A Perfect Cornish Escape by Phillipa Ashley Page 0,62
family, along with some of the gallery’s favourite customers, local media and townspeople from the festival organising committee.
She recognised several of the faces and they greeted her like an old friend. Having had no dinner, Tiff discreetly hoovered up as many canapés as she could get away with and sipped her Prosecco. The artist was a lady of at least seventy, renowned for her abstract pastels and oils of the Cornish landscape. Her silver hair was enhanced with rosy tones and she wore a leather jacket that Tiff recognised as vintage Belstaff.
Tiff enjoyed doing the interview with her, vowing to choose a print, even though she still had no idea when she’d ever be able to return to her own flat to hang it. She certainly couldn’t keep living off Marina’s hospitality – even though she was paying her way, Marina would want her own space sooner or later.
After the artist gave a brief speech, the chatter and Prosecco-chugging resumed, while orders were placed for some of the originals and prints.
Tiff wandered over to one of the paintings, admiring the dreamy take on a low-tide morning at Pedn Vounder beach … She adored the view and had made more than one detour to gaze down at the white sands and turquoise waters while in the far west. That was the one she would love for her wall. She wondered if she really did dare indulge in a small print … perhaps she could buy one for Marina as a birthday gift.
‘I’ll admit – that’s a stunner.’
She swung round and came face to face with Dirk. He looked smoking hot in a white shirt and black jeans. For a moment, Tiff was stunned herself.
‘Um. Yes. It is.’ She recovered and waved her glass in his direction. ‘Dirk. Is there any reason why I keep bumping into you? Or rather you keep bumping into me?’
‘No idea what you’re talking about. We live two doors away from each other, if you hadn’t forgotten.’
‘How could I?’ she said in honeyed tones. ‘And yet, here’s the thing. I can understand why you might have come into the post office when I was there. Twice,’ she added. ‘Or that your car needed fuel at the exact same time as mine. I can even take the fact that you just happened to be here tonight for this gallery launch. I know you like the arts, albeit you did let slip to me that you hated abstract—’
‘I never said I hated it.’
‘I think the words: “I’d rather watch every episode of Hollyoaks than waste my time on some of that modern crap” were used.’
‘Shh.’ He glanced around him. ‘I was being ironic.’
She raised an eyebrow while trying not to laugh. ‘So, what were you doing in the Quayside Boutique yesterday? Interested in their new range of Kurt Geiger mules? Or was it the Melissa Odabash bikinis that arrived last week? Anyone would think you’d been stalking me.’
‘Erm … oh, screw it. I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Aha, I see.’ She eyed him critically. ‘Then why didn’t you?’
He opened his mouth to retort then huffed. ‘OK. I surrender. I’ve wanted to talk to you about what happened after the lifeboat drill for ages but I chickened out at the café and again in the boutique.’ He paused before going on, almost as if he was plucking up courage. ‘Here goes. Do you think you could find it in your heart to forgive what I said to you?’
Tiff raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. ‘Well now. That would depend on whether I actually have a heart, which you strongly implied I didn’t.’
‘I was harsh, and I made some sweeping assumptions. But I’d like the chance to know you better. To know the real Tiff.’
‘You took your time about it. You could have knocked the door or texted. WhatsApp, a call?’
‘There never seemed to be a perfect moment. Or I didn’t know how to say what I want to say to you. I never know what your reaction’s going to be.’ He lowered his voice further, struggling to keep the frustration out of it. ‘Look, I know I infuriate the hell out of you, but I also really like you. You make me laugh, you keep me on my toes, and you make me think. I think about you all the time.’
Tiff suppressed a shiver. A good shiver that made her toes curl in a delicious way. She whispered in his ear, drinking in the wonderful scent of him. ‘I never