is, then.’
It was surprising how quickly she’d recovered, Tiff mused, when Dirk opened his front door and gestured to her to go ahead of him. Her legs still weren’t quite steady and she didn’t feel like eating just yet, but she was more than ready for ginger tea.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he said, and went out into the small hallway and through to what she assumed was the kitchen, from the sounds of the kettle boiling and cupboards opening and closing.
Left alone, she got up to look at some prints hanging above the fireplace. They were a mix of scenes of Cornwall in all its moods, from sunny to wild, but her heart sank when she saw her reflection in the glass of one stormy seascape. God, what a sight she was! Her hair was wild and stiff with salt, her face pale and devoid of any make-up.
He was back in a few minutes with a tray with mug of herbal tea for her, coffee for himself and a plate of ginger biscuits.
‘Try one,’ he urged, offering the plate. ‘They’re Cornish fairings, the sugar and ginger will do you good. It’s been a long time since breakfast.’
‘Thanks.’ She nibbled at the biscuit, deciding to see how her tummy responded before eating more, but the warm tea was soothing and her appetite began to return. She selected another biscuit.
‘I can rustle up some proper food, if you want?’
Her stomach rumbled. She couldn’t deny she was now hungry, and she wanted to spend more time with Dirk.
‘Cheese and mushroom omelette with salad?’
‘That sounds good …’ she grinned wickedly. ‘Though I kind of expected you to put me to work in the galley.’
‘I think you’ve fulfilled your auction duties for the day and besides, you haven’t tasted my cooking yet. That might be part of the forfeit.’
She laughed, and glimpsed a smile that told her Dirk had enjoyed making her laugh.
‘Join me in the kitchen?’ he said, somehow making the request sound absolutely filthy – or was that only in her fevered mind? She doubted that he felt the same crackle of static between them, or that his pulse hammered away when they accidentally touched, or that he also lay awake thinking about her.
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll even lend a hand.’
Dirk whipped up the eggs while Tiff grated some Gruyere and chopped up some mushrooms. Eventually, he divided a pretty passable omelette onto two plates, and they ate it at the kitchen table with a salad and some sourdough. The table was positioned in an extension to the rear of the kitchen, which had obviously been recently done, with its bifold doors and roof light flooding the dining area with light. She could see out to the fence between his elderly neighbour’s garden and Marina’s place.
They chatted about the lifeboat crew while they ate and he seemed to relax and open up when talking about his work. She longed to record him now his guard was down a little, but didn’t dare. He’d be bound to clam up immediately if he thought she was going to write about him and she didn’t want to do anything that would stem his obvious passion for his vocation. She lapped up every word about the incidents he’d been involved in … some funny, some uplifting, some tragic.
‘It’s the ones you can’t save that stay with you …’ he said. ‘They haunt you.’
Tiff paused, reaching for the salad bowl.
Clarity exploded in her mind as she finally remembered the story the Herald had run, previous year. The picture they’d chosen had been taken after a tragic incident at a Thames lifeboat station where Dirk had been working – however, the photo had nothing to do with the story that accompanied it.
The newspaper had chosen it to go with a piece about Dirk – or rather, about his ex-wife. The Herald had published a series of stories on Amira, a successful actress in a long-running medical soap. Dirk’s name had been mentioned in some of the articles – and not always in a flattering light.
Tiff’s hands were not quite steady as she scooped more salad onto her plate with the wooden servers. Should she stay silent or confess that she’d come across him before?
Should she carry on deceiving him or be honest?
She toyed with her salad until she looked up and found him watching her.
‘Do you miss London?’ he asked, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil in her mind.
Caught off guard, she answered, ‘Do you?’
He held her gaze for a second