Breakfast Under a Cornish Sun (20 page)

Shirl got up with Pearl and danced by their chairs. My chest glowed. Nothing gave me more pleasure at my gigs than watching little ones build their dancing confidence. Usually, like Pearl at the moment, they would start off just sidestepping their feet, one two, one two. But often, by the end of the evening, they'd allow an adult to twirl them around and start creating their own rhythmic hand movements.

I couldn't imagine being an only child; having one parent to myself, let alone two. My siblings would have found it lonely, but I had my music and books. Although—and much as I loved having my own flat—I would have missed the giggles and hugs, the inside jokes about Mum, the back-up in the playground if someone teased me about my hand-me-down clothes.

An hour in and I was getting a great round of applause after each song—apart from the Peppards. Clearly disco wasn't their thing. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. Lucas brought me over a pint of water.

‘You're doing great,' he said. ‘Well done. If you get hungry, there's a couple of those fish goujons by the CD machine.'

I swallowed. That was sweet. I hoped he'd understand when I backed off from our romance—if you could call it that—which I'd do after tonight's gig. Even though I had no guarantee of any future with Tremain, the sensations I'd felt, with fingers running through his hair, meant I didn't care, the thirst in me
was so urgent to really start living again—not carrying on some pretend love affair, just to impress an old school friend, who, actually, wasn't even a friend.

I devoured one of the goujons, the home-made breadcrumb disintegrating deliciously on my tongue. Then glugged back a mouthful of water. I turned on the CD machine. ‘You Sexy Thing' by Hot Chocolate came on. Except that my mike wasn't working. I fiddled with the buttons. Nope.

‘I'll just be a moment, folks,' I said and tracked the cable back to the wall. Everything looked fine to me. Izzy appeared and took a look. She couldn't find a problem either. Deep breaths.

‘Slight equipment malfunction everyone, but no matter. I have the loudest of voices.' There was no way I'd let Tremain and Kensa down. Forcing my lips upwards, I turned on the CD again, just turning the volume down.

‘Ace voice!' shouted Earl. What a great guy. The track came to an end and I prepared myself for ‘Shake It Off' by Taylor Swift—not exactly disco, but a great dance track for all ages. Except that a heavy-metal tune suddenly blared out of the player. Huh? Everyone—even the Joneses—pulled faces and I hurriedly fast-forwarded the music, but that's all that played for the rest of the CD. I took out the disc. It didn't look any different. My heart sank. I'd left my other disco mixes back home, while trying to keep my luggage for the holiday to a minimum.

I turned around to my audience, a quarter of whom had already left.

‘What a shambles,' muttered Mr Peppard as he and his wife stalked past. You'd think, as regular customers, they'd have been more loyal.

Earl Jones took Pearl off his lap, stood up and came over. ‘Anything I can do to help, love?'

I shrugged. ‘It's a mystery. This is one of my most popular CDs. Nothing like this has happened before.'

‘Ah well, never mind,' said Shirl, who came over, carrying Pearl. ‘These things happen. We enjoyed ourselves. My little one adores singing, you know.'

‘I'll give Pearl some tips, before you leave White Rocks. Let her use the mike. We can have fun singing scales.'

Shirl's face broke into a smile ‘That's kind of you. She'd love that. And try not to worry about tonight. I reckon most of us guests are knackered after travelling here today. They'll probably be grateful for an earlier night than planned.'

I made my apologies to the guests—none of whom looked grateful as they filed out or headed to the bar. Earl asked reception for a screwdriver, and they eventually found one in the handyman's cupboard. He insisted on staying behind, as Shirl left to put a very sleepy Pearl to bed. He wanted to take a quick look at the mike. The hand piece was fine, so he dismantled the socket.

‘Look.' He held it out in his chubby hand. ‘The wiring's messed up. Never seen anything like it.'

‘Well, it's not the newest piece of equipment.' I sighed, so having wanted tonight to be a roaring success for the Maddocks. ‘Thanks, Earl.'

He skimmed a hand over his balding head. ‘Chin up. Early days. We enjoyed the evening.' He handed me the screwdriver and socket and went on his way.

Yes, but not enough to finish your cocktails, I thought and headed over to their table. I picked up one of the glasses, smelt the liquid inside and shrugged. Perhaps today was just jinxed. At least Tremain hadn't been around to see the disaster.

‘Bad luck,' said Lucas. ‘Come on. Take the weight of your feet for a moment.' He led me over to the comfortable chairs and, with our backs to reception, we sat down. ‘I might have some news that will cheer you up.' He beamed. What a dazzling smile. Such dark, rakish looks but … nope. Nothing. My heart beat steadily. I didn't long to press myself against that athletic chest. Instead, I imagined being wrapped up in Tremain's solid embrace. ‘Izzy's just been speaking to me—about something she forgot to mention when we were out, Saturday night.'

My brow furrowed.

‘She said you were going to a wedding in a couple of weeks and needed a plus-one.'

Oh … crap. I remember now. I'd been distracted by trying to work out a way to shadow Tremain on Saturday and Izzy had rambled on about mentioning the wedding to Lucas—said she could do it subtly, without
letting on that the invite was only because he looked like Poldark. I hadn't really listened therefore she didn't know I was having doubts about this dashing man.

‘Not much fun, is it, going to that sort of event on your own? I'd be happy to oblige. I mean, that's what friends are for, right? Helping each other out. And by then I could probably do with a break from this place.'

‘No! Really! I mean, I couldn't possibly …'

He grinned and … oh dear. Actually knelt on the floor before me. He took my hand. ‘Lovely Kate, I would be honoured to accompany you to your friend's wedding.' He kissed my fingers.

What could I say now? Sorry. I'm not going. Because I've met someone who makes my heart sing as loudly as my voice?

‘Kate?' said a loud voice from behind me. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. ‘I believe there was some sort of problem with the electrics.'

I turned around and looked up. Tremain. Face expressionless.

‘Catch you later, babe,' said Lucas with wink. He got to his feet and headed off.

I stood up. ‘Tremain. It's not what you think. You see …'

‘On my way over I heard disgruntled customers talking—the mike and your CD didn't work, right?'

He went to move away, but I put my hand on his shoulder. He shook it off.

‘Don't be like this!' I said. ‘Lucas … You see tonight I was going to say to him that …'

Tremain held up his hand. ‘It's no business of mine, Kate. It's not as if you and I are a couple. I'm sure Lucas will make the perfect plus-one for this wedding or whatever it is I heard you talking about. Anyone else might be a little … complicated. I hope my antics over the weekend provided you both with a good laugh.'

‘Don't do that.'

‘What?'

‘Put words in my mouth. Push me away.' I took his hand firmly. ‘And assume things you don't know anything about.'

His fingers slid out of mine and forced a laugh. ‘Honestly, Kate. Thanks for helping me through a difficult couple of days but—Well. This is your holiday. I get it. You just want a bit of fun.'

I folded my arms. ‘Right. So you think I'm the two-timing type? I cancelled my date with him. You think I risked pneumonia just to get a snog?'

‘Does Lucas know what happened between you and me?'

‘No, you see I haven't had time but—'

Tremain shook his head and stalked off.

I didn't follow. What was the point? The more I made excuses the worse it all sounded. I sat down again as my stomach cramped into tight knots. A couple of hours later, it still hurt and, having muttered
something to Izzy about being tired, I went to take refuge in my bedroom.

‘You OK?' she said.

I forced a smile. ‘Yes. Just frustrated about the mike and everything going wrong this evening.' I stood up from the sofa and yawned. ‘Good movie. Nothing beats
Bridesmaids
when you're in need of a laugh.'

Izzy stood up and gave me a hug. I guessed she was doing that mind-reading thing again; she knew I was down, but knew better than to push me to find out exactly why.

‘And how about, to end the perfect evening, I make two hot chocolates?' she said and ran a hand through her short hair.

‘With marshmallows on top?'

Izzy pretended to look shocked. ‘Is there any other way to drink it? Please. That question is sacrilegious.'

‘Thanks all the same, Izzy, but I really am shattered. Think I'll go straight to bed.' I swallowed. ‘You're the best. This holiday … it's done me good.' I cleared my throat and smiled. ‘And, as a thank-you, perhaps in a day or two, when things have settled down, how about I finally book us a couple of spa treatments? For starters, I bet we could both do with a massage.'

She gave me the thumbs-up and headed towards the kitchen while I went into my room and shut the door. I gazed up at the red heart wind spinner, with the realisation that I hadn't thought much at all about
Johnny for a couple of days. And . . and I felt all right with that. No guilt-tripping. No memories flooding back. No yearning to friend Johnny again on Facebook and have a one-way chat.

I stood up. What a mess. Yet mess was good, right? It proved you were living. And whether I left here single or not, it didn't matter. I knew that the moment had come to say goodbye to Johnny and move forward, just as me or as part of another couple.

I stood on the bed and took down the spinner. It glinted under the lampshade. I sat on the bed and gazed at it on my lap. Slowly, I pushed its metal curves back to the flat position and then ran my hand over it. A tear trickled down my cheek and, vision blurry, I lifted it to my mouth and kissed it as gently as I could. Then, with a sniff, I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed, lifted the lid and placed the wind spinner inside. After one last look, I pushed it away, under the bed. Then I wiped my eyes, cleaned my teeth, changed and got into bed.

CHAPTER 15

After a fall-out in the playground, I'd sometimes been blanked, but Tremain took blanking to a whole new level—forget sending someone to Coventry, it was as if he'd sent me to the International Space Station. Two days later, on Wednesday, he'd still avoided all my attempts to chat and explain my position. Lucas didn't help by continually popping up by my side, always full of questions about Kensa and Tremain's latest plans, searching for any extra feedback I might have received, outside of the staff meetings, on how the rebranding was going. I admired his enthusiasm. It must have been hard catering for the tastes of us normal folk, after years of serving people who knew that scampi is actually langoustine—one thing, if nothing else, that I have learnt from my time with my Poldark lookalike.

Take today. Tremain and I were both travelling in a hired mini-coach to take a group of guests into Port Penny. Lucas came up with the idea yesterday. He had
a fisherman friend who could offer a decent rate to take ten holidaymakers out to sea. Tremain agreed to trial it and hastily spread word amongst the guests to sign up. If it was successful, then it would become a regular excursion. Kensa asked if I would accompany her son. Her eyes looked lined. She didn't need to say why. I knew. Since our argument, Tremain had gone into himself again.

Now, as he drove and I sat in the front passenger seat, the metre between us could have been a mile. If I asked a question he simply replied, ‘I'm concentrating on the road.' I'd given up. When we'd clambered on the white twenty-seater van, before the guests arrived, he muttered a few details of the day out, but hardly lifted his head from paperwork.

We pulled up into the pottery shop's car park. Apparently, Tremain had rung ahead and, as a favour, the owner let him park there. And then … Ah OK. Perhaps I'd been a bit rash. While the guests got off, begging for a quick look at the local ceramics before we headed towards the harbour, Tremain sat down next to me. He slid off my sunglasses and looked me straight in the eye.

‘Sorry. For being an arse.'

‘Oh. Um …'

‘Seriously. Treating you like that after you'd been there for me, on the beach. There's no excuse.' He shrugged. ‘Your private life is just that—private—so you and Lucas … whatever. It's fine by me.'

‘It is?'

‘Yep. Of course. He's surprised me, actually, this last week, working extra hours. He's always asking Kensa if there is anything he can do to help. Perhaps Lucas is one of those people who only show their best side in a crisis.'

Ex-army Tremain sounded as if he'd had experience of meeting people like that.

‘You and him … go for it. Life's too short, right?'

I swallowed. ‘But us … the golf course.'

His face flushed. ‘I guess we both got carried away with the emotion of the moment. Plus, we were tired. Wet. Both those things can skew judgement, no?'

He gave me a penetrating gaze making me wish my sunglasses still covered my eyes. Could he see the truth? I hoped not, because clearly his version of events was different to mine. My chest ached. So that's all our kiss had been to him—a misjudged decision.

‘Friends again?' he said and held out his hand.

My fingers curled around his. I longed to hold tighter. Pull him near. Not to let go. Feel those soft lips on mine. Lose myself in his closeness.

‘Of course. Friends.'