Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in ebook format in 2019 by HarperCollinsPublishers

Copyright © Cressida McLaughlin 2019

Cover design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2019.

Cover illustration © May Van Millingen

Cressida McLaughlin 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.

Ebook Edition © June 2019 ISBN: 9780008332174

Version: 2019-06-03

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Part 4: The Icing on the Cake

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Keep Reading …

Also by Cressida McLaughlin

About the Author

About the Publisher

Part 4
The Icing on the Cake

Chapter One

‘Is the council deliberately designed like this, so you go round and round in circles and they somehow make money off all the interminable phone calls?’ Charlie Quilter resisted the urge to bash her mobile on the table. She’d been sitting in Juliette’s kitchen all morning, being pushed from one department to the next, trying to get her trading consent for The Cornish Cream Tea Bus reinstated. It was sitting forlornly on Porthgolow’s beach, a gleaming café from which, for the moment, she could not sell a single cup of tea.

‘I don’t think the council makes money from phone calls,’ Juliette said, replacing Charlie’s empty mug with a fresh cup of steaming coffee. ‘Besides, don’t you have free minutes as part of your plan?’

Charlie smiled her thanks and then rolled her eyes as the robotic voice said, for the millionth time, Please stay on the line; your call is important to us. ‘Is it, though?’ Charlie asked her phone. ‘Is it really?’

‘Tell me again what Daniel said.’ Juliette sat opposite her, cradling her mug.

Charlie sighed. ‘Why are men so bloody complicated?’

Juliette laughed, and Charlie joined in until there was a pause on the line, and she bit her lip, thinking that she might get to talk to an actual person this time. But no, it was just the tape looping. The electronic voice told her again how important she was.

‘So, Daniel,’ Charlie said, her stomach twisting when she thought of their recent encounter. ‘He told me that he didn’t shut down Gertie, despite Crystal Waters being named on the notice, then he kissed me and walked away.’

‘On the jetty, in the darkness. It sounds so romantic.’

‘Or overly dramatic, depending on how you look at it.’

‘And how do you look at it?’ Juliette asked. ‘You and Daniel have been so up and down since you got here, but I can tell you really like him. Though you’re being more cautious than you were when you met Stuart; understandably, because he turned out to be a total dickhead.’

‘And Daniel had dickhead form before I even met him.’

‘Hmmm.’ Juliette looked at the table. ‘Have you spoken to him at all since Saturday night? Any texts? Aubergine emojis?’

‘Nothing. I don’t know what to say. I mean, why was your business on there if you didn’t get my bus shut down, and what was that kiss about, and what fabric softener do you use because you smelt really great the other night doesn’t seem like a conversation you can have via text.’

‘So go and see him, then.’

Charlie let her head drop to the table, then lifted it up and rubbed her brow. ‘I will, but I can’t until I find out who was behind this. I will apologize to him if it’s all a big misunderstanding, but what if it isn’t? What if he’s making a fool of me? Again?’

‘Char, I don’t think he would be this cruel.’

‘I really hope you’re right.’ She didn’t know what she had with Daniel; she just knew that even the thought of him sent butterflies fluttering through her like she was some kind of hothouse. ‘As soon as I … oh, hello, is that the licensing department?’ she enquired as Electronic Ethel was replaced with a living, breathing human being.

‘This is waste and recycling. I can put you through to the licensing department. Please hold.’

‘Noooo,’ Charlie screamed at her phone. But it was too late. Electronic Ethel was back. Please stay on the line; your call is important to us. ‘Is it my arse,’ Charlie said, while Juliette tried very hard not to laugh.

By the time she stepped outside, into a warm day with a gusty breeze, she felt as though her ear was close to burning off. She had spoken, finally, to a young man in the licensing department. He wouldn’t tell her the name of the person who had challenged her consent, only repeated the information that had been written on the notice. But he had assured her that it was only temporary, and once she’d resubmitted the paperwork, answered their additional questions and had someone come to inspect the bus, unless anything untoward cropped up, she’d be back in business in roughly a week.

It was time-consuming and annoying, but she was prepared for that as long as it wasn’t fatal to the future of The Cornish Cream Tea Bus. She had gone online and resubmitted the paperwork electronically as soon as the call was over. Now all she had to do was wait.

It seemed that whoever had done this had simply wanted to make her life more complicated, perhaps send her some kind of warning. What it had done was fire her up. She was overflowing with determination; she felt like Superwoman.

Marmite bounded beside her as they headed to the beach. The water was choppy, the sand whipping up into miniature dust devils. The sun peeped out intermittently between clouds ranging from pure white to darkest grey, and Charlie watched as a couple of young women in wetsuits ran across the sand from a van parked in the car park, no hesitation before they plunged into the waves.

Charlie walked the length of the beach, past Gertie and up towards the car park. She craned her neck to see to the top of the cliff, where Crystal Waters sat, looking out over the village, sea and coastline to the south. She knew she should go and see Daniel, but without all the facts she felt completely unprepared.

She huffed in frustration and turned, retracing her steps across the sand, this time towards the other side of the cove. She had almost reached the jetty, her walk accompanied by the shouts of the women in the sea, when she heard her name being called. To her amazement, she saw Reenie approaching her, her slender frame clad in a flowery shirt and faded jeans, her long hair dancing in the wind.

‘Reenie, hi! What are you doing?’

‘Out of my cage, you mean?’

Charlie blustered, but the older woman grinned.

‘Recycling time again. I’ve dropped it off with Hugh, who’s usually happy to dispose of it for me. But I did want to see you, too.’

‘You did?’

Reenie narrowed her eyes. ‘I saw you and Daniel on the jetty on Saturday night. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but there was no missing the drama of the situation. I need details, especially after finding out what’s happened to your bus.’

‘You need details?’ Charlie laughed. ‘And what if I don’t want to give them to you?’

Reenie held out her hand. ‘Of course you do, girl. You might be in denial about it, but you need someone to make sense of it for you.’

Charlie hesitated, wondering if she was prepared to tell this woman everything. This woman who had a weather eye cast over the whole village and, Charlie knew, was close to Daniel.

‘If you do,’ Reenie continued, ‘then I might be able to offer a nugget or two of advice. Perhaps reveal my own secret.’

‘That you are, in fact, a mermaid?’

‘Don’t be so ludicrous. Come and have a cup of tea with me and explain why Daniel Harper kissed you and then left you alone two nights ago. And then I will tell you why I am absolutely, 100 per cent, not a mermaid.’

Charlie glanced at Marmite, who was in the process of digging a hole in the sand. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘but I draw my line about what I tell you.’

‘Of course. You are your own woman, after all.’

Charlie followed her, wondering why it didn’t feel like that was always the case.

Her line, it turned out, was very low.

With a too-milky tea on the concrete in front of her, Charlie told Reenie everything: about what had happened in the pub; about her first Cornish Cream Tea Tour, and how it had been so successful until Oliver had found her in a compromising position with Daniel. About the confrontation on the bus, and Daniel revealing Oliver’s true nature; about Josie – who was either a journalist, or from the council; about her outburst at Crystal Waters and their impassioned conversation that had ended with that kiss on the jetty.

‘None of it makes sense, Reenie. Did he shut me down, or not?’

Reenie stretched her legs out, her feet, now bare, dangling over the edge of the cliff. Charlie had thought, with it being particularly windy, she might be invited inside the house, but they were sitting in the same spot, on the edge of the world. Not that she minded; she could stare at this view all day, even if there was zero chance of seeing a mermaid.

‘Think of everything you know about him,’ Reenie said. ‘All the encounters you’ve had. All you have to do is weigh up the good and the bad and decide whether you think he’s responsible. Although I’m sure you already know the answer, deep down.’

‘It said it, in black and white, on the revoke notice. The Crystal Waters Spa Hotel.’ Charlie took a sip of her tea.

‘But situations are rarely ever black and white. If everything was so straightforward, you would never have got into a mix-up with Daniel and Oliver. You would have known how to make your bus successful from day one, and wouldn’t have had to work hard to achieve what you have. The shades of grey are where life really happens, Charlie.’

‘So you’re saying that even though his business is on the notice, someone else could be behind it? But why would anyone else want to close down my bus? Myrtle’s nephew is part of the food markets now, and I can’t imagine Rose or Frank being so proactive. Oh my God, do you think it’s Oliver?’ She almost dropped her mug. ‘That’s it! He’s pissed off that I rejected him, he doesn’t like that I’ve got feelings for Daniel, so by naming the complainant as Daniel’s hotel, he’s found a way to hurt the bus and cause a rift between us at the same time.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it. God. Oliver?’

Reenie frowned. ‘He does seem a possible culprit, but are you sure he’s the only one? You need to be absolutely certain before you accuse him. There must be a way to find out the truth.’

Charlie nodded. Even though the thought of kind, well-intentioned Oliver being behind it was awful, she still found it more palatable than Daniel being responsible. Reenie was right; she did know, deep down.

‘How come you’re so wise, Reenie? Hundreds of years at the bottom of the sea?’

‘It’s mainly my therapist,’ Reenie admitted. ‘I’ve spent so many hours with her, unravelling what’s going on up here,’ she tapped her forehead, ‘and in here,’ she patted her chest, ‘that I feel I have some insight into the minds of other people; especially when it comes to affairs of the heart.’

‘I didn’t know you had a therapist,’ Charlie said. ‘But then, I know hardly anything about you.’

Reenie drew her knees up to her chest, a gesture that made her look like a young girl. ‘Maybe it’s time I told you a thing or two.’

Charlie stayed silent, waiting.

‘My husband, Maurice, died ten years ago. He dropped down dead in the post-office queue, of a ruptured brain aneurysm. He’d been entirely healthy up to that point, so it was a complete shock. I fell apart. There are large chunks of the following months that I don’t remember. I rejected offers of help from my sister and her family, and stopped going to see her – or anyone.’

‘I’m so sorry, Reenie. I had no idea.’ She remembered Daniel mentioning Reenie’s family that night in the pub, how everyone at the table had been surprised.

‘Why should you? I haven’t told you about it up until now.’

‘Is that when you moved out here? After he died?’

She shook her head. ‘Maurice and I lived here together. I know it’s hard to believe, sitting here precariously on the cliff, but it is a stable home. We have a son, Eddie, but he’s grown now, with a family of his own out in Sydney. I haven’t seen him for several years, though we Skype every other morning. With my therapist, it’s once a week.’ She gave Charlie a wry look. ‘Modern technology has been the making of me – or should I say, remaking of me. In more ways than one. Come inside.’

She stood suddenly, and Charlie, after waiting for this moment and then unprepared to have it offered up so freely, almost stumbled off the edge of the cliff in her haste to see inside the yellow house.

Reenie pushed open the door and Charlie followed her into a small, open-plan kitchen and living room. The sparse furniture was white-painted pine, everything spick and span: a kitchen table and two chairs, a dresser against the far wall. The sofa and single armchair were grey fabric, cosy and worn, and the coffee table was clear apart from coasters. But it wasn’t the furniture Charlie was interested in, or even the sheer quantity of light that flooded the rooms; it was what the light was falling on, covering every wall, making it hard to see the paintwork behind.

There were hundreds and hundreds of photographs. Unframed, A6 size, pinned close together like a mosaic.

Charlie did a slow circle, taking it all in. They were all of Porthgolow, either facing into the village, or out towards sea, the shifting moods and colours of the ocean, the cliffs and the sky. There were some taken from the beach, and others from the top of the hill above the cottage, on Crumbling Cliff. Something snagged in her brain. How many years’ worth were here? Suddenly, the lights in the evening made sense. It was a camera’s flash.

‘How …?’ she began.

Reenie chuckled. ‘It’s my obsession. My therapist doesn’t think it’s healthy, but she’s accepted that it may take another two decades – however long I have left – for me to think my way out of it.’

Charlie stepped closer to the nearest wall, taking in the detail. In a few photos she could see The Cornish Cream Tea Bus, the flash of sun reflecting off Crystal Waters. There were several taken during her food markets, with the beach a hive of colourful, vibrant activity.

‘Do you take photos every day?’

‘Every day,’ Reenie echoed. ‘I can’t bear to let one pass without capturing it. I am the very definition of a dotty old woman.’

‘Because of your grief,’ Charlie said, moving to look at a cluster where the sea was pearlescent, the light not quite reaching the water’s surface. They must be the sunrise, she thought, the sun still low behind the land to the east, but touching everything with its morning glow. ‘You couldn’t hold onto Maurice, and this is your way of trying to regain control.’

She thought of how often, after Hal’s death, she’d had the sensation of falling, trying to grasp hold of something to stop herself, and realizing it would never be there again. The pure, white-hot burst of desolation, of aching to go back to the days before, when everything was as it should be.

‘You really are as smart as you look,’ Reenie said, amusement in her voice. ‘Almost.’

‘So you take the photos, then put them up randomly on the walls of the house?’

‘My printer works overtime. My biggest expense, even more than electricity on this place, is ink and photo paper. There are albums too, with the older pictures in. But it’s my version of knitting or pottery class with the local adult education centre. My way of coping. My therapist—’

‘Does she have a name?’ Charlie asked, laughing.

‘She does, but it’s Dolly, so it’s best if we gloss over that. She says it’s a symptom of my grief, not a part of my recovery. That’s usually when I tell her I don’t give a toss and end our session early. But she understands. We work well together.’

Charlie grinned. She’d had no idea what this yellow house contained, though the most surprising thing was Reenie herself. ‘And you don’t … do anything …’ Her voice drifted off as the synapses fired, and the truth hit her like a lightning bolt. ‘Oh my God.’

‘Shut your mouth girl, you’ll catch things bigger than flies.’

‘Porthgolow Hideaway,’ Charlie said. ‘That’s where I recognize the photos from. You’re behind the Porthgolow Hideaway Instagram account? It’s got thousands of followers.’

‘It does seem to be going rather well. And it’s nice to have a place where I can chat to people.’

Charlie peered over Reenie’s shoulder as the older woman opened her iPhone and then the Instagram app. There it was, @PorthgolowHideaway. The successful Instagram influencer was a reclusive, wise old woman who some people thought might possibly be a mermaid. She remembered Daniel saying he’d like to have some kind of partnership with the account and laughed out loud.

‘Daniel doesn’t know, does he? He’s never been in here?’

‘You’re the first person to darken this door for a long while, and whenever I see Daniel, it’s up at the hotel. Nobody knew about my foray into the online world up until this very moment, and I’d like to keep it that way, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Why?’ She could smell Reenie’s faint lavender scent and felt a twist of protectiveness towards her, as self-aware and defiant as she was.

‘I don’t want anyone to know. It’s for me, posting the beauty of this place, interacting with people who comment. They don’t need to know I’m behind it.’

‘Porthgolow Hideaway,’ Charlie murmured. ‘What made you start it up?’

‘Why not?’ Reenie said. ‘I was taking the photographs anyway, and Dolly said I should connect with people. This is how I choose to do it. I may not have the will to come to one of your markets or socialize in the pub, but I can show people how special this place is. It’s how I see Porthgolow. And this,’ she gestured to the sea beyond the windows, ‘this is our view. Maurice’s and mine. If I put my name to it, if the Instagram page isn’t anonymous any more, I’d be giving up what Maurice and I had together.’

Charlie put her hand on Reenie’s arm and could feel how thin it was, the bone close to the surface. ‘You’re already sharing it,’ she said softly, ‘even if nobody knows it’s you. And just because you tell them, it doesn’t mean it’s no longer yours and his. You don’t dilute your memories just because you share them with other people. In some ways, I think, it makes them stronger.’

Reenie stared at her, suddenly looking her age. Charlie wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to; it was entirely up to her what she did with her photographs. But they had definitely had an influence on her events; the account had put Porthgolow on the social media map before Charlie had even driven into the village. She was sure it had helped build the momentum.

‘You know what?’ Charlie continued. ‘You have been a huge help to me, to the food market, and I didn’t realize it. Thank you, Reenie.’

‘Oh tush.’ Reenie waved her away, but Charlie could see she was pleased. ‘Now, never mind all this. What are you going to do about Daniel, and Oliver, and poor, stricken Gertie?’

Charlie chewed her lip. Reenie had solved one of her Porthgolow mysteries, but there was another, more pressing issue she had to get to the bottom of. And the sooner she worked it out, the sooner she could get on with enjoying the rest of her summer.

Chapter Two

Charlie put her spatula down and scraped her finger along the edge, her phone tucked under her ear as she listened.

‘So I really think we can do some great new things, Charlie, and if your bus wants to be part of it, obviously with a bit of a shift-around, then of course that would be wonderful.’ Bea Fishington sounded contrite, but she had no reason to be. The Fair on the Field had been a disaster, but The Cornish Cream Tea Bus was not. Charlie knew that everyone back home was following her success online – her mum and dad had been cooing to her about it on the phone.

‘It sounds great,’ Charlie murmured. ‘I’m glad it’s worked out so well with your niece, and that … that you’re looking forward to having me back.’

‘Beginning of September, I think we said, didn’t we?’

‘Something like that.’ Ray jumped effortlessly onto the kitchen table, and Charlie gently lifted him off again.

There was a pause, and then Bea said, ‘I’m so glad this summer’s been so good for you, Charlie. You’ve spread your wings, really found your place in the world. It’s brilliant. Let me know when you’re back in Ross, or Cheltenham, and we can get together and have a chat before you officially return. I’m sure your mum and dad are dying to see you.’

‘They’re really looking forward to it,’ Charlie confirmed.

They said their goodbyes and Bea rang off. Charlie dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and Ray jumped onto her lap, nuzzling against her hand.

The truth was, the few times she’d spoken to her parents there had been no talk of the end of the summer and her return home. And Bea and The Café on the Hill hadn’t been troubling her consciousness while Gertie and her markets were working so well. A part of her had believed that Bea wouldn’t want her back. She had seen her sabbatical as an extended period of garden leave, her boss quickly finding a replacement and getting in touch at some point down the line to let her know she was no longer needed.

Could Charlie really leave Porthgolow? Leave her food market to carry on into autumn, attracting more vendors and customers, but without The Cornish Cream Tea Bus at the centre? She tried to imagine it, and found that she couldn’t.

While she waited for her trading consent to be reinstated, she had planned to spend her time baking, devising new, delicious cakes and pastries to serve, to take the cream teas for her tours to new culinary heights. And she still would, she decided, spurring herself into action and returning to her bowl of cake batter. She wasn’t gone yet.

‘You can’t run Cornish Cream Tea Tours on your Cornish Cream Tea Bus if you’re not in Cornwall,’ Juliette said half an hour later, once Charlie had updated her on her conversation with Bea.

Charlie gave her third and final cake mix a gentle fold, and then poured it into the tin. ‘So I’ll have a name change. The Cotswold Cream Tea Bus works just as well.’

‘You wouldn’t!’ Juliette was acting as if Charlie had committed treason.

‘I can’t live with you and Lawrence for ever, Jules. This isn’t my home. You have been so, so generous letting me stay here. It’s beyond the bounds of even the closest friendship.’

‘It is not—’

‘And Bea wants me back. She’s excited about what we can do at the café. And on the bus.’

‘And you sound equally thrilled,’ Juliette replied sarcastically.

‘I hadn’t thought about it, that’s all. I’ve been so tied up with everything here.’ She waved her spatula around and a bit of cake mix landed on Ray’s head. He stared at her accusingly.

‘That’s because things here are better.’

‘You and Lawrence need your own space, and I have to think seriously about what I’m doing next.’

She could still hear Bea’s enthusiastic voice in her ear and wondered how her mum and dad were really doing without her. They always seemed happy on the phone, but how would she know for certain unless she saw them? Maybe it was time to go back: maybe her trading consent being revoked and the mess with Oliver and Daniel were signs that she’d outstayed her welcome here. The Porthgolow food market would remain, but it could run perfectly well without her there.

‘I understand that.’ Jules wrapped Charlie in a hug. ‘Just don’t be too rash with your decision. For what it’s worth, I love having you here, and can barely imagine the place without you in it. Also, I don’t think it’s right that you’re taking on this Mary Poppins role! Sweeping in, fixing the village with your food market and sweeping out again. I might have to confiscate all your umbrellas – and your bus keys, for that matter. If Gertie can’t leave, then neither can you. Besides,’ she added, giving Charlie a fierce look, ‘you still need to talk to Daniel.’

Charlie stared at the hob, the drifts of flour where she had been less than careful with her ingredients. She made a pattern with her finger. ‘I know that,’ she muttered. She still had to find out who was responsible for her bus being taken out of action, but the thought of seeing Daniel again, after he’d left her with that kiss burning through her, set her emotions spinning.

‘You’ll get to see him at the meeting tomorrow, anyway,’ Juliette added.

Charlie rolled her eyes. The WhatsApp message had pinged onto her phone that morning, encouraging everyone to attend an urgent meeting and asking whether, as she couldn’t open Gertie to paying customers, Charlie would be happy to host it. ‘Any idea what Myrtle wants?’

‘Nope,’ Juliette said. ‘But it’s bound to be something important.’

‘Bound to be,’ Charlie echoed. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she opened the oven door. Not even the delicate waft of a cooked-to-perfection lemon drizzle cake could lift her spirits.

Everyone was there. Juliette and Lawrence, Rose, Frank and Hugh, the entire Kerr family – including Jem in her buggy and Jonah sitting poised with a pen and notepad. Myrtle had bustled on board, all business, and Lauren had sneaked in and sat at the back, her white shirt and dark skirt in stark contrast to all the colourful T-shirts and shorts of the other villagers.

Anton and Stella had been first to arrive, offering Charlie beaming smiles that made her feel slightly unsettled, as if they knew something she didn’t and, just as she was serving pots of tea and laying plates of her lemon drizzle cake on the downstairs tables, Reenie appeared.

‘Reenie Teague, as I live and breathe.’ Hugh stood up to greet her.

‘I’m not the queen,’ she said, though she was smiling as she accepted his peck on the cheek.

Charlie looked at all the expectant faces and wiped her sweaty palms down her skirt. But this wasn’t her gig; today she wouldn’t be the one offering suggestions, trying to change the way things were run in Porthgolow. It didn’t stop her being nervous. Maybe whoever had gone to the council was watching and would try to get her shut down permanently this time. She had got in touch with the licensing department just in case, confirming she was entitled to use Gertie for private, unpaid events once Myrtle had asked her to host the meeting. She wasn’t taking any chances. But was that why Daniel wasn’t here? Was he worried about being seen on board a condemned bus? She took a deep breath and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Myrtle cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, all, for comin’ today,’ she started. She had her hands clasped together in front of her, and Charlie thought that she might not be the only nervous person on board.

‘What’s this about, Myrtle?’ Hugh asked. ‘Are we here to find out what’s happened to Gertie, why someone is threatening the food market?’

‘The market is safe,’ Charlie said. ‘I won’t be able to take part tomorrow, but that doesn’t stop everyone else. It’s only my bus that can’t trade.’ She had pulled the notice off the door the day after it had appeared. Not that that would reinstate her consent – and it certainly hadn’t stopped the Porthgolow rumour mill from getting hold of the news – but she hadn’t wanted to leave it there for everyone to gawp at. Even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, she couldn’t help feeling ashamed.

‘I could be a spy,’ Jonah said, raising his hand. ‘Follow the clues, do some digging. You like Bond films, don’t you, Lawrence? Do you want to team up?’ There was a smattering of laughter.

‘Sounds grand, Jonah mate,’ Lawrence said. ‘Let’s talk about it later.’

‘What has happened to Charlie’s bus is a – a travesty.’ Myrtle bristled. ‘When will you be up and running again, d’you know?’

Charlie was momentarily stunned into silence. ‘A few days, I think. I’ve got my inspection on Monday and so as long as that goes well, I should get my consent back straight away.’

‘Good, good. You can’t keep a Porthgolow maid down, that’s what I say. Which means our plan can still go ahead. A three-day food market for the August bank holiday.’

Rose and Frank nodded energetically and Stella gave Charlie a wide, pretty grin.

Charlie gasped, her eyes shooting to Juliette, but her friend looked as surprised as she felt.

‘That’s a grand idea,’ Hugh said. ‘It’s been going so well. Makes sense to end the summer with a bang.’

‘But it’s not the end,’ Amanda piped up. ‘We don’t want it to just be a summer thing. It’ll be harder in the winter, of course, but we were thinking we could hold them once a month in the off-season. There are foodie treats more suited to autumn and then, of course, there’s Christmas. We’ve done some research on other markets. Well, when I say we, it’s all been Jonah.’ She held out a folder and Charlie took it, peering inside at the sheaves of paper covered in photos and information.

‘You want it to continue?’ she asked.

‘I know I’ve not always been the easiest to get on with,’ Myrtle said, ‘but there’s no denying it’s brought life to this place. Bill was singin’ its praises, and I’ve, uh, sampled a few bits, here ’n’ there.’

‘The market is wonderful, Charlie,’ Anton said. ‘There’s no way we could stop it now.’

‘Best thing to come to Porthgolow for a long time,’ Rose agreed, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Charlie felt the sting of tears. She couldn’t quite take it in. She caught Reenie’s eye and the older woman smiled back at her: a knowing, smug little smile that made Charlie want to hug her.

‘You think everyone will be on board for three whole days?’ she asked. ‘It’s a lot of work. A lot of effort.’

‘Don’t be so negative, cheel,’ Myrtle chided gently. ‘We’re all goin’ to help. We’ll promote it where we can, spruce the village up a bit in preparation. I’ve cleaned tables in my time, so you won’t be on your own in the bus if you don’t want to be.’

‘Benji’s going to create a special Porthgolow burger,’ Jonah piped up. ‘We’re already looking at sauces and recipes. Maybe you could come up with some new cakes, Charlie? Just for that weekend. Like a bank holiday special or something?’

She nodded. ‘I could certainly give it a go, Jonah.’

‘And I’ve been brewing my own ale for a while,’ Hugh said. ‘I could see about having a stand out here on a Saturday. Nothing fancy, mind, but I could launch it on the bank holiday, then sell it in the pub, too. I’ve been inspired by all those artisan brewers with beards and no socks.’ He laughed. ‘I want to be a part of it.’

‘You’ve made such a huge difference, Charlie,’ Amanda said. ‘We want you to know that we appreciate it, that what you’re doing here has changed Porthgolow, and we hope it never ends.’ A lower-deck full of heads nodded back at her and Charlie smiled, even though her eyes were swimming.

Could she really leave this – all these wonderful people – behind, and go back to Bea and Ross-on-Wye?

‘It hasn’t just been me,’ she said, finding her voice. ‘It couldn’t have happened without you – without all of your support. That first meeting wasn’t … well, it wasn’t quite as unanimous as this one,’ she added, laughing, ‘but I still felt encouraged to give it a go.’

She realized then that both she and Daniel had been right. She had needed to show everyone that it could work; that she could turn the empty beach into a thriving hub of activity, but she would never have had the courage to try if everyone had been against it from the start.

‘You were brave,’ Reenie said. ‘You put yourself out there, even though you knew it was a risk.’

Charlie nodded. ‘I did, but—’

‘It’s about time I was brave, too. Let everyone in on my little secret. As you’re all here, now seems like the perfect time.’

‘Reenie,’ Charlie started, ‘you don’t have—’

‘The mermaid thing!’ Jonah jumped out of his chair. ‘You’re going to announce that you’re a mermaid, and bring all your mermaid friends up from the sea to say hello.’

‘Holy mother o’ God,’ Myrtle murmured.

Hugh’s usually pale face went red, and Amanda and Paul couldn’t have looked more embarrassed if Jonah had swept their table clear and climbed on top of it to dance the Macarena.

‘Darling boy,’ Reenie said, ‘if you continue to perpetuate this mermaid myth, then your younger sisters are going to grow up to be very confused individuals.’

‘So … you’re not a mermaid, then?’ Jonah looked genuinely confused, and Charlie’s heart went out to him.

‘No, my love. I am not. But I do have something I can contribute to this bank holiday market.’

‘Unicorns are real, though,’ Flora interjected.

‘That, young lady, is a discussion for another day. No, my contribution is twenty thousand Instagram followers, and my willingness to promote this event on my account in any way you so desire.’

‘What on earth?’ Myrtle asked.

‘What did you just say, Reenie?’ Stella took another piece of lemon cake.

‘Twenty thousand Instagram followers,’ Hugh said. ‘That’s no mean feat.’

‘I have one hundred and four,’ Jonah declared proudly.

‘You’re too young to be on Instagram,’ Reenie said, and shook her head at Paul and Amanda, who had begun to look as if hiding under the table might be their only option.

As Reenie explained about the Porthgolow Hideaway account, everyone got their phones out to see for themselves, as if somehow by viewing it with this new knowledge, they would be able to find a previously hidden selfie of Reenie standing in front of her cottage for all the world to see.

Charlie got milk out of the fridge, desperate for a cappuccino even though it was gone seven in the evening. She hadn’t thought to bring wine, though it would have been perfectly acceptable in this private gathering. She barely noticed the chatter stop, and almost missed Juliette’s sharp intake of breath, but then a slender hand clutched her arm, and Charlie turned to her friend and then followed her gaze to the doorway.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Daniel said, glancing at Lauren. ‘I got held up.’

Charlie took in his dark jeans and navy hoodie, the way his hair had clearly fought a battle with the wind. It was the first time she’d seen him since their encounter at the jetty.

‘Oh Daniel,’ Reenie said, rising and holding her arms out. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. Reenie’s face was flushed with pleasure, and Charlie could see how close they were; perhaps Daniel had partly replaced her distant son, whom she saw only via computer screen. ‘Better late than never, though this is a rather important meeting for you to be rocking up so late.’

Charlie hid her smile, inexplicably happy that he didn’t escape Reenie’s gentle chiding.

‘I know, and I’m really sorry. How did our plan go down? What do you think about a bank holiday food market, Charlie?’

Charlie could tell that he wasn’t as relaxed as usual; there was a nervous energy about him she wasn’t used to. ‘I think it’s a great plan,’ she said. ‘A perfect way to end the summer.’

‘Good.’ He leaned against the back of the bench Reenie was sitting on, his arms folded over his chest, and listened to Myrtle – and Hugh, Amanda, Stella and Jonah – recap what he’d missed, even though, from the sound of it, he’d been in on the idea from the beginning. He showed genuine surprise – and amusement – that Reenie was responsible for the Porthgolow Hideaway account.

Charlie allowed her gaze to drift over his arms, taking in the definition of his biceps, visible despite the hoodie, the length of his legs, his blue Converse, the way an unruly wave of his hair had fallen over his left eye and he’d left it there. She felt the churning, low in her stomach, that appeared whenever she thought of Daniel, ten times stronger now that she was in his presence.

‘OK?’ Juliette whispered. ‘Only the milk’s about to overflow.’

‘Oh fuck,’ Charlie shouted, as the boiling milk she’d been absent-mindedly frothing bubbled to the lip of the jug and cascaded over her fingers.

Juliette took the jug away, turned on the cold tap and pulled Charlie’s hand under it.

‘Is our fearless leader OK?’ Reenie asked.

‘I’m fine,’ Charlie called, glad that she could stand next to the sink and hide her flaming cheeks.

‘A minor milk scald, nothing more,’ Juliette confirmed. ‘So everything’s settled, then? We’re all on board for the bank holiday weekend? Three whole days of eventing! Porthgolow won’t know what’s hit it.’

There were murmurs of assent, whoops and cheers and general jubilation. Daniel stood up and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Lauren,’ he said. ‘Could I have a word with you, outside?’

He’d spoken quietly, but it wasn’t the ideal place to have a private conversation. The bus fell silent and everyone’s eyes swivelled in Lauren’s direction.

She sat up straighter, her gaze wary. ‘Shouldn’t we wait until the meeting’s finished?’

‘Just a quick word,’ Daniel said. ‘It won’t take long.’

Lauren relaxed into her seat, but her hands were fidgeting on the table. ‘I think we should finish up here first. If this three-day market is really going to happen, then we need to know all the facts so we can manage its impact on the hotel. We don’t want to miss anything important.’

‘We won’t,’ Daniel said. ‘But I do need to talk to you, quite urgently.’

Lauren shook her head. Charlie was shocked to see her eyes were glistening. Something cold and hard lodged itself under her ribcage.

Daniel rubbed his jaw. ‘Listen, I—’

‘She did it, didn’t she?’ Myrtle said quietly. ‘That’s why you want to talk to her, and she won’t come. Because she knows what you’re goin’ to say.’

‘Did what?’ Hugh asked, as Lauren stared at the table.

‘Went to the council.’ Myrtle curled her thin fingers into fists. ‘She called the council and got Charlie’s bus shut down.’

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