laughed Ella. She put her arm out to Kit as he passed on his way to the sink. ‘But can it be to Trevay? I need to pick up some steak to make pasties for Henry tomorrow.’
Henry couldn’t wait to get out of London. When the most recent solicitor’s letter had arrived last week he had managed to wangle a decent chunk of leave in Cornwall. He wasn’t too bothered about the letter. Another routine meeting. He and Ella had had so many since their grandmother had died. The problem lay with his unreliable, irresponsible mother who had left him and Ella when they were just tiny. He had been about two and Ella just over one. She’d disappeared to God knew where for God knew what whim and never come back. It had left Granny and Poppa heartbroken. Not to mention Henry, who still had vague memories of his mother. Sitting on her lap, being folded into her arms … Stop it, he told himself. Hopefully the solicitor would tell him and Ella that his mother was lost forever, or dead. Either would be fine with him. Then at last they could sort out Granny’s estate and move on with their lives.
He returned his attention to the work on his desk. Two reports to finish, three phone calls to make and a handover to his colleague on how to deal with any issues that might arise in his absence and then – he rubbed his hands gleefully – Cornwall here he came.
Ella and Kit closed the door of Marguerite Cottage and waved at their nearest neighbour, Simon Canter, the vicar of Holy Trinity Church.
‘Good afternoon,’ Simon greeted them as he walked through the churchyard. ‘Beautiful day. Enjoy it.’
‘We will,’ Ella called back.
He was right. It was a lovely day and as she waited for Kit to open up the car and load the dogs, Ella took time to absorb the moment. The Pendruggan village green with its cluster of old and new homes around it. Above her, tiny white cloud puffs floated in the bluest of skies. The smell of gorse on the wind, bringing with it the light rumble of surf on Shellsand Beach.
‘Come on. Jump in,’ said Kit, jangling the keys of his slightly aged car.
She climbed in. ‘It’s a day to be happy.’
‘It’s always a day to be happy for me,’ he replied reversing out of the short drive.
She laughed. ‘You’re always so bloody happy. It’s exhausting.’
‘I’m a glass half-full man.’
‘Don’t I know it. My healthy scepticism, hoping for the best expecting the worst, balances us perfectly.’ She waved and smiled as she spotted Queenie, owner of the village store and harbinger of all news, taking a quick fag break outside her shop. ‘Queenie, however, is on permanent standby for disaster. Like Henry.’
Kit shoved the car into first gear and set off around the village green towards Trevay. ‘So your brother’s a miserable sod, then?’
‘Yep. But he cheers up when he has beer inside him.’
‘I’m the man for that job.’
They drove in friendly silence up the dappled lane that took them past their local, the Dolphin Pub and out to the top road headed towards Trevay.
Ella had always loved this road, even as a child living in Trevay with her brother and grandparents. She unwound the window and watched as the trees and small cottages gave way to high hedges with gateways offering tantalising vistas of the sea beyond. As the road reached its highest point the trees and farms opened to acres of green fields, with the glittering Atlantic below, crashing onto the rocks of the headland that sheltered her childhood village.
The final descent into Trevay revealed the busy harbour with its working fishing fleet tied up on the low tide. How she loved this place. How she had missed it when her old family home had been sold as a bed and breakfast business.
‘Which way?’ asked Kit as they got out of the car.
‘Over to the headland?’ Ella was opening the hatchback boot and putting Celia and Terry on their leads. ‘These two can run around safely over there.’
The walk took them up the steep hill to the left of the harbour, past the Pavilions Theatre and onto the coastal path. The view from here was breathtaking. Jagged, slate-layered cliffs fell to the rolling boil of a gentle sea. Celia and Terry were unleashed and ran like cheetahs through the gold and purple of gorse and heather, forcing the shy skylarks to take to the wing and sing their beautiful song.
Kit pulled Ella towards him by the collar of her jacket and kissed her. ‘Happy anniversary,’ he said.
‘Happy anniversary, my love.’ She kissed him back. ‘How many months is it now?’
‘Five.’
She sighed. ‘Five months. The best five months of my life.’
‘And mine, sweetheart.’ He kissed her nose and they walked on hand in hand. ‘Fancy dinner out tonight? I mean five months is a hell of an anniversary, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve got to make the pasties for tomorrow. Henry will be disappointed if I don’t.’
‘Okay. How about coffee and a cake when we get back to Trevay?’
‘Done.’
They walked and talked and threw Celia and Terry their balls until all four of them were ready to go back to the car.
‘They’ll sleep well tonight,’ said Kit, shutting them in the boot.
‘We all will.’ Ella took off her jacket. ‘I’m ready for that cake too.’
The Foc’sle was an old-fashioned teashop on the quay, two doors down from the Golden Hind pub.
‘We could have a quick pint if you want?’ said Ella.
‘Much rather have a pot of tea.’ Kit perused the slightly sticky, laminated menu. ‘How about a cream tea? You need fattening up.’
‘Do I?’ She fluttered her eyelashes winsomely.
‘Yes, indeed,’ he said seriously. ‘Being as lovely as you takes up many more calories than the average person. Fact. All that smiling and thinking kind thoughts is almost aerobic.’
‘Well, in that case …’ She nudged his knee under the table with her own. ‘I can always do some exercise … at bedtime. You could join me if you wanted.’
‘Oh, Miss Tallon,’ he shrieked, pretending to be shocked, ‘Just because you are a blazing firework of a woman with marmalade curls, you think you can do what you want with me?’
Ella giggled, ‘Yes.’
‘Then I am helpless, pulled by a current so strong I can’t resist. Do what you will, but …’
She raised an eyebrow and in a deep voice said, ‘Yes?’
‘Be gentle with me.’
‘Can I help you?’ asked the middle-aged waitress with a name badge saying Sheree, who was standing over them.
Without missing a beat, Kit said, ‘Two cream teas, please.’
The
