A Perfect Cornish Escape by Phillipa Ashley Page 0,5
her rescue.
‘We have to go, Troy, or we’ll miss the arrival of the birthday girl.’
‘Girl? Daisy Seddon is eighty-five, Evie!’
‘She can still be a girl. We all deserve to be girly from time to time, don’t we?’ Evie chuckled, sharing the joke with Tiff, who warmed to her all the more.
The chimes of the clock tower rang through the air, and Evie let out a squeak of horror. ‘Oh, it’s already seven. We’ll be late for this birthday party. Come on.’
‘Yes, best be off,’ Troy agreed. ‘Oh, Tiff, are you off up to Coastguard Terrace now?’
‘Yes …’
‘Would you mind taking this up to Dirk ’n’ Stormy’s for me? It’s on your way to Marina’s place.’
Evie’s eyes crinkled in delight. ‘Dirk ’n’ Stormy, my love. Dirk Meadows, he’s the lifeboat mechanic, you see. Don’t worry, only post it, if you don’t mind.’
‘Right …’ Tiff didn’t see at all. ‘OK, I get the Dirk part … I presume the “stormy” is because he’s on the lifeboat crew?’
Evie giggled. ‘Oh, Lord no. It’s because he can be a bit up and down. Tumultuous, you might say.’
‘A moody bugger,’ Troy put in.
‘Oh, go on, Troy, he’s not that bad.’ Evie smirked. ‘He’s always more than civil to me and he fixed our car for nothing. Kept cutting out, it did.’
‘It was the turbo sensor. The local garage was flummoxed and our son was in Scotland on business or he’d have done it. Dirk stepped in; what he doesn’t know about a marine engine you couldn’t fit on the back of a stamp,’ Troy said, in wonder.
‘And there’s plenty of women who’d be more than ready to put up with his moods if they could only get close enough. He’s a bit of a hunk,’ Evie added mischievously.
‘He needs a shave more often. Scruffy bugger,’ Troy said, with a raucous cackle that echoed around the harbour.
‘He lives two doors down from Marina’s place at number nine. It’s a little white cottage near the end of the row,’ Evie said. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind putting it through his door, it would save us hauling our ancient bones back up there. It’s a pack of flyers for the fundraising day we’re holding in aid of the lifeboats and the Wave Watchers.’
‘The Wave Watchers? You mean the volunteer group who run the coastal lookout station?’ Tiff said.
‘Yes, Marina’s lot,’ Evie replied.
‘Of course I’ll deliver them,’ said Tiff, figuring that by posting a few leaflets, she could help out Marina and get herself down in everyone’s good books as a nice, helpful person.
‘Grand. Mind you, go easy in those high heels. It’s steep and slippery.’ Troy grimaced at Tiff’s boots as if they were glass slippers.
Tiff hesitated then smiled. She wanted to fit in, and anyway, she instinctively liked Evie and even Troy had a weird kind of rustic charm. ‘I’ll be extra careful.’
‘Thanks, you’re a star. See you around very soon, then.’
Off they went, leaving Tiff gingerly making her way up some steep steps to the top of the town. Her boots were wet through and the soles were as good as ice skates on the cobbles. She made a mental note to buy something more practical as soon as possible – not only because she’d break an ankle if she didn’t, but also to make herself more unobtrusive.
The suede boots, a well-loved sample from a shoe designer, were a vestige of the old Tiffany, one she couldn’t quite bear to part with, but she might have to resort to trainers or flip-flops from now on. Or, God forbid, Crocs. The idea sent a shiver of delighted horror through her. She shuddered at the thought of herself in chunky rubber clogs. She wasn’t sure she could go that far.
Puffing like a steam train, she dragged herself and her case up the steps between the houses, finally emerging on a lane high above Porthmellow. She paused to get her breath; no amount of skipping up and down the stairs in the Tube could have prepared her for the lung-busting climb from harbour to top – and no amount of imagination on the train here could have prepared her for the view spread out below her.
It was picture-book perfect, and luckily for her the rain was clearing away to the west. The harbour was unusual, with two square basins – an inner and an outer. Three of its sides were lined with pastel-coloured cottages, gift shops and eateries.