I hurried down the ribbon of path to the beach, wrenching my ponytail free of its band so that my hair lashed round my face in the rain-soaked wind.

‘Hang on, where are you going?’ called Danny behind me, but I didn’t stop until I was panting on the sand, with nothing but the darkening sky above and the steely glitter of the sea stretched out in front of me.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, as Danny caught up, not sure how to explain that the feel of his hands on my arms as he’d steadied me, combined with the music and heat of the café had sent my emotions into a tailspin. Frantic to escape, I’d mumbled that I had a headache before fleeing.

‘I don’t normally have such a dramatic effect on women,’ he said, facing the sea alongside me, not even slightly out of breath. ‘They normally run into my arms, not sprint in the opposite direction.’

‘You’re pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?’ Hugging my arms around my waist, I turned to look at his annoyingly perfect profile, wondering exactly how many girlfriends he’d had. ‘Why are you wasting your time trying to “win me over” when you can obviously have your pick?’

‘Hey, lighten up.’ Bending his knees so our shoulders were level, he gave me a gentle nudge. ‘I was only joking, Cassie.’

The collar of his woollen jacket smelt damp and his stubble glistened with raindrops. The rain was falling steadily, flattening our hair to our scalps, but where it didn’t detract from his good looks, the drowned-rat look didn’t flatter my egg-shaped head.

‘Sure you’re OK?’

Keen to escape his scrutiny, I fixed my gaze ahead as if hypnotised by the waves. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You seemed a bit tense back there.’

‘Of course I was,’ I said, wondering how long he’d been watching me. ‘Events are always nerve-wracking.’

‘Even a small one like that?’ He turned, and I glanced over my shoulder at the brightly lit café, where silhouettes of people were bobbing about. Faint guitar music drifted down, faster than before, and I imagined everyone dancing and wished I’d not let my nerves get the better of me. I’d caught a glimpse of Meg’s startled face as I shot past and heard Tilly call my name, but hadn’t looked back.

‘There’s more pressure when it’s family,’ I said.

‘You want to be careful of that.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Pressure. It can do bad things to a person.’

What did he know about pressure with his casual approach to work? ‘Pressure produces diamonds,’ I said, citing Carlotta, who’d been as fond of a pointless sound bite as Nina was of inspirational quotes.

‘It can also burst a pipe.’ Danny flipped up an eyebrow, and looked as if he was waiting for me to appreciate this startling insight.

Hoping for a quick exit from the conversation, I said, ‘Thanks for doing the sign for tonight’s event.’ I hadn’t noticed it until I’d arrived at the café. A sandwich board, with the words Taster Session tonight, courtesy of Cassie Maitland. Come and wet your whistle between 7 and 9 p.m. written in swirly script.

‘My pleasure. I’ll do one for your cat day too, if you like.’

‘How did you know about that?’ I realised as soon as I said it that Nan must have told him.

‘Sylvia mentioned it,’ he confirmed. ‘I volunteer at the shelter sometimes, so I called and put in a good word for you.’

‘Which good word, when you don’t even know me?’ I couldn’t help making the dig again, thinking how little he really did know.

His eyes sprang wide with surprise. ‘I said you’d had lots of experience at arranging these sorts of events, and that the cats would be in safe hands.’

For some reason, while he was speaking, I was imagining us in a soapy embrace in the shower. Chasing the image away I said, ‘I wouldn’t say lots of experience.’

‘You don’t have to pretend to be modest.’ I felt the weight of his gaze again. ‘Your parents are obviously proud of you for a reason.’

They wouldn’t be if they knew I’d been fired. ‘All parents are proud of their children’s achievements.’

‘Not true,’ he said. ‘I know plenty who aren’t, and for good reason.’

‘Speaking from experience?’

He was silent for a moment, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. I didn’t want to encourage him, but I was coming across like a bitch.

‘My parents are proud,’ he said lightly. ‘But they’re not the type to shout about it.’

‘Like mine, you mean?’

‘I wasn’t saying that. God you’re touchy.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘I’m really going to have my work cut out, persuading you I’m worth getting to know.’

I gave a snort. ‘You’re full of it, Danny Fleetwood.’

‘If you mean good intentions, then yes, I am. Hopefully, I can convince you of that over a meal tomorrow night.’

‘No, thanks, and anyway, I can’t.’ I rubbed my upper arms. My thin, wet blouse was no match for the bracing wind wrinkling the sea into creamy-white peaks. ‘I’ve arranged a games evening at the café.’

‘Sounds fun.’ His lips curved into a smile. Why did I keep looking at his lips? ‘I’m lethal at Scrabble.’

The thought of him coming to the games night made my wrist itch again. ‘Won’t you be working at the restaurant?’

‘Night off,’ he said. ‘I could bring my mum.’

‘Great.’

Apparently choosing to ignore my sarcastic tone, he said, ‘What about Thursday? I’ll cook you the best meal you’ve ever had.’

My heart did a great big bounce. ‘I’ve already told you, you’re wasting your time with me.’

‘But you will at least come for a meal?’

I sighed. ‘I’ve arranged a comedy night on Thursday, at the Smugglers Inn. Andy Farrington. It’s on the website.’

‘Ah, yes, the comedy night.’

I didn’t bother asking how he knew. He clearly knew everything. ‘He’s good,’ I said. ‘He did a big charity gig I was at last year in London.’

‘Oh, I know who Andy Farrington is.’

Confused by Danny’s mischievous tone, I said, ‘Well… good for you.’

‘I guess it’ll have to be Friday, then. The meal, I mean.’

‘Fine, whatever.’ I puffed the words out on a sigh as I stamped my feet on the sand. My teeth had started to chatter and, before I could object, Danny had removed his jacket and swung it around my shoulders. The lining was warm, and held the scent of him, and – in spite of myself – I snuggled into it.

‘Let’s get you back inside before you catch cold,’ he said, turning and leading the way back to the path. ‘Unless you’d like me to walk you home?’ It was almost as if he’d sensed my reluctance to go back into the café.

‘Thanks, but I’ve got the car,’ I said. ‘Plus, I should really stay for a bit and help my parents clear up.’

‘I’m sure they’ll manage without you.’

‘This wasn’t their idea,’ I said, watching his outline in front of me, pushing along with easy strides while I puffed behind in my slippery-soled black loafers. ‘They’ll be wanting to get off home.’

He stopped suddenly, halfway up the path. ‘Aren’t they on board with your plan to “boost their business”?’

Why had he emphasised the words? Had Mum and Dad said something? ‘I’m doing it for their benefit.’

‘I didn’t say you weren’t.’ He turned to face me, but I couldn’t read his expression in the failing light. ‘But I got the impression they thought you were here on holiday.’

For god’s sake. Why did they have to talk about me to everyone?

‘But they want to help,’ he said.

‘Oh, they want to help, do they?’ I had no idea why my voice had risen an incredulous semitone. ‘I’m the one doing them a favour, not the other way round.’

The wind had dropped and the silence that fell was a solid wedge between us. Behind him, I noticed that Meg and Tilly had come out onto the terrace and were looking over, their faces a pale blank gleam.

‘I guess you’re helping each other,’ Danny said finally, and I switched my gaze back to his shadowy frame. ‘That’s what families do, isn’t it?’

‘Families are a pain in the behind.’

‘Don’t take your family for granted, Cassie, they’re part of your history, of who you are.’

Ashamed of my snappy tone, I said, ‘I suppose so. It’s just… ’ I looked at my shoes, which were covered in sand.

‘Just what?’

‘It’s hard work, that’s all… ’ Pretending I haven’t potentially messed up my future. ‘If I’m going to be my own boss, I need to put myself out there. I can’t afford to lounge around doing nothing while I’m here, especially as Mum and Dad think I’m going back to London soon.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Well, yes, but…’ Unwilling to admit that I currently had no home there, I said vaguely, ‘I was thinking of New York, too. I lived there for a while and know a few people.’ None who’d be willing to offer me a free home.

‘I quite fancy visiting New York.’ He grinned, and although I had the feeling it wasn’t what he’d intended to say, I was relieved when he didn’t pursue it. For a horrible moment, I’d felt a dragging desire to tell the truth about everything and, as he continued on his way, I lagged behind so there were no more opportunities for conversation.

---

Everyone seemed subdued the following morning. I’d risen early, determined to have breakfast with my family before they left the house, but attempts to analyse the evening’s event were met with a lacklustre response.

‘It went very well, love,’ was Mum’s best offer.

Dad’s was worse. ‘I ache all over this morning,’ he said, moving stiffly with his hand pressed in the small of his back. ‘Those extra couple of hours made a real difference.’

Maybe their lack of enthusiasm was because, in the end, I hadn’t been able to face following Danny back into the café – even to return his jacket. I’d invented a migraine for Meg and Tilly’s benefit, my bedraggled appearance adding credence to the lie. Although it hadn’t been a total lie, as my head really had been pounding. They’d been touchingly sympathetic, with Meg promising to tell my parents I’d had to go home, and when Mum had stuck her head round my bedroom door just after ten, I’d pretended to be asleep.

‘Rodney’s Dad demanded two hundred quid,’ Rob said, once Mum and Dad had left for work, their goodbyes to me accompanied by worried smiles and admonishments to ‘take it easy’ because I was ‘obviously very tired’.

‘Two hundred quid?’ I almost dropped my coffee mug. ‘You didn’t pay him?’

Rob shook his head.

‘Mum did, though.’

‘WHAT?’ I clattered my mug onto the table. ‘The little shit,’ I stormed, pushing my fingers through my bed-tangled hair. ‘Considering the state he was in when he arrived, he’s got a bloody nerve. I mean, he came good in the end, and he’ll probably get more bookings on the back of that performance, but he should be thanking us for giving him a second chance, not demanding cash. In fact, I’ve a good mind to call him—’

‘Dial it down, sis,’ Rob said calmly, placing his cereal bowl in the sink. He still ate Cheerios for breakfast, like he had when he was ten. ‘I told him I’d tell his granddad about his little habit if he didn’t give back at least a hundred and fifty.’

‘And did he?’ I seemed to be angry out of all proportion, my heart banging too hard in my chest. I imagined leaping on Fletcher and pummelling him to the ground, then bashing him over the head with his guitar.

‘Yes, he did.’ Rob took off his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. ‘I said he could keep forty, to pay for his petrol.’

I glared at him. ‘Why didn’t you lead with that, instead of letting me get all worked up?’

‘Didn’t take much, did it?’ he said, replacing his glasses and leaning back against the worktop. ‘Maybe you should be taking a holiday, instead of working while you’re here.’ His reprimanding tone gave me a crippling sense of inadequacy. Far from being impressed by my endeavours, everyone seemed to be worried about me. Hardly the effect I’d been hoping for.

I picked up my mug and took a careful sip of coffee to prove that I was fine. ‘It went well though, didn’t it?’ I said. ‘Eventually, I mean?’

‘It could have been worse,’ Rob acknowledged. ‘I don’t think it’s really Mum and Dad’s kind of thing, though. Expensive brands of tea and coffee, I mean. They liked the guitar playing.’

Bloody hell. That was the bit I’d had nothing to do with, other than to pester Rob with sibling blackmail, and Rodney’s Dad could have died from whatever he’d taken, now I thought about it. ‘What if customers start requesting the taster brands?’ I said, attempting to keep my cool.

Rob picked up a slice of cold toast and took a bite. ‘Mum and Dad will have to order them in, they won’t have any choice,’ he said, through a mouthful.

‘You make it sound like a chore.’

‘Well, it’s not like they asked for any changes, is it?’ he said reasonably.

‘We’re talking about stocking new flavours, not bulldozing the café and building a brothel.’

Rob looked like he was picturing it for a moment. ‘Yeah, but they’re pretty set in their ways,’ he said. ‘Remember, you and me were the ones who were supposed to escape the drudgery and set the world alight with our brilliance.’

‘They did used to go on about it, didn’t they?’ I said. ‘Especially Mum.’

He shrugged. ‘Parents want their kids’ lives to be different from theirs. If theirs has been unhappy, I mean.’

I put my mug down again. ‘Mum and Dad are happy.’

‘They are now, but they weren’t when they were younger, with Mum’s mum being sick all the time, and Dad having to pick up the pieces with Nan whenever Gramps had another one of his flings, and getting caught in the middle of it all.’

I stared at him, wondering whether he really had been in therapy. There’d been a time he hadn’t even known our parents’ first names were Edmund and Lydia – he’d just thought of them as Mum and Dad.

‘I know that’s why they pushed for us to get away, and that they were terrified of placing demands on us, but that didn’t mean we were going to end up happier, did it?’

‘No, but at least I gave it a good shot,’ Rob said, and I realised he thought I was referring only to his happiness, not my own. And why wouldn’t he, when I kept banging on about how brilliant my life was?

I suddenly remembered him calling in to see me, just after I’d finished working on a fashion gala attended by pop stars, models and magazine editors, and I was on a high, despite hardly any sleep. He’d been heading to Amsterdam with X-Y-Zed and, thinking back, he’d mentioned that Emma wasn’t happy about him going away, and I’d said something catty about her having to suck it up.

Guilt jabbed beneath my ribs as I wondered about the conversations we hadn’t had over the last few years. What would we have talked about? Would he have admitted he was struggling?

Would I?

‘Listen, Rob, I’m sorry I wasn’t in touch with you more while you were away. I had no idea you weren’t enjoying your life.’

He swallowed more toast and went a bit pink around the ears. ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘I could have called you, I suppose, but I knew you were busy all the time, and, anyway, it’s not easy to… you know.’ He scratched his nose. ‘Admit you’re not doing well. Emotionally, I mean.’

‘No,’ I agreed. Hopeless tears welled and I blinked and stared hard at the table.

‘Hey, it’s OK. I’m good now, I promise.’ The fact that he was at pains to make me feel better, only made me feel worse. ‘Better than I’ve ever been, in fact.’

Something about the tenor of his voice brought my head up. His face was a watery blur, and I blinked to clear my vision. ‘How so?’

His eyes were as shiny as marbles. ‘I haven’t said anything yet because Emma doesn’t want anyone to know until she’s past twelve weeks, and she still wants to be sure I’m going to stay around—’

‘Oh good god.’

‘She’s pregnant, Sandra.’ His grin was wide enough to split his face. ‘I’m going to be a dad.’