style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Wow.’
Lily takes a deep breath, just like she did when she stepped into Demelza’s.
‘It’s an amazing view. I love the view from Ben’s parents’ house over Mounts Bay but the north west is so wild.’
‘It’s hard to decide which is better,’ I say, aware of Ben standing next to us, not that he seems too bothered as he’s still scrolling through his phone.
‘Is there a signal up here?’ he says, holding the handset up.
‘It’s patchy,’ I admit. ‘But there’s Wi-Fi in the cafe and cottages. We plan to offer Wi-Fi all over the glamping field and events area before your wedding.’
He doesn’t answer me but hmmphs and shoves his phone in his jacket. He joins Lily who has walked the few yards from our land to the coastal path. It’s still windy but I think she’ll be OK.
‘This looks like a scene from The French Lieutenant’s Woman, doesn’t it, Ben?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, standing behind her with his arms around her waist.
‘I haven’t heard of that,’ I say.
‘It’s a book and it was a film before I was born. Isla wants to do a remake but it’s set in Lyme Regis not Cornwall. There’s a scene where the heroine stands in a howling gale almost being blown off the Cobb. I’m hoping Ben will play the hero in it.’
Wow. I think Ben may have actually smiled. Maybe his grouchiness is from pre-wedding nerves or the pressure of his job. I wouldn’t want to live my life under the microscope like they do, even though they’re meant to live for the publicity. I bet they have to do a lot of things they don’t want to as well.
The publisher of our canine cookbook wants my co-author, Eva Spero, and me to do some radio and TV appearances when it comes out later this year. To be honest, the idea makes me go weak at the knees but I guess I’ll get used to it. Cal and I still haven’t quite got over being featured in a Sunday lifestyle magazine last autumn, thanks to Eva who was impressed by our set-up when she turned up to Kilhallon’s launch party last year.
‘Shall we move on to the wedding glade? It’s more sheltered down there,’ I ask, seeing Ben shivering in the wind blowing off the sea.
Lily slots her arm through his. ‘Are you cold?’
‘Freezing my rocks off,’ Ben mutters.
‘Let’s get out of the wind,’ I say, wishing Ben had come equipped for the weather.
On our way to the glade, Harry walks to the left and a little behind, checking around him at intervals. Maybe he thinks an assassin might be hiding behind the cafe bins or the high-banked hedges that protect the camping field from the worst of the Atlantic wind.
Clumps of snowdrops nod their delicate heads in the breeze and early primroses dot the banks that line the lane to the cottages and the edge of the copse. I love the first signs of spring. When I spent a stint sleeping rough, all I cared about was a warm place to stay, but now I’m lucky enough to appreciate the seasons changing from a warm bed and home.
A boy waving a plastic cutlass shoots out of the copse next to us onto the path.
‘Wooo hoooo! Watch out! I’m a pirate!’
‘Jesus! What the—’ Ben steadies Lily as the boy clips her arm.
‘Sorry!’ the boy shouts but races off down the slope towards the yurt field, waving his sword cutlass. He’s wearing a pirate hat and an eye patch but I’m sure I know him.
‘Are you OK, baby?’ Ben asks Lily.
Lily smiles. ‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’
‘Quick! Blackbeard’s after us!’ A little girl in pirate gear shoots out of the copse and clips Ben. He tries to stay upright but slips on the damp turf and lands smack on his bum in a puddle.
The girl shouts ‘Sorry!’ but she’s already on her way, racing down the slope after her pirate friend.
‘Fuck,’ Ben growls, scrambling out of the puddle. ‘You little sods!’ he calls after them, trying to scramble to his feet.
‘Are you OK, Ben?’ Lily reaches down to help him up.
He shakes it off. ‘My jeans are ruined. Little brats could have done me some serious damage.’
I wince. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sure it was an accident.’
‘Whose kids are they?’ he snaps.
‘They’re from St Trenyan.’ I’m in despair wondering why they are here and to be honest more pissed off at the way Ben’s spoken about the children. I recognise them, of course: they’re members of the families who were evacuated here after the flooding. They moved out of Kilhallon last month and into temporary accommodation so I’ve no idea why they’re chasing around the site dressed as pirates today.
‘They didn’t do it on purpose, sweetheart,’ Lily says, taking Ben’s elbow as he gets to his feet. I swallow hard. His designer jeans are soaked with mud and his Stan Smiths are ruined. Where the hell is Cal?
My answer comes a split second later as Blackbeard himself, complete with tricorn and eye patch, jogs out of the copse shouting: ‘Come here, you scurvy knaves. I’ll make you walk the plank!’
‘Sorry, mate!’
Cal screeches to a halt inches from Ben. Lily lets out a giggle but Ben glares at him with open contempt.
‘Are those your kids? You should control the little sods,’ he snaps.
Cal’s smile vanishes and he pushes his eye patch over his forehead. ‘They’re not little sods. They’re playing at pirates.’
Ben snorts. ‘Pirates? They could have broken my neck. And look at my jeans. These were made specially for me by the designer. They’re unique.’
‘Well, they definitely are now, mate.’ Cal frowns at the mud-spattered denim while I die a little inside. ‘And they’re not my children but I’ll pass on your parenting advice to their mums and dads. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.’
‘Cal!’ I cut in, cringing at the naked menace in his voice while wanting to sink through the ground. ‘This is Ben Trevone and Lily Craig. Our VIP guests.’
Cal glances from Ben to Lily then sucks in a breath before thrusting out his muddy hand. ‘Oh, right. Well, good to meet you both. Sorry the kids were a bit over enthusiastic with their pirate raiding.’
Ignoring Cal’s hand, Ben snorts. ‘Over enthusiastic? They’ve ruined my jeans, not that I care, of course, or about being dumped on my arse in the mud, but Lily was almost knocked flying.’
‘No, I wasn’t.
