A Perfect Cornish Escape

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘Are all your family and friends still up in Scotland?’ she asked, picking her words carefully, wondering if there had been a partner.

  ‘My parents and my sister live in Dumfries. Some of my friends tried to persuade me to stay, but most accepted I wanted to move on. They’re used to people passing in and out of their lives, that’s part of being in the Services.’

  Marina didn’t think she’d ever get used to the constant change but didn’t say so.

  ‘So, thanks for cutting me some slack …’ he said, gazing at her thoughtfully. ‘How are you so together? Despite what you’ve been through, you got up from rock bottom and started the Wave Watchers and you hold down your job at the college. I admire your spirit, Marina.’

  ‘You’ll find your own equivalent of the Wave Watchers.’

  ‘Only if I go looking for it. Right now, I just want to keep a low profile.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Also known as hiding away from the world.’

  ‘Yet you came to the station to apologise.’ And he had chosen her – and tonight – to unburden himself, she thought.

  ‘Aye, you’re right – but that’s because it’s you. Not everyone and anyone. There’s a world of difference.’

  She laughed. ‘You hardly know me.’

  ‘Not yet … that’s why I asked you here this evening.’ He put his empty glass down and leaned forward. ‘My instincts are telling me that it was a good idea.’

  Marina smiled. ‘Mine too …’

  She was pleased he felt able to open up to her, but she would have to be patient if she wanted to know more.

  Her phone pinged with a WhatsApp message and, while Lachlan was in the kitchen, she glanced at it. It was Tiff.

  How are you getting on with Rob Roy? I have had *the* most intriguing time with Mr Dirk ’n’ Stormy. Tell you more tomorrow.

  Marina was surprised to see that it was eleven o’clock.

  ‘Lachlan. I’ve realised the time. I need to be up early for college in the morning,’ she said, getting up as he walked in from the kitchen.

  ‘Eleven?’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘I’d no idea. I’ll not keep you from your bed any longer,’ he said.

  What a shame, thought Marina, unable to banish the image of Lachlan keeping her in his own bed.

  ‘I’ve a meeting in Truro first thing too. I’m sorry to have kept you out so late,’ he said.

  She hoped he’d put her rosy cheeks down to the whisky and the sun. ‘You haven’t. I’ve really enjoyed it.’

  ‘Me too. It won’t be the last time, I hope?’

  ‘I hope not,’ she said, and threw a smile at him as he stood in the doorway to see her off with a promise to call her to arrange ‘the next time’. She was buoyed by the optimism of his final statement.

  What a day this had been. For the first time, she’d truly begun to understand Lachlan, and, for the first time, she’d seriously begun to think of a man who wasn’t Nate as something more than a friend. It felt as if they’d both taken a step forward into a brave new world.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tiff woke up in Dirk’s bed – again. Since their gallery encounter, they’d made up for lost time by spending almost every night together and there was no sign of the passion wearing off. She thought about him in every spare moment she had and many that she didn’t.

  Tiff walked her fingers up his torso and rested them on his chest. He really was magnificent – honed but not in a cover model way, with the perfect amount of chest hair. She could even forgive the nipple ring. In fact, it had become a key feature in her fantasies about him, which were extensive and detailed.

  Not that he was ever going to know that, of course.

  He kissed her. ‘You’re a health and safety hazard. I dropped a wrench the other day, thinking about what I wanted to do to you this evening.’

  She laughed. ‘I thought about you while I was having a tour of a clotted-cream factory.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Dirk gave her a long deep kiss.

  ‘It was hard to keep a straight face …’ Her stomach fluttered. ‘It’s a shame we can’t stay here forever.’

  ‘I’d probably drop dead with exhaustion if we did.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He groaned and shifted. ‘I have to get up. We open the lifeboat station every Saturday in the summer to get the tourists in …’

  ‘I’ll come with you, if you like?’

  ‘To the station? You’d be so bored.’

  ‘Try me. I can help. Make tea or something …’ The truth was she wanted to spend more time with him and if she had to go down to the lifeboat station to do it, she would.

  He thought for a few seconds. ‘Well, we always need people to help in the shop while we show visitors round the station.’

  ‘The shop? That sounds easy. I can do that if someone shows me how to work the till.’

  ‘You might regret it,’ Dirk said with an arch of the brows.

  Tiff laughed. ‘I might regret a lot of things, but I really don’t mind. Plus, I’m sure it’ll be more fun than last time I was at the station, being chucked into the Atlantic!’

  Several hours later, she was cursing inside while apologising profusely for not being able to give a young man from Stoke change for a twenty-pound note. She’d put it in the till but let the cash drawer close before fishing out his £9.50 change. Parminder, the retired pharmacist who was helping her in the shop, had gone to ‘answer the call of nature’ and she’d been alone for ten minutes. She’d barely glimpsed Dirk as he was so tied up in the boathouse itself.

  ‘I need that money for the car park,’ the customer grumbled, pointedly looking at his watch. ‘My ticket’s running out!’

  ‘I’m terribly sorry but there’s no one around to help …’ Tiff replied, desperately scanning the door through to the station itself. The place was packed with holidaymakers, queuing for tours and asking questions.

  Three other people had now joined the queue behind the impatient customer, their baskets full of jigsaws, tea towels and model boats.

  Struck by a sudden brainwave, Tiff grabbed her purse from her bag. ‘Here you are, I can give you some change.’ She managed to fish out some five-pound notes and handed it to him. ‘Here you go, forget the extra fifty pence.’ She’d have done anything to get rid of him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he muttered and stalked off.

  Two lavender-haired pensioners, obviously twins, reached the front of the queue, eagerly holding their debit cards up. ‘Do you do contactless?’ they trilled in unison.

  ‘Um …’ Tiff prayed for Parminder to return and almost squealed in delight when he reappeared. In a flash, he’d opened the till to sort out Tiff’s impromptu reimbursement of the car park guy.

  ‘Take it as a donation,’ she said, simply relieved to have an expert back.

  ‘I heard you had a baptism of fire in the shop,’ Dirk said later, over a glass of wine on the balcony at The Net Loft restaurant. It was a beautiful evening, with sunlight glinting off the harbour and yacht halyards clanking in the gentle breeze.

  ‘Better than a baptism of icy seawater,’ Tiff replied, enjoying the evening sun on her bare shoulders. ‘Although almost as stressful at times.’

  ‘Parminder told me you’d given someone change out of your own pocket.’

  ‘Only because I was desperate to get rid of him. I couldn’t get the bloody till to open.’

  He laughed. ‘I must admit I’d never have imagined you as a charity shop volunteer when I first saw you.’

  ‘Well, the day you see me in rubber clogs is the day you’ll know I’m beyond all hope.’

  ‘I think you’d look good even in rubber clogs,’ Dirk murmured.

  ‘Not as good as you would,’ Tiff flashed back.

  ‘I’d rather go overboard without a buoyancy aid,’ he growled.

  She chinked his glass. ‘Then we agree on one thing. No clogs.’

  She sipped her wine and it was really rather good. The skate wings that arrived
, with a lemon butter glaze, were delicious too, and Tiff couldn’t even fault the crushed potatoes, despite their associations with queuing on the narrow roads.

  Most of all, the company was delicious, and as the sun sank behind them, lighting up the harbour with pink rays, Tiff could imagine how she could stay here forever. She also noticed more than a few sidelong glances, mostly from women. In addition to her London-ness, she’d now added the far greater sin of having ‘snared’ Dirk Meadows. Except she hadn’t snared him, only temporarily invited him into her life.

  They lapsed into silence, gazing out over the boats, and Dirk’s hand crept over hers under the table. He squeezed her fingers and it felt so good … the electric thrill of his touch …

  ‘It’s going to be hard …’ Dirk said when their espressos arrived.

  Tiff raised an eyebrow and laughed. ‘I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.’

  ‘Hard when this ends, I mean. Us.’ He frowned. ‘You’ll go back to London before long, Tiff.’

  ‘Maybe …’ She smiled. ‘Probably. But that’s all the more reason to make the most of now.’

  ‘Keep things casual, you mean? Like they are now? I must admit I’m enjoying the way things are,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re finding the arrangement pleasurable, too?’ His eyes sparkled.

  ‘It’s an extremely pleasurable “arrangement”,’ she murmured. ‘Plus it makes things simpler when I do leave,’ she added with a smile. ‘And when that time comes, we must promise each other there’ll be no regrets and no sad faces. Until then, we should make the most of enjoying every moment together.’

  He flashed her such a sexy look it almost made her knees buckle. ‘Then why are we wasting time here?’

  Reminding herself that she still had a lot of exploring to do where Dirk’s body was concerned, she finished her cooling coffee in one gulp and reached for her purse, throwing some money down on the table. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  Dirk added notes from his wallet to her half of the bill and pinned them down with a saucer.

  Even as she hurried home, with his arm at her back, Tiff couldn’t help reflecting on her words to him. No matter how much she tried to pretend that it was only the sex making her want to spend every moment with him, it wasn’t the whole story. She knew too well that if she let herself like him any more than she did, she’d be in trouble. Falling for Dirk would mean a painful exit from Porthmellow when the day surely came.

  Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Warner – not to get too involved with a man, however appealing? Dirk was no Warner, in fact he was the opposite, not to mention far more gorgeous – but that made him equally as dangerous.

  Despite all her vows to keep things casual, she floated up the slope to the cottages in her heels as if she had wings. She didn’t need to be reminded of the way she’d trudged up to his house on her first day, expecting a pound-shop Heathcliff. It was impossible not to recognise that, since then, Mr Dirk ’n’ Stormy had got under her skin in ways she’d never even dreamed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lachlan stood in the doorway of Marina’s cottage, with a leaflet in his hand.

  ‘I picked up this flyer in the village,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘Some outfit called Stargazey Pie is running an evening cookout called Pie on the Beach.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s Sam Lovell’s mobile business. Some of the staff at college were talking about it today. Sounds good. It’s at Seaholly Cove, isn’t it?’ She glanced at the leaflet but was more intrigued by his sudden appearance on her doorstep. It had been a couple of days since their heart to heart at his place and she’d wondered if – when – they might meet up again.

  ‘Yes – this Saturday. You take your own plates and glasses, and chairs or a picnic rug. They dish up the food and you eat under the stars on the sand. There’s a menu on their website … if you fancy it, that is.’

  ‘Saturday night?’ Marina said. ‘Oh …’

  ‘Is it a problem? If you’re busy, we could do something another time …’

  ‘No. No … Saturday’s fine. It’s OK.’ She smiled. ‘More than OK. I’d like that.’

  His expression lit up and she realised he’d probably genuinely been unsure of her response. They were still skirting around each other, despite their previous conversations. She did feel that Lachlan was holding back more than her, but perhaps that was because she was further down a path than he was. But the fact he’d invited her to a communal event was a promising sign for a man who said he wanted to ‘hide away from the world’. She certainly didn’t want to put him off, now he’d decided to venture out.

  ‘Great. I’ll book two places and call for you around six so we can walk down together?’ he said. ‘I’ll bring some wine and glasses, shall I?’

  ‘I’ll bring the plates and a rug then.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’ He left, and she heard him whistling softly once he’d gone a few yards. Unable to wipe a silly grin off her face, she went out to the garden to take a few calming breaths.

  She looked out to sea. On the Lizard point, the lighthouse was a silhouette in the evening light. There was something that she hadn’t told Lachlan and had no intention of revealing in case it shattered the rapport they were building.

  Saturday night would be the seventh anniversary of Nate’s disappearance – and the day that, legally, he would be officially considered gone forever.

  Marina told Tiff about the beach date while they were both keeping watch at the lookout station the next evening.

  ‘Wow. Well done. I’m very happy you two finally saw sense. I like Lachlan, even from the few times I’ve met him … I saw him pay for an old lady’s shopping in the Co-Op the other day because she’d forgotten her purse.’

  ‘What? You didn’t say anything before,’ Marina said

  ‘Sorry, I must have forgotten. I told him it was a nice thing to do but he brushed it off. He’s clearly modest as well as kind hearted …’ Tiff’s eyes gleamed. ‘Although I don’t think his chivalry towards elderly ladies is the main part of his attraction, is it?’

  ‘No, I have to admit it isn’t.’ Marina smiled then her doubts came back. ‘I’m looking forward to it in one way but … do you think it’s a bad idea to go out on a date with another man on a night like that?’

  Tiff seemed puzzled. ‘A night like … oh, I see. That’s the anniversary of …’ She let the rest of the sentence hang, probably because she didn’t want to say the words out loud.

  ‘Of Nate’s death. Yes. I haven’t told Lachlan. It’s not really the sort of thing you want to hear on a date. Especially as we’re getting on so well right now.’

  ‘Of course I don’t think it’s a “bad idea”, my love. If you like Lachlan and you want to have something happy to look forward to on what could be a grim day, then it strikes me as a great idea.’

  Marina sighed. ‘I’m not sure what my mum and dad will think.’

  ‘Have you told them?’

  ‘Not yet. I haven’t told anyone apart from you. I keep wondering if I should be throwing flowers into the sea, dressed in widow’s weeds and weeping, instead.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime?’ Tiff swept her arm around. ‘Who needs flowers when you’ve got this place as the best memorial Nate could ever have? One that’s saved many lives and will go on to save many more. There’s even a plaque on the wall outside dedicated to his memory. So you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. Plus, I don’t think Nate would want you to spend the rest of your life weeping for him, would he?’

  ‘No, I don’t think he would,’ she replied, though in truth she’d no idea what Nate would have wanted.

  ‘So go out with Lachlan and live your life. You deserve it.’

  She nodded and they watched in silence for a few minutes before the radio crackled into life with a message from the coastguard, making them aware that the Porthmellow lifeboat had been called out to a trawler with engine trouble.

  Tiff showed a gr
eat interest in the message and seemed very keen to be in charge of the powerful binoculars. She was intent on the orange all-weather lifeboat cutting through the waves, throwing up spray on its way to the stricken vessel a few miles up the coast.

  ‘Have you managed to zero in on Dirk yet?’ Marina asked.

  Tiff pulled her eyes from the scope, blinking. ‘The boat’s gone out of range and no … I don’t think I could see him at the helm.’

  Marina pointed to the screen on the desk. ‘Want to follow him – sorry, it – on the marine radar?’

  Tiff wagged a finger. ‘Naughty.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not that desperate …’

  ‘Is everything OK between you two?’ Marina asked. ‘Or is that a stupid question considering you’ve been at his most of the past week?’

  Tiff smirked. ‘More than OK I’d say … I may as well confess that things have gone quite a way beyond the holding hands stage. In fact, there never was any hand holding. We decided to skip the nursery slopes and go off-piste pretty much straight away.’

  Marina giggled. ‘You’re outrageous.’

  She gave a little bow. ‘I aim to please … but I suppose I’d be lying if I said it was smooth sailing between us. How could it be when Dirk ’n’ Stormy meets Tempestuous Tiff? We rub each other up the wrong way from time to time but we’re also remarkably similar. We enjoy similar music, most of the same books, our politics are in synch …’

  ‘You like him, then?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tiff sighed. ‘I could like him a lot more if I let myself, but I won’t. We’ve been upfront that things can’t go anywhere long-term …’ She sighed. ‘The fact is, there’s no future for me and Dirk in Porthmellow. He’s made it plain he expects me to return to the evils of London at some point.’

  ‘Have you any plans to go back yet?’

  ‘No, but I can’t live off your hospitality forever and I’m still hopeful that when the heat has died down, I can find another job. I might have done a bit of work on the side while I’m here.’

  Marina’s antenna twitched. ‘What do you mean?’