Rosie craned her neck and stared into the distance, over the empty tracks. She glanced at her watch. It shouldn’t surprise her that the train was late again. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t as though the cafe was full of customers waiting for her. She tried to relax her shoulders and have a little moment of mindfulness. You could take mindfulness classes in Otter Bay these days — and yoga, of course. Neither were Rosie’s cup of tea.

A hoot sounded in the distance. Her sister wouldn’t be arriving too late then. She was glad she no longer had to pretend, if only to herself, that she was practicing mindfulness. Although she could do with a minute or two of clearing her head.

The train approached with a loud rumble, clearing Rosie’s brain of any thoughts momentarily. Ah. So, loud noise disturbing the weekday quiet of the Cornish countryside was all Rosie needed to free her mind from thoughts — not some silly mindfulness practice.

Rosie tried to catch a glimpse of Paige through the windows rolling past, but she couldn’t see her. The train screeched to a halt and it took another few seconds before the doors opened.

The first passengers disembarked. Rosie kept a keen eye on them. Knowing Paige, she’d be the last to get off the train. Unless visiting Bristol University had got her so excited, she couldn’t wait to repeat all the things she’d already told Rosie on the phone.

Rosie cast her glance down and took her eye off the trickle of people leaving the train only for a split second, when something hit her side.

“I’m so very sorry,” a woman said.

“Watch where you’re going,” Rosie said automatically.

The woman was wearing the exact Paul Smith jacket Rosie had seen in a magazine left by a customer in the cafe just that morning — otherwise she would never have recognised such a fashionable item. Her eyes had watered when she’d seen the price.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the woman said again and briefly caught Rosie’s gaze before hurrying off.

Just another rich Londoner pushing up the price of everything in Cornwall. Rosie watched the woman scurry off, as though she was late for a very pressing appointment. Maybe she was on her way to a mindfulness class.

Rosie hadn’t seen that much of her face, yet the woman looked vaguely familiar.

“Hey.” Paige appeared by Rosie’s side.

Rosie had been so distracted by the stranger barrelling into her, she hadn’t seen Paige get off the train.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Paige said. “Saves me a ride on the bus and about an hour of my time.”

“No problem.” Rosie briefly touched her much younger sister’s shoulder. “Taxi Rosie is always available for you.”

“Can I have that in writing, please?” Paige said.

They walked to Rosie’s battered, old Toyota. She’d got it second-hand for a few hundred quid from Raymond, the local garage owner, who’d put in extra time to fix it up for her free of charge.

“I’d like to add a clause,” Rosie said as they reached the car. “Taxi Rosie is always available to you as long as this luxury vehicle holds up.” She shot Paige a smile.

“It better be good for a few more months then.” Paige grinned back. “At least until I leave for uni.”

They got in. It was good to at least have a laugh at the state of their finances. A split second of relief was better than none.

“Tell me all about Bristol again,” Rosie said as she started driving. They had to rely on conversation to break the silence — the car radio had given up the ghost almost a year ago.

As Paige raved about Bristol University and summed up all the reasons she would love to go there, pound signs added up in Rosie’s brain. But she’d had the opportunity to go to university — at least for the two years she’d been able to attend — and she’d do anything for Paige to have the same experience, without having to take on a crushing student loan. Even though things were very different now.

If she really wanted Paige to go to uni, maybe Mark & Maude’s, the cafe her parents had started a couple of decades ago, had no other prospect than a For Sale sign in the window.

Rosie got the funny feeling in her stomach that she always did when she opened her online banking. The dread in the pit of her stomach that made her want to throw up a little. She longed for the day when she could check the state of her bank account carefree — she was always aware of the exact amount in it, and the number of bills that needed to be paid from said amount.

The profit she’d made on the sale of her parents’ house after their untimely death had long run out. She’d used it to cover the arrears in the monthly mortgage payments on the cafe.

On any given month, nothing much was left over in the account after paying rent for the tiny flat she and Paige shared — a considerable downsize from the place they’d lived in next door to the cafe before their landlord had jacked up the rent once again. Rosie couldn’t blame him for wanting to turn a higher profit with short-term holiday rentals. If only her cafe could benefit as much from the influx of tourists as well.

But Mark & Maude’s was old school, closed before dinner time, and not generically trendy in the way well-off Londoners preferred their eating establishments. And they didn’t serve any alcohol. Maybe they should change that. How hard could it be to get a license to sell alcohol? Selling adult beverages had certainly done wonders for other cafes in the village.

Rosie glared at her laptop screen, as if it was the screen’s fault that her bank balance was so low. She leaned back in her chair, chastising herself for even opening her online banking. It wasn’t as if looking at the numbers would change anything. But she’d hoped the desperation of the situation would spark a magic idea in her brain.

She logged off. No magic spark came. She undid her ponytail and shook her hair loose. She was long overdue a visit to the hairdresser.

Footsteps approached and Paige walked into the living room. “Bonsoir ma soeur,” she said in French with the heaviest accent possible. Paige had the same dreams that Rosie had at her age. She wanted to travel the world and learn some other languages in the process. Studying French at uni was the start. “What’s for dinner?”

“Whatever you’re making,” Rosie said. “It’s your turn, remember?”

Paige sank into a chair. “Emergency pizza from the freezer it is then.”

“At least save your unhealthy eating habits until you’re at uni, will you?” Rosie slapped down the lid of her laptop. The bank’s website was still open and she didn’t want Paige to ask her any money-related questions.

“What will you be eating when I’m away?” Paige cocked her head. “Don’t tell me pizza from the freezer won’t tempt you then?”

Rosie had a hard time thinking so far ahead — and an equally hard time imagining Paige not living with her anymore. Come September, would she be lonely as well as jobless?

“Quinoa and avocado toast with almonds and chia seeds every day,” Rosie joked. She remembered the first time a customer at the cafe had asked if they served quinoa.

“It’s not really a Cornish delicacy,” Rosie had replied, and pointed at the items they did serve on the menu.

The bell rang and Paige jumped up. “I’ll get it,” she said.

Rosie stretched her arms above her head while she tried to guess who it was.

“Brace yourself,” Paige whispered when she walked back into the living room. “Your ex is here.”

“Amy.” Rosie groaned. “What does she want?”

Hands on her hips, Paige looked at her as though Rosie had just asked the most stupid question in the world.

“Knock, knock.” Amy’s voice came from the hallway.

Rosie wanted to shoot her sister a look demanding why on earth she had let Amy in, but Amy was already standing in front of her, so there wasn’t much point.

“Hi,” Paige said to Amy. “I’ll leave you to it.” She disappeared into the kitchen. Maybe she would take the time to figure out an alternative menu for dinner.

Amy walked over to Rosie and kissed her on the cheek. She kept her hand on Rosie’s upper arm a little longer than was necessary — at least according to Rosie.

“What’s up, Rosebud?” Amy asked while she gave Rosie a once-over. “Although I really like your hair when it’s down like that, you look a little glum.”

Of course Amy wouldn’t for a second consider that it was her turning up unannounced — again — that made Rosie look unhappy.

“You know,” Rosie said. “A bit stressed.”

Amy shook her head. “You can’t go on like this much longer,” she said. “And you do have options. You know that.”

It was easy for Amy to say. Her parents actually knew how to profit from the new quinoa-eating, novelty-gin-drinking, mindfulness-practicing holiday crowd. They basically owned the local economy and their brand-new cafe was direct competition for Mark & Maude’s.

“I don’t need your help,” Rosie said, shifting her position in the chair. She didn’t much feel like inviting Amy to sit, lest she give her the impression she was welcome to stay for a chat — or that she wanted her help.

“Don’t be so stubborn. You’re only twenty-eight. You have your whole life ahead of you. There are so many things you could do if only you didn’t cling to your precious cafe so much.” Amy had always been a straight talker. “You could get a job managing one of our cafes just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Think about it, Rosie. A steady salary. No staff to pay. There’s something to be said for that kind of security.” She lowered her voice. “Especially with a younger sister going to uni.”

“Stop meddling with my life. It’s none of your business.” Rosie tried to hide the agitation in her voice. Amy might be right on some level, but Rosie certainly wasn’t going to admit that to her face.

“I care about you.” Amy took a step closer again. “You know that.”

Rosie was just able to keep from rolling her eyes. She’d heard that line so many times before. It didn’t work on her anymore.

“What are you even doing here, Amy?” Rosie couldn’t mask the irritation in her tone this time.

“We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Rosie sighed. Not as far as she was concerned. She didn’t need friends like Amy. “Paige and I were about to have dinner. It’s not really a good time for a friendly chat.”

Amy glanced at her in silence for a moment. “Message received loud and clear.” She turned around and headed for the door.

Fat chance of that. Rosie followed Amy into the hallway, looking forward to the moment she would slam the door shut behind her.