early October day. ‘There’s quite a breeze blowing in from the harbour—’
‘Don’t feel the cold,’ Tassie interrupted, ‘and I’m not really wearing the right sort of clothes for a wedding. Her dress is pretty, isn’t it?’ she added, gazing wistfully towards the lychgate where Alison and Jack were having their photographs taken.
‘Yes, it’s very pretty,’ Eve murmured, her heart twisting slightly at the envy she could see in the little girl’s brown eyes. Eyes which had always seemed too large for her thin face even when she’d been a toddler. ‘Tassie, does your mother know you’re here?’
‘She said I was to get out from under her feet, so I did. She won’t be worried.’
Amanda Lovelace probably wouldn’t, Eve thought with a sigh, but that wasn’t the point.
‘Tassie—’
‘I was wondering whether I could come to the reception?’ the girl interrupted. ‘I heard Mrs Althorp say there would be lots of food, so could I come? I won’t be any trouble—I promise.’
Eve’s heart sank. Normally she couldn’t refuse Tassie anything. The child had so few treats in her life, but she didn’t want to go to the reception. She didn’t want to go anywhere but home.
‘Tassie, the reception’s not really for children,’ she began. ‘It’s more a grown-up thing.’
‘Nonsense!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘My son Jem will be there and he’s only nine. And Alison’s son Sam and Jack’s son Freddie are both going, and they’re only three, so I’m sure Tassie would enjoy it.’
‘Perhaps,’ Eve declared, ‘but I really don’t think—’
‘Oh, I do, most definitely,’ Tom interrupted. ‘If Tom Cornish can be given an invitation then I think this half-pint should have one, too.’
‘But her mother won’t know where she is,’ Eve protested, all too aware she was losing this argument, but determined to give it one last try. ‘She’ll be worried.’
Tom delved into his pocket and produced his mobile phone.
‘Not if we use the wonders of modern technology,’ he declared. ‘Give her a quick call, and then I’ll get to take two beautiful women out to lunch.’
Tassie giggled, and Eve sighed inwardly. There was nothing left to say—no argument she could come up with—and when she reluctantly took the phone Kate beamed.
‘That’s settled, then,’ the midwife said as Eve made her call then handed back the phone to Tom. ‘Tom, Eve can show you how to get to The Smugglers’ Inn if you’ve forgotten where it is, and…’ She stopped in mid-sentence as a dull, metallic thud suddenly split the air followed by the sound of breaking glass. ‘What the…?’
‘Sounds like someone’s just backed into something,’ Tom observed.
‘And no prizes for guessing who the “someone” is.’ Kate groaned as Lauren clambered out of her car, her hand pressed to her mouth.
‘Oh, come on, be fair, Kate,’ Eve protested. ‘The cars are parked really close to one another. Whose car did she hit?’
Kate frowned. ‘Don’t know. It’s a metallic blue Range Rover, not from around here by its number plate, so my guess is it belongs to some flash holidaymaker.’
Tom cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid I’m the flash holiday-maker, so who is the “she” who has just reversed into my car?’
Kate looked uncomfortably at Eve, and Eve bit her lip.
‘Lauren. She’s our practice physiotherapist, and a really lovely woman, but quite dreadfully accident prone.’
And currently absolutely mortified, Eve thought as Lauren hurried towards them, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes worried.
‘I was certain I had enough space to reverse,’ she exclaimed, ‘absolutely certain, but… Does anyone know who owns the blue Range Rover?’
‘Tom does,’ Eve replied. ‘Tom, this is Lauren Nightingale.’
‘Not Florence?’ he said, and Eve rolled her eyes.
‘Tom, Lauren must have heard that joke about a million times.’
‘A million and one now, actually,’ Lauren said, ‘but that’s not the point. I’m so sorry about your car—’
‘From the looks of it, your Renault’s come off worse,’ Tom interrupted, gazing critically at his car, then at Lauren’s. ‘You’ve scraped quite a bit of paintwork off your tail, whereas you’ve only broken my indicator light cover.’
‘Which I will pay for,’ Lauren insisted, digging into her bag. ‘I have my insurance certificate in here—’
‘Look, how about I simply send you the bill for the repair, and we don’t involve our insurance companies at all?’ Tom suggested. ‘That way you won’t lose your no-claims bonus.’
‘Are you sure?’ Lauren said uncertainly, and, when Tom nodded, she extracted a notebook and a pen from her bag. ‘You’ll need my address for the bill. It’s Gatehouse Cottage. That’s—’
‘The cottage at the bottom of the drive that leads to the Manor House.’ Tom smiled when the physiotherapist looked at him in surprise. ‘I was born in Penhally, lived here for the first twenty-four years of my life, so I know where everything is.’
‘Where are you staying so I can contact you?’ Lauren asked.
‘The Anchor Hotel,’ Tom replied, taking the notebook and pen from Lauren, ‘but I won’t be there long so you’d better have my London address.’
His London address. So he didn’t live in the States any more, Eve thought as she watched him scribble in Lauren’s notebook, and he wasn’t going to be staying in The Anchor for long, but did that mean he was moving back into his old home in Penhally, or what?
‘You’re staying at The Anchor Hotel?’ Kate said before Eve could ask the questions she so desperately wanted the answers to. ‘Very posh.’
‘You mean, you’re amazed they let anyone called Cornish through the door?’ Tom said with an edge, and Kate coloured deeply.
‘Of course I didn’t mean that!’ she exclaimed. ‘I just meant…’
Her voice trailed away into awkward, embarrassed silence, and Eve came to her rescue.
‘Kate, shouldn’t you be making tracks for The Smugglers’?’ she said. ‘Alison and Jack headed off a few minutes ago, and they must be wondering where you are.’
‘Oh. Right,’ the midwife declared with a grateful smile and, as she and Lauren both headed for their cars, Eve turned to Tom, her expression sad.
‘So, it still pushes all your buttons, does it, even after all these years?’
Tom’s face tightened.
‘Only
