A Perfect Cornish Escape by Phillipa Ashley Page 0,74

public place. She was grateful for his discretion and yet filled with sadness too. They shouldn’t feel held back by what people thought – but now wasn’t the right moment. ‘If you’re sure you’re OK.’

The band started their second set and they sat back down on the rug. The music was upbeat, and some people got up to dance on the sand as the sun went down and the sky was ablaze with crimson, orange and purple. Lachlan’s hand was close to hers, but he made no attempt to hold it or slip his arm around her like some of the other couples. Craig’s comments were obviously playing on his mind. They stayed a while longer, but as twilight fell, she shivered. Drew’s band were playing a ballad.

‘Shall we go home after this one?’ Lachlan whispered in her ear.

‘Yes, it’s getting cold and I’d like to walk home over the coast path before it’s too dark to be safe. We don’t want to end up being rescued, do we?’

‘No.’

She realised what she’d said. ‘Oops. Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Smiling, he held out a hand and his warm fingers closed around hers to pull her up from the sand. He held onto her longer than necessary and they exchanged a glance. She longed for more of that contact; it had been so very long since she’d felt that jolt of pleasure and need when a man had touched her.

After packing away, they walked back around the headland, down into the town. Marina was lost in her thoughts of the past and the future.

‘It’s natural to be sad on a day like this. It’s OK to go easy on yourself.’

‘Did you?’ She glanced up. ‘Go easy on yourself, I mean.’

‘Not often enough but I’m learning to. Coming here to Porthmellow has reminded me that you can’t run away from your problems. I have bad days still, but the good times are beginning to outweigh the tough.’

Marina dared to hope that she’d helped with his recovery, even in the short time he’d known her. They passed a fishing boat in the harbour: the one that Nate had crewed with Craig, on and off. Marina could understand why his friend had been upset but that gave him no right to confront her and make her feel guilty about seeing Lachlan. Not that she was seeing him yet, not ‘officially’.

‘I’m glad you’ve made peace with yourself,’ Lachlan said when they reached the lane where their row of cottages was situated.

‘I have. Thanks for talking to me about all this,’ Marina replied.

Lachlan’s eyes glinted in the darkness and his voice was soft. ‘Good friends can talk about anything, I hope.’

‘Yes. They can,’ she said

‘Good night for now. Thank you for this evening.’ He leaned in and kissed her cheek, but it went no further.

She let herself into the cottage, wondering if his interpretation of friends was the same as hers.

Chapter Twenty-Three

June ended with a heatwave, so Tiff had resorted to a floaty dress from one of the local boutiques. She’d almost considered flip-flops but checked herself in time. Instead, she purchased a pair of strappy low-heeled sandals that were cool but smart enough for work.

The car was sizzling every time she got into it after one of her client visits and she’d bought a fan for her desk in the eaves of the office. Every time she caught herself longing for the air-conditioned tower that housed the Herald, she glanced out of the window and saw the harbour bustling with masts, and the sea sparkling in the distance.

In the time it used to take to reach the coffee area at the London newspaper office, she could skip outside and buy an ice-cream from the quayside kiosk. Come to think of it … Tiff picked up her bag and trotted out onto the harbourside.

The lure of an ice-cold treat was too much to resist, and she joined the queue at the kiosk. When her turn came, she felt very virtuous when she refused the clotted cream and chocolate flake and took a lick of the vanilla cone. The ice-cream was made at a local farm and, on this red-hot day, it tasted like nectar. Murmuring hello to a couple of people she recognised, Tiff started to walk slowly back to the office, savouring her single scoop.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of wind and wings brushed her face.

She let out a scream as her cone was snatched from her hand by a seagull the size of a pterodactyl.