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turned to her. ‘I’m sorry, Pru. I may have looked as if I was making a play for Frankie. It’s just that he is such a kind person and I was at a bit of a low ebb. Lonely. Can you understand?’

Pru reached out and touched Francis on the arm. ‘Turns out I needed a wake-up call. I’d lost sight of what a good man I had.’

‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Belinda,’ said Dorothy, ‘but how can you be sure that Henry’s your father and not this James fellow?’

‘I’d be happy to take a DNA test.’

Dorothy snorted indignantly: ‘We are not the Jeremy Kyle show.’

Ignoring his wife, Henry announced, ‘That will not be necessary. As far as I am concerned I am your father, Belinda. And Emily.’ She looked at him. ‘Would you do me the honour of becoming my second granddaughter?’

*

Second tragic drowning at cursed beach house, said the headline in the local paper.

It has been confirmed that a man in his forties has tragically drowned in the old smugglers’ cave beneath historic Atlantic House on Treviscum Bay. The victim lost his life trying to rescue his teenage daughter, who had been trapped on a narrow ledge of the cave by the rising tide. By horrible coincidence, the tragedy happened on the anniversary of a previous drowning at the same location: fourteen-year-old Claire Clovelly perished in August 1978 after hiding in the cave following a family argument. Her heartbroken family never returned to the house, which remained abandoned for ten years until it was sold to the current owners.

A horrible trick of fate – or is there something more at work? Local legend has it that a dying smuggler placed a curse on Atlantic House after he was stabbed and left to drown in the cave by the owner, Sir Rupert Trelawney. Sir Rupert was subsequently arrested but released without charge following the intervention of his wealthy friends, who created an alibi for him. He went on to become Member of Parliament for the county, but had served only a month when he was found dead, apparently of a broken neck, at the foot of the stone steps leading down to the smugglers’ cave.

*

Greg’s funeral service was held in Trevay Church.

It was a simple service, touchingly conducted by the Vicar of Trevay, Louise.

Henry paid tribute to Greg’s selfless heroism in trying to save his beloved daughter. Abi, still on crutches, insisted on paying her own tribute. Supported by her grandfather and mother, she said simply, ‘He was the best dad in the world,’ before placing a small but beautifully crafted model sailing boat on his coffin.

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Snow was falling gently on the churchyard, muffling the footsteps of the small wedding party.

Henry was looking very handsome in a handmade tweed suit woven in the softest of heathery green wool. His black suede waistcoat, snow-white shirt and paisley cravat were Dorothy’s choice.

The bride, wearing an Alice Temperley lace wedding dress in a subtle cream that brought out the colour of her skin and eyes, was carrying a bouquet of mistletoe.

The Reverend Louise was waiting for them at the ancient door of Trevay Church.

‘Welcome, welcome, on this happiest of days!’ she said, a huge smile creasing her face.

The bride and groom walked down the aisle together, with Emily and Abi as bridesmaids.

The congregation was small. Pru and Francis. Connie and Jem. And Belinda, of course.

The months since Greg’s death had been difficult for Connie. Her main focus had been Abi. Painful as Greg’s betrayal had been, Connie was careful to avoid all mention of it. Abi didn’t need to hear about his failings; it was better to let her remember the father she’d loved as a hero. And for all that he had been a philanderer and a lousy husband, there was no questioning his devotion to Abi. So Connie kept her feelings to herself – except on those occasions when she ran to her sisters for support, and vented the hurt and rage she couldn’t acknowledge when Abi was around.

As her parents exchanged their vows, Connie bowed her head when it came to the line about forsaking all others. She could still recall her own wedding day, still hear Greg’s voice intoning that vow. Living without him was hard, but living with the truth was harder.

It required an act of will, but Connie pushed all the negativity away. This was a special day – and one to celebrate. It wasn’t every day you got to go to your own parents’