A Perfect Cornish Escape by Phillipa Ashley Page 0,101

empathy. ‘You could tell her that when you see her. She needs her friends and neighbours to give her some sense of normality and kindness.’

His tone darkened. ‘I’ll chuck those leeches in the sea if I see them bothering her!’

She had to smile. ‘A very noble sentiment but perhaps not the best way of avoiding further publicity. Besides, have you forgotten I’m one of the “leeches” myself?’

‘No, you’re not. You’re doing the story for Marina’s sake and this is what you do.’

‘Yes, it’s what I do,’ she said wearily.

He nodded. ‘Let’s have a drink. I made a cassoulet for dinner. I’ve been hoarding a good bottle of Crozes Hermitages and now seems as good a time as any.’

Tiff sat down to the meal and the excellent wine. It was great to have someone cook for her but she felt very low. It might be only that she was wrung out emotionally and physically, or that the days were shortening, although she couldn’t deny she was apprehensive about the reaction to her article and the effect on Marina. She’d hate it if the story made things worse, not better.

The following day, Tiff’s exclusive appeared in the Post. By eleven a.m. that morning, she’d had to stop the car in an Asda car park on her way to do an ad feature on the tenth anniversary of World of Hot Tubs in Falmouth, because her phone had been going crazy.

There were calls and messages from several editors, including Yvette Buttler, the editor-in-chief of the Post itself. She knew what they might be about, and although she’d expected some reaction to the story, she had never anticipated this. Tiff phoned Yvette back and found herself with an offer of a job covering maternity leave for their features editor, with a view to a permanent position at the newspaper if all went well.

‘Call me when you’ve had chance to think about it,’ Yvette said, which really meant that Tiff should snatch her hand off.

She drove home, pleased for once that she was stuck behind a potato lorry, as it gave her time to think.

How ironic it was. What a shitty world this could be at times. She’d been desperate for a break in London, but she never would have wished things to happen this way. Now she’d profited from Marina’s misfortune and felt sick to her stomach. She pulled up in the parking spot next to Marina’s garage, laid her head on the headrest and prayed for forgiveness.

Everything she’d wanted, hoped for, a mere six months ago was hers: a dream job, a chance to return to London, and the vindication.

Redemption and reward were laid out in front of her. All she had to do was take them.

She took a deep breath and called Yvette back.

Chapter Thirty-Five

There was a hint of yellow in the trees when Marina returned home from her parents’ house the Saturday after her story had been published. A few leaves were floating in the harbour and had piled up on the slipway. September had crept up on Porthmellow while she’d been dealing with the turmoil in her own life.

Normally at this time of year, she’d have been in college to prepare for the new term but, instead, she’d been on compassionate leave dealing with the fallout of the past. She’d decided to stay with her parents when the article appeared to avoid any more press attention, and to her huge relief, there were no longer any photographers or reporters hanging around her house.

She’d not spoken with Lachlan while she’d been away. They’d withdrawn from each other, like the tides ebbing away; clearly, he’d taken her at her word to give her space. She’d like to say she was ready to move in his direction, but that wasn’t yet true.

She was still overwhelmed by the shock of finding Nate and the fact that Lachlan had interfered – however well intentioned his actions were. She was still in survival mode. The past few days of hiding away had made her feel that her life had been snatched away again, and she felt she needed to claw back a semblance of normality.

Steeling herself, she decided to go into town and have a coffee at the Harbour Café, a familiar environment. Most of the customers were holidaymakers, pensioners or people in walking boots. She recognised a couple of faces, including Drew and Chloe who smiled and then went back to their coffees. Ellie Latham was working behind the counter and insisted on making her