was transfixed, her eyes lighting up, and Aaron seemed equally mesmerised. Wow, so Scarlett had walked in on a blossoming romance between her sister and this admittedly sexy hunk of a bloke. Ellie wouldn’t be thanking her for cramping her style. Maybe they were already sleeping together and now she’d be in hearing distance of it all. Ouch.

He turned his attention to Scarlett, perhaps realising that he’d been ignoring her in favour of Ellie. ‘Do you know my mum and dad? They’re Porthmellow stalwarts. Born and brought up here; lived here all their lives. My dad, Troy, still helps out the harbour commission and he always wears a fisherman’s cap. My mum, Evie, has recently had her knee replaced so she has a pink walking stick.’

‘Scarlett hasn’t been down to Porthmellow since last Christmas,’ Ellie put in hastily.

‘OK. Sorry, I tend to assume everyone knows my mum and dad.’

But the penny was dropping for Scarlett. The elderly man in the fisherman’s hat and the lady leaning on a stick. Troy and Evie. Of course. Even though Scarlett had been in a terrible state and half-frozen, the names of the people at the Smuggler’s Christmas lunch were imprinted on her mind. She realised she’d have to see them sooner or later. Everyone, especially the Carmans, had been so kind to her. Once she’d warmed up, the pub landlady had called Ellie who’d arrived with a coat and warm clothes to escort her home. Scarlett had apologised profusely and said there had been a bit of family tension, which combined with too much fizz on an empty stomach had led to her needing some space.

‘Actually, I think I might have come across them,’ she replied.

‘I doubt you’d forget them. They’re a real pair of characters.’

Scarlett smiled politely. ‘I’m sure I’ll get to know them better now I’ve moved in here.’

‘Do you plan on staying long?’

‘As long as Ellie will have me.’ Scarlett didn’t want to commit Ellie to anything in front of Aaron. If her hunch was right, Ellie fancied him like mad, but that might be as far as the attraction went. Ellie could only have known him for two weeks anyway. ‘What about you?’ she asked, figuring this was a good opportunity to ask about his plans on her sister’s behalf.

‘A few months at least. More, possibly. I’m trying to see if I can set up a security business with a friend from the army. We have a couple of private clients down here and a contract for several events already, starting with the festival.’

Scarlett laughed. ‘Expecting trouble, are you?’

‘Oh, I’m sure the seagulls can kick off big style.’ He grinned. ‘But security is something the organisers have to take very seriously, even though it’s not usually a problem. Mum and Dad have said that they’re not expecting it to be anywhere near as big as the summer food festival so my team probably won’t have much to do.’

‘Even so, it might be more work than you think,’ Ellie said.

‘Yes, and my parents will make sure I don’t slack.’ He glanced at his watch, a chunky rubber affair with a tonne of dials. ‘I’d better go. I’ve got a meeting with a potential client this evening. Maybe we’ll see you both down the Tinners’ tomorrow? A bunch of us are meeting up there for a few drinks. Could be a great way for Scarlett to meet the locals?’

‘Sounds good,’ Ellie said, adding, ‘if it’s OK with Scarlett?’

Scarlett nodded. Even though she wasn’t hugely looking forward to meeting the Christmas Day lunch gang again, she didn’t want Ellie to miss out on the chance of seeing Aaron, even if it was in a group. ‘Sure. I’ll drive if you like, Ellie.’

‘If you don’t mind.’

‘No problem.’

‘Great. Sorted.’ Aaron got up and Scarlett decided to make herself scarce while they said goodbye.

‘I ought to finish my unpacking. Nice to meet you, Aaron. See you tomorrow night.’ With a smile, she headed for the stairs, intent on leaving Ellie to see him off the premises. She caught a snatch of Aaron saying something she couldn’t quite make out and Ellie replying, ‘Oh, I promise to let you know if either of us need you.’

Scarlett closed her bedroom door to give them some privacy. Nevertheless, while she unpacked her clothes, she could still hear laughter and the rise and fall of animated voices for a few minutes until the front door shut again.

Ellie obviously had a tank-sized crush on the guy and Scarlett didn’t blame her. But even if her sister hadn’t fancied him, she wouldn’t have dreamed of going after Aaron. She had enough on her plate looking after her new customers, and trying to build up the business.

She had another moment of misgiving, wondering if she should have come to Seaholly at all. The vanishing postcard and arrival of Aaron had been a sobering wake-up call. She’d been so wrapped up in her own insecurities since last Christmas, it had blinded her to her family’s worries. She should have thought more carefully before landing on Ellie, but now she was here, she had to make the best of things while trying not to disrupt her sister’s life. Scarlett was sure that the clue to her heritage lay in Porthmellow and she could still look for her father without the postcard, though it was going to be a whole lot harder. It could have been thrown out, of course, or her mum might have moved it.

On the upside, perhaps some of the older locals who’d known Joan might remember her parents visiting – particularly her mother. The pub might be a great place to start her quest to find out more about her father.

Chapter Five

The Tinners’ Arms was the newer of Porthmellow’s two pubs; new being only two hundred years old rather than four. The solid granite tavern, built for workers in the nearby mines, was situated on the opposite side of the harbour to the whitewashed Smuggler’s Tavern, the scene of Scarlett’s Christmas Day meltdown. Like its ‘rival’, it was one of the main social hubs of the town and even on a dark October evening, was surprisingly busy with locals.

‘Oh, look. The festival committee is in here. You can meet everyone all at once,’ Ellie said as they walked inside.

‘What?’ Scarlett followed Ellie’s gaze with a sinking feeling. The group of people squashed around tables by the fire turned their collective gaze on her and an unpleasant memory flooded back. ‘Oh my God, no. Aaron didn’t mention they’d all be in here. There’s loads of them.’

She tried to turn around, but Ellie was right behind her.

‘Don’t worry,’ she soothed, ushering Scarlett further into the dim interior. ‘It’s only Sam Lovell and her sister, Zennor, and her fiancé, Ben. They’re all lovely. So’s Drew, my boss, and his partner, Chloe.’

‘Oh, so not many people then!’ Scarlett whispered as they queued at the bar. ‘And you forgot the elf man!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That guy. The tall one with the surf-dude hair. He was in the pub when I rocked up on Christmas Day, along with Sam and Evie and her husband. They all were.’

Ellie gave their drinks order before replying. ‘So?’

‘So? Have you forgotten I was wearing a pair of bunny slippers and acting like a crazed escapee from a maximum-security institution? This is a terrible idea. The elf man covered me in his fleece … like a pensioner or a poorly hamster.’ Scarlett stifled a groan of shame.

Ellie glanced again at the elf man. ‘Oh, you must mean Jude Penberth? He’s not a surfer, as far as I know, but it’s just like him to help you out. He’s lovely, and as I’ve said before a dozen times, there’s no shame in having asked for help. They know you were very upset. They won’t judge you. Sam’s had problems of her own.’

‘Really? Like finding out her father isn’t her dad after all and running off to a bunch of strangers in her slippers?’

‘Much worse,’ Ellie said quietly. ‘Sam’s father left the family when she was little. Then her mother died, leaving Sam to look after Zen and her brother, Ryan. Ryan tried to rob some of the villagers and did a runner for over a decade. He’s back now, though, and if he can come home to Porthmellow, I’m sure you can. It’s not as if you did anything wrong.’

Scarlett looked at Sam and winced. ‘Well, I suppose if you put it like that … mind you, I feel even worse now for making such a fuss.’

‘It was a shock.’

Ellie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh my, Gabe Mathias is here too. We’re definitely not leaving.’

‘Gabe Mathias? What? The Gabe Mathias, the TV chef?’

‘Yes, he’s Sam’s partner.’

Scarlett saw a tall, tanned and very handsome man rejoin the group of committee members.

Ellie handed her a glass of Pinot Grigio. ‘Come on, you know you’d love to meet him. He’s a sweetheart, too.’

‘Everybody seems to be in this town.’ Scarlett sipped her wine sedately, determined to show she could be restrained around alcohol.

‘Er, not quite. But this bunch are all right. All you need to do is smile and say hello. Everyone knows you’re sane normally.’

Scarlett almost choked on her wine. ‘Thanks!’

Despite her misgivings, she decided that she’d better get the introductions over with. Fixing a smile on her face, she followed Ellie. This was going to be like taking a plunge into an unheated pool and Scarlett decided it was best to dive straight in, live with the pain and get used to it. It was better than bumping into each person individually over the next few weeks and having to go through the whole excruciating, ‘Yes, it was me,’ ‘Yes, I’m fine now,’ ‘Thanks for being so kind,’ over and over again. More importantly, if she wanted to have a chance of discovering some clues to her biological father’s identity, she was going to have to bite the bullet and swallow her pride.

The gang around the table was an eclectic mix. Sitting next to Troy and Evie Carman were Ben and Zennor, a gawky young couple in goth make-up, matching purple hair and biker leathers who were intertwined like vines. You couldn’t slot a beer mat between the festival chairperson Sam Lovell and Gabriel Mathias, whose arm was draped around her shoulder. At the end of the booth, Scarlett recognised a ponytailed older guy as Drew, Ellie’s boss from the sailing trust, and his partner, Chloe, whom Ellie had said was a London events organiser. Apparently, she was over fifty, but Scarlett thought she looked at least ten years younger.

Then there was the elf man, perched on a barstool, minus his hat of course, his tousled blond hair brushing his shoulders. She was determined to act naturally and do everything she could to prove she wasn’t always as weird as this lot must think she was.

‘Oh look, there’s Aaron.’ She pointed to the man carrying a tray of drinks from the bar to the committee table. Ellie’s eyes lit up. Aaron mouthed hello and nodded to the group, signalling that she and Ellie should join everyone.

‘Come on.’ Ellie led the way and all heads turned in their direction.

Aaron put the tray on the table. ‘I’ve invited Ellie and her sister to meet everyone. If we’re nice to Scarlett, I thought we might have another new recruit for the festival team.’

‘Um. I’m not sure I’d be of any use …’ Scarlett began, trying not to live up to her name as she came face to face with her rescuers.

People smiled and nods were exchanged. ‘Hello, Ellie. Hi, Scarlett.’ The chorus of greetings was warm and friendly.

Troy, wearing his cap minus the tinsel, peered at her. ‘Eh. You’re the maid who wandered into the pub on Christmas Day. We were proper worried about you until Ellie came to take you home.’

His wife nudged him. ‘Troy. That was ages ago, she won’t want to be reminded of that tonight. She was just having one of those days. We all do.’

Evie was spot on. Scarlett summoned up the biggest grin she could find. ‘I’m fine now and you’ll be pleased to know I’m not wearing my bunny slippers.’

Everyone burst out laughing.

Troy chuckled. ‘Pleased to see you have a sense of humour, maid. It’ll stand you in good stead around here. Jude, stand up and give one of these ladies a seat.’

‘No need, because we have to go soon.’ Drew pulled out his chair.

‘It’s nothing personal. We promised to babysit my granddaughter,’ Chloe said. ‘Hopefully we’ll see you again soon, if you’ve moved into Porthmellow?’

‘I’m sure you will,’ Scarlett replied, keen not to wash any more of her dirty linen in public.

Sam and Gabe began to chat to her. Sam was funny and kind, and being close to Gabe Mathias was no hardship, as he was even more gorgeous in the flesh than on the TV. Wait until her friends back in Brum heard about it … when she eventually returned there – if she did. Looking around the pub, surrounded by strangers – apart from her sister – she had a panicky moment. She hadn’t really thought of any plans beyond moving in with Ellie and hunting for her real father. It was ironic that before the momentous events of the previous Christmas, she’d been the queen of forward planning. The revelation about her parentage had changed that, and perhaps made her live for the moment more. Soon, the talk turned to the festival and Scarlett was very happy to have the focus shift away from her.

As Aaron had briefly outlined, the event was to be a joint Christmas and solstice festival, which brought together the traditional and pagan elements of the season, celebrating the passing of the shortest day and the festivities to come. It was scheduled for the night of the twenty-first and Scarlett was surprised to hear that several thousand people were expected. She loved visiting the German Christmas market in her home city, and though this event was on a toy-town scale compared to that, it sounded charming. There would be street entertainers, a solstice parade with people in fancy dress led by fire-eaters. The town band would be playing festive music and stalls would sell gifts and seasonal food. Gabe was doing a cookery demo of festive grub.

‘We’re always looking for more volunteers,’ Evie said. ‘If you wanted to help.’

Troy tutted. ‘Eh, don’t rope the girl in. We’ve only just met her.’

‘It’s OK. I’m not sure how I can help, but I’ll be happy to lend a hand if you like.’ Scarlett decided that this was another way to show she was prepared to be a good citizen. And probably also a good way to find out more about her father.

‘I’m sure we can find you something,’ Sam said. ‘When you’ve settled in, let Ellie know if you want to join in, or give one of us a call.’

A few of the younger committee members went to the bar, and Troy vanished to the loo, leaving Scarlett next to Evie, while Aaron, Jude and Ellie chatted.

Evie shuffled closer. ‘Are you feeling any better these days?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Ellie’s told me that your mum and dad are still having a few problems, not that she’s shared the details – or that it’s any of my business.’

Scarlett baulked at the open mention of their issues, however, Ellie had had to make some excuses for her behaviour the previous Christmas. Evie was so sweet and genuine that Scarlett didn’t mind too much. She was determined to be cheerful and show her festive meltdown had been a one-off, and besides, this was an opportunity to make a few enquiries of her own.

‘It’s OK, and you’re right, Mum and Dad are going through a difficult patch … um, do you know them well?’

‘Not very well. Obviously, your auntie Joan was a stalwart of the village. Such a clever lady. I loved her books.’ Evie winked. ‘She used to give me a signed copy when a new one came out, even the racy ones. Did you know about those?’

‘Joan didn’t think Ellie and I knew, but we found the copies hidden away even before she died.’

‘She was one of a kind, was Joan. So refined and ladylike but with a wicked sense of humour, and very open-minded.’

‘Hmm …’ Scarlett replied, wondering if it was an open secret that Joan had been having a relationship with her ‘handyman’. ‘We all loved her to bits and miss her a lot, especially my mum … she used to spend a lot of her time here, particularly when we were young.’

‘No wonder. Seaholly Manor is a beautiful place.’

‘Mum found it peaceful and soothing. With my dad working away such a lot, she liked to bring us here for holidays when we were little … and she used to come with Ellie before I was born.’ Scarlett felt like she was treading on wobbly stepping stones, not sure if she should venture any further. ‘Do you remember those days? Mum says they had a lot of fun.’

‘Gosh, I remember the parties, not that I went to any of the wilder ones. Me and Troy were too busy bringing up Aaron and Gemma. I was Joan’s age, so still a lot older than your mum, obviously.’

‘Wild parties?’ Scarlett gave a laugh. ‘That doesn’t sound like Auntie Joan,’ she joked, knowing her great-aunt had loved entertaining but intrigued to know what Evie meant by ‘wild’.

‘Oh, she had a few at the manor with her arty friends from London, authors and artists and such like. She’d host them and invite all and sundry from the village … I could have gone, but they weren’t Troy’s scene, as you can imagine. They went on late. Joan’s friend – Lawrence Guise, the gardener – said Joan would stay up until late but the younger ones would party ’til dawn on the beach in the summer.’

‘Sounds like a real blast.’

‘I do think some turned a bit on the lively side … you know, wacky baccy, skinny dipping and shenanigans in the dunes …’ Evie’s eyes glittered with mischief. ‘Like I say, I only heard the gossip. You should ask your mum about it all. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you more about it already.’

‘She probably didn’t want to be a bad influence on us,’ Scarlett replied, dying yet dreading to hear more of the juicy details.

Evie giggled. ‘Oh, go on. I bet you’ve done some stuff you don’t want to tell her.’

Scarlett smiled. ‘We all have to have a few secrets, don’t we?’ She tried to make it sound light-hearted, but she felt disturbed by Evie’s revelations. Had her mother been involved in some of the ‘shenanigans’?

‘I doubt very much she’d have been involved, with you little ones to look after, and anyway, I don’t think Joan had that many really rowdy dos after the seventies. She was growing out of all that herself.’

Troy arrived back from the gents.

‘Sorry I’ve been a while. Pickled herrings for lunch. I love ’em but they play havoc with my digestion.’

‘That’s way too much information, Troy!’ Evie cried. ‘I think we should be getting home. My knee’s stiff. I had a new one in the summer,’ she told Scarlett. ‘Come on, you old devil. Take me home.’

Ben and Zennor left the pub along with Troy and Evie, and shortly after, Sam and Gabe finished their drinks and went home too, which left Ellie and Scarlett alone with Aaron and Jude.

Scarlett wasn’t sure how much she’d really learned about her mother’s past other than that Joan’s parties were even ‘wilder’ than she’d imagined, by the sound of them. Short of asking Evie straight out if she’d known if her mum had shagged anybody local, she couldn’t see how she was going to get that much further forward.

With the departure of some of the others, Jude had moved from the stool to the bench seat next to her. While Ellie and Aaron chatted away like old mates, Jude was much quieter. Scarlett had only met him once before and the previous occasion had hardly been conducive to small talk.

Scarlett was gradually adjusting to seeing him minus his ears and thinking of him as an ordinary bloke rather than the elf man who’d rescued her. However, ‘ordinary’ perhaps wasn’t quite the word for him. His hair was thick and bleached into many shades of blond by the sun, but his eyes were his most striking feature by far. They were green, but not some common or garden hazel colour but actual green flecked with amber. So maybe he was one of the elf people after all. Scarlett stopped herself from laughing just in time …

‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

‘Why?’

‘You were away with the fairies for a moment there.’

She almost choked on her gin. He could read minds, too. She laughed. ‘Sorry, I was only thinking how strange it is to be here in Porthmellow after all that’s happened.’

He thought before replying. ‘Tonight must have been a baptism of fire. It took some guts to walk in with us lot here. Assembled Do-Gooders of Porthmellow.’ He added a gentle smile and Scarlett, expecting to be embarrassed at the reference, instead felt relieved that he’d mentioned it in a low-key and humorous way that she could live with.

‘I never thought I would come back, to be honest. And there’s nothing wrong with doing good. I just didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of it.’

‘There’s no shame in needing help. Ellie said you’d had a bit of a family crisis on Christmas morning. Please, you don’t have to tell me any more. Unless you want to, of course, but I’m guessing you’d rather forget the whole thing?’

‘Walking into the pub in my slippers, yes. Unfortunately, the other stuff is more complicated.’

‘Things always are.’ Jude had a wistful look in his eye, then he smiled. ‘Your glass is empty. Another one?’

‘I’ll have a small G&T, thanks, but let me pay. I insist.’

Jude nodded. ‘OK.’

Aaron and Ellie still had half-full glasses, so Scarlett went to the bar and returned with Jude’s half a bitter and her gin. They chatted about her job and she told him some of her plans.

‘Did Ellie tell you Zennor and Ben run a graphic design company? They might need a copywriter. It’s worth asking them. Probably only small clients, but still.’

‘Any new client would be good, but I’d feel awkward about approaching them for work when I’ve only just met them …’

‘They wouldn’t mind at all. I’m not sure they’re swamped with top copywriters like you in Porthmellow.’

Scarlett searched his face for any sign of irony but decided he was being serious. Once upon a time she’d have had no qualms about chatting up a potential new client immediately, but her foundations had been rocked in so many ways lately that she was no longer so confident. She felt she needed to get her feet under the table in Porthmellow first. ‘I’m not sure there are any top copywriters here, even now.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll definitely get in touch when I’ve settled in. Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’m sure they’d be delighted to have you.’

Jude seemed to glow with pleasure. Despite his eyes, there was nothing fey about the rest of him. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt over dark chinos and a leather bracelet with a silver clasp. He was about her age, she guessed, and striking rather than gorgeous in the way of Gabe, Aaron or Rafa. Yet Scarlett wanted to look at him, and looking at him gave her pleasure. It was silly, but she felt that he had an inner luminosity. Unless she had her gin goggles on, of course. She pushed her glass away, deciding that she was at a stage of pleasantly relaxed and didn’t want to tip over into the dangerous area of wanting to tell him her life story.

‘So, what do you do in Porthmellow?’ she asked, resisting the urge to ask if it involved casting spells.

‘Not a lot, according to some people.’ His lips tilted in a smile. ‘Actually, we have something in common, because I’m in the writing business too.’

‘Please don’t say I’m not the only copywriter in the village?’ Scarlett wasn’t joking. She couldn’t handle the competition.

‘No, I don’t write copy, although I do contribute to magazines. I write about natural history. Wildlife, plants and flowers. I’m a forager.’

‘A forager? As in picking plants to eat?’

‘Flowers, plants, wild seafood, fungi. Anything and everything you can make into a meal or drink. I run foraging and wild cookery courses and I’ve published a couple of books on the subject. I also teach part-time at the local college.’

‘Wow. You’re the first forager I’ve met. How did you get into that?’

‘I’m from Porthmellow. Mum and Dad still live here. I have a PhD in Botany and I worked for a university in London for a while but, well –’ he hesitated a little too long before continuing – ‘let’s just say I couldn’t keep away from the bright lights of Porthmellow. I must be getting old, longing for a quiet life.’

‘You don’t look that old!’ she blurted out, but immediately regretted the personal remark. ‘Sorry!’

‘I won’t see thirty-six again,’ Jude said solemnly.

‘Still very young,’ she replied hastily, also suspecting there was more to his return than he’d admitted. She’d only just got to know him, so she certainly wasn’t going to pry. ‘So, you’re Doctor Penberth. I’m impressed,’ she said, shifting the focus to his unusual job.

‘Yes, and actually,’ he said solemnly, ‘I do prefer people to use my title unless they know me very well.’

Scarlett was floored. He hadn’t seemed pompous but perhaps she’d misread him. ‘Oh, erm … I see …’ she floundered, not sure how to react.

Suddenly his stern expression melted into a grin. ‘I’m joking. I only use the doctor thing for occasional academic stuff; conferences and so on. Jude will do fine between us.’

‘You – you …’ She dissolved into laughter, her cheeks warming at being taken in.

‘I shouldn’t have teased you. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’ She laughed. ‘I should have guessed you were joking.’

A burst of laughter from across the table caught her attention. Ellie and Aaron were very close. It seemed like they were all getting on well together.

Jude sipped his pint and replaced it on the table. ‘Um … talking of work, you might see me foraging in the grounds of the manor. Your auntie Joan was very kind and let me collect plants from the gardens, and I carried on picking them after she passed away. Ellie said it was OK to continue, unless the place is sold, obviously.’

‘There are no plans for that at the moment,’ Scarlett said. Jude was another local who seemed to have been friendly with Joan, but Scarlett had never come across him on her visits – she’d definitely have remembered him. ‘So this foraging … do it a lot, do you?’

She’d made it sound vaguely disgusting and a bubble of embarrassed laughter rose in her throat. Jude made her want to laugh and she hadn’t felt like that very often lately but she wasn’t sure he would share her sense of humour.

‘Actually, yes, I do.’ He smiled wickedly and Scarlett revised her opinion of him upwards yet again. Maybe he’d get her jokes after all. ‘You don’t mind then?’

‘Not if Ellie doesn’t. You can forage as much as you like. Not that it’s our place, anyway. As you probably know, it’s my mother who owns the manor now, but I’m sure she won’t mind either.’

‘Yes, I knew that Joan had left it to your mum.’

‘Did you know my aunt very well?’

‘Not as well as you, obviously, but I saw her at least once a week or so when I was foraging in her grounds.’

Scarlett giggled again. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I know it’s juvenile of me, but foraging is such a funny word. It sounds a bit …’

‘Pervy?’ Jude suggested, with a glint of amusement.

‘Well, kind of.’

‘It does sound weird to make a living from collecting wild food. I’m convinced that a few of the locals think I’m some kind of wizard, brewing up potions from the hedgerows, but you would be amazed by all the wonderful things you can find by the seashore, woods and even in your own backyard.’

‘I’m sure I would. Though there wasn’t much to forage in my backyard in Birmingham.’

‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.’ Jude’s glow was back. ‘You can find all sorts in parks and gardens. Birmingham’s renowned for its parklands. Like chickweed, for instance. You can find that all year round and it’s very tasty in salads or in a dip.’

‘Really? I’d no idea …’ Scarlett thought of the bare branches of oaks around the manor and the russet bracken on the moorland, wondering what there was to actually forage. ‘But are there really that many edible plants around at this time of year?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ said Jude with a smile. ‘There are still plenty of nuts and green leaves at this time of year if you know where to look, especially on the coast. I also have blackberries and bilberries in my freezer and a great stock of cherry brandy ready for the Solstice Festival. I could show you some of the things you can find around the manor, if you like, the next time I come over? Ellie too,’ he added quickly.

She hesitated. It had been a long time since she’d agreed to go out with a guy, not that hunting plants was a ‘date’, but actually, that might be exactly why she should say yes: the invitation seemed genuinely innocent. ‘OK. I’d like that. And I’m sure Ellie would,’ she tagged on hastily, though she guessed Ellie might decide she was too busy with Aaron …

Jude’s pleasure showed in his eyes. ‘Great. I’ll give you my number so we can arrange a time?’

They talked about Cornwall for a while longer, Jude’s passion for nature and his birthplace lighting up his face and his voice even more. Once or twice he mentioned his time in London but it was obvious that he’d missed his homeland during his botany PhD. When Ellie signalled that it was time to head home, Scarlett was surprised how disappointed she felt to have to go, especially when compared with the dread she’d experienced when she’d first walked in.

They got up and said their goodbyes.

‘You’ll call me, then,’ Jude repeated as she was about to leave.

‘Yes. Soon as I’ve asked Ellie.’

‘Great.’ He pushed his hair out of his eyes and Scarlett had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. There really was something extraordinary about Jude Penberth, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

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