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
