A Perfect Cornish Escape by Phillipa Ashley Page 0,13

gratefully. ‘I should have known better, and it could be even worse. At least I do have a job – of sorts – now.’

‘Working for Cream of Cornish won’t be that bad,’ Marina said.

‘You’re right. I’m lucky they let me freelance for them at all. Thanks for asking your friend to take a chance on me.’

‘She was pretty gobsmacked when I told her you were coming down here for the summer and looking for work. She didn’t think she could afford you.’

Tiff laughed. ‘I’m happy to take the going freelance rate.’

‘I think she’s a little bit scared of you.’

‘Moi? Why on earth? I’m harmless!’ Tiff sniffed the air. ‘Wow, that smells amazing.’

‘Oh, yes. It’ll be done!’ Marina leapt up.

Tiff got up too. ‘I’m coming to help you serve it up and I’m doing the washing up.’

They sat around the small table in the dining area at the end of the sitting room. It overlooked a small patch of garden from where there was an uninterrupted view of the sea. However, on this cool late April evening, which would probably be warm enough for drinks at a pavement café in central London, the wind was cold and biting. Marina said she’d light a fire after dinner, but for the time being, they sat at the table, enjoying the pancetta-wrapped hake, which was topped with a spicy tomato sauce and served with new potatoes and samphire.

Tiff helped herself to a spoonful of samphire dressed with lemony butter.

‘Wow. Samphire. Is it from a local fishmonger?’

‘Actually, I got it from the bar on the other side of the town.’

‘The bar?’

Marina smiled. ‘Loe Bar. It grows at the back of the beach. And the potatoes and fish are local too.’

Tiff sighed in pleasure as the hake melted in her mouth. ‘I can see it’s not as uncivilised here as I thought …’ she said during bites.

Marina laughed.

‘On that note, I met some of the local characters on my way here.’

‘Already?’

‘Yes, Troy and Evie, who I vaguely remember from some of my holiday visits. She was a local teacher, wasn’t she?’

‘Mm. Mrs Carman. Been retired for years though.’

‘Nice lady. Funny too. Her husband asked me to deliver some leaflets for a friend. They hardly know me but they took it on trust that if I was a relative of you then I must be OK.’

‘You can relax here, Tiff. You can rely on people.’

She smiled. ‘We had some good times here, didn’t we? It’ll be fun to revisit them,’ Tiff said.

‘What, ogling surfers? Perhaps I should be more discreet these days.’

The Muscadet seeped further into Tiff’s veins. She waggled her glass. ‘Remember the time I got you drunk on cider at that beach party and had to half carry you home. Your mum and dad were furious.’

‘I was only sixteen!’ Marina laughed.

‘I’ve always been notorious. I bet people are gossiping about me already. I’m probably already known as the snooty Londoner who wore stupid shoes and fell over on the harbour.’

Marina nodded and grinned. ‘Some people might remember you but I doubt very much they will have any inkling about why you lost your job. Soon, you’ll melt into the background and be no more interesting than fishing quotas. Although, saying that, they’re quite a big issue here … hmm … you know what I mean.’ Marina topped up her glass with the dregs of the bottle. ‘Unless, of course, you’re going to give them something juicy to talk about?’

‘No way.’ Tiff wagged her finger. ‘I’ll keep my head down and live a blameless life henceforth. Write about the opening of the new dental surgery, extol the virtues of seaweed body wraps and eulogise about the local eateries, even if the food is crap.’

‘Actually, Gabe Mathias’s new place is pretty amazing.’

‘Is it now?’ She raised her eyebrows in interest. ‘I had heard he left London to run a little place down here … Hmm. I must try it out sometime.’

‘He lives just up the road in Clifftop House,’ Marina said. ‘But don’t get any ideas. He’s engaged to a mate of mine, Sam Lovell, and while there was a story in that once, it’s all in the past now. They’ve gone through enough without someone raking up muck about their private lives.’ Wow, the warning in Marina’s voice was real.

‘I wouldn’t dream of muckraking.’

‘Good. Stick to the dentists and body wraps.’

‘I won’t be digging up dirt on your friends and neighbours, I swear! I want to be useful, you know, integrate closely with the local community.’