‘You didn’t have to do this.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Danny patted Sir Lancelot’s sage-green flank before opening the boot so that I could place my cargo inside. ‘I couldn’t miss a chance to drive this ancient beauty.’ He nodded in a friendly fashion to Sid Turner, who was out on the road with his eyes on stalks at the sight of a genuine classic – albeit it one a bit rusty around the wheel arches.

‘If you need her buffing up, give me a shout,’ he called, brandishing his cloth as if he’d like to bolt over there and then.

‘I will, and it’s actually a he,’ I replied, feeling foolish, trying not to look at Danny as I ducked under his arm and into the passenger seat. I was suddenly glad that I’d made an effort with my outfit. The contrast with his grass-stained jeans and loose T-shirt somehow served to heighten the different directions our lives had taken, and placed me on firmer ground. His untidy hair was sweeping his collar, and his stubble was more pronounced than it had been yesterday. Definitely growing a beard.

As he fired the car into life, he flashed me a wicked grin. ‘Like what you see?’ he said, jiggling his eyebrows.

Annoyed at being caught looking, I turned to look out of the window, hoping my face was hot because of the sun blazing through the windscreen.

‘Just so you know,’ I said starchily, ‘I’m not looking for a relationship.’ Better to get it out of the way. Just because I’d had a weird chemical reaction to seeing him for the first time in years, and he’d gone out of his way to try to charm me, didn’t mean I was willing to play his ‘win you over’ game – because I was certain that’s all it was to him: a game. ‘I’m totally focused on starting a new phase of my career.’

‘All work and no play?’ He sucked in a breath. ‘You know what they say about that.’

‘That I’ll build a successful business and, in a few years, have enough money to do whatever I want?’

He chuckled as he released the handbrake and drove down the road, his broad hands resting lightly on the old-fashioned steering wheel. ‘So, you’re motivated by money?’

‘Just watch where you’re going.’ I didn’t want a conversation about what motivated me. ‘We can’t all pick and choose what we want to do.’

‘I think you’ll find that we can.’

‘Maybe, if you’re living off a trust fund.’

His roar of laughter indicated that nothing could be further from the truth, and I realised that, despite us having shared a year of art classes, I knew nothing about his background. ‘I’m just not driven by cash,’ he said, when he’d sobered up. ‘It’s more important to me that I’m happy with how I spend my time every day.’

‘Doing this and that?’

‘Exactly.’ He glanced at me sideways. ‘Each of my jobs fulfils a different need.’

‘How many do you have?’

‘Needs, or jobs?’

I let the silence swell.

‘Please yourself,’ he said, cranking down the window and poking his elbow out. ‘I’ve got three jobs.’

‘Three?’

‘Sign-writing, gardening and cooking.’

‘You cook?’ I wasn’t sure why that was so surprising, except that his soil-engrained hands didn’t look like they should be handling sausages, or whatever he specialised in. ‘I’m a chef at The Brook in Kingsbridge,’ he said, naming a popular and classy restaurant. ‘Only a few nights a week, mind you. I wouldn’t want to do it full time.’

‘A chef,’ I repeated, adjusting my impression of him. ‘Where did that come from?’

He jerked a shoulder. ‘I used to go fishing with my dad after…’ He paused. ‘Anything we caught, he’d cook. It sparked an interest.’

‘Right,’ I said, picturing a tousle-haired boy bent over a flaming grill. ‘I like seafood.’

‘That’s good, because I was going to invite you to the restaurant one evening next week, and I do a mean cod with chorizo.’

My heart was doing silly things again, so I focused my gaze on the shiny, wooden dashboard, thinking how different it was to Adam’s Alfa Romeo with its red leather seats and state-of-the-art sound system. ‘I probably won’t have time.’

‘I’m sure you can spare a couple of hours,’ he said, turning the car down the curvy road that led to the café. In the distance, the sun was shimmering off the sea and the sand looked almost white. ‘Never get tired of that view,’ he added, pulling the car into the only available space in the tiny car park.

‘Do you live locally?’ I hadn’t meant to ask, but it just slipped out.

‘I do,’ he said.

‘Did you always?’ I hadn’t meant to ask that either. ‘Only, I don’t really remember you from before that last year or so at school.’

‘No, we lived all over the place when I was a kid, because my dad was in the army.’ His fingers drummed the steering wheel. ‘We settled in Kingsbridge after he was… after he left. I was thirteen, fourteen. I live there again, now,’ he said. ‘Nice house, not too far from the restaurant.’

‘Your own?’ Remembering what Dad had said, I realised how little chance there was at the moment of me ever buying my own place.

‘My sister’s, actually. I rent her attic room.’

‘Ah.’ I hadn’t meant to convey disapproval – or maybe I had. Either way, he made the face of a scolding teacher and wagged a finger at me. ‘Don’t judge me, Cassie Maitland.’

My face reddened. ‘I wasn’t.’

‘You’ll like her,’ he said, dropping the act. ‘Louise, my sister, I mean. Most people do.’

‘I’ve already told you, I’m—’

‘Not looking for a relationship.’ He gave me the benefit of his smile. ‘It’s OK, I get it.’

‘Good.’ I snapped my seat belt off, ignoring a tiny stab of disappointment.

‘But that’s only because I haven’t won you over, yet.’

I decided to ignore the comment. I didn’t want to encourage him. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ I said politely, getting out of the car.

He leapt out too, a smile still hovering, and I wondered whether he ever looked pissed off. ‘Do you want a hand?’

‘I’m good, thanks,’ I said, retrieving my boxes from the boot.

‘I would come in with you, but I’m installing a water butt for Sylvia today.’ It was odd, hearing him refer to Nan by her name. ‘For collecting rainwater,’ he clarified.

‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m here on business, anyway.’

‘Clearly.’ He tipped his head at the boxes. ‘You can tell me all about it over our meal at The Brook.’

I felt my scarf slip forward, but my hands were full and I couldn’t do anything about it. ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ I said, tilting my head back.

‘Well, that can’t be true.’ He looked at me for a long moment, while the breeze lifted his hair, and although I tried to look away, my gaze seemed stuck to his annoyingly attractive face. ‘See you soon, Cassie.’

As he walked away, I called after him, ‘Aren’t you taking the car?’

He turned. ‘Sylvia said to leave it with you, otherwise I’d have given you a lift in my van.’

‘But… how are you getting back?’

He jabbed a finger at his feet and a little march on the spot. ‘On these,’ he said. ‘It’s not far.’

‘Sure you don’t want a cup of tea, first?’ Damn. Why had I said that?

Expecting him to accept smugly, I was stung when he shook his head and said, ‘Cheers, but I’d better get back,’ and strode off with a merry wave.

‘Suit yourself,’ I muttered, dragging my eyes away from his departing back. ‘I was only being polite.’

Not wanting to draw attention to myself by taking my boxes through the café, I put them down and reached for the back door, just as it swung open.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Gwen, as I reeled aside to avoid being smashed in the face. ‘You shouldn’t stand there, mate, it’s dangerous.’

‘I was about to come in,’ I protested, wondering how she’d come by a job at the café. Maureen, who’d worked there for years, had been much nicer, like a friendly aunt. In fact, everyone had called her Auntie. ‘You should have checked there was no one here.’

‘There isn’t, usually.’ She drew a packet of chewing gum out of her trousers’ pocket. ‘Want some?’ She held out the pack and shrugged when I shook my head. ‘Don’t blame you, mate,’ she said. ‘’Orrible stuff, but better than smoking twenty cigs a day.’

‘Definitely,’ I said, remembering the choking fits when Meg, Tilly and I had tried to start smoking, luckily without success.

‘You’re the wonder girl, then?’ She looked me up and down, with about as much pleasure as someone finding dog poo on their shoe.

‘Sorry?’

‘The one with the brilliant life we’re all supposed to admire.’

‘I—’

‘I lived and worked in London for fifteen years,’ she butted in. ‘It ’ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.’

‘I didn’t say it was.’

‘Anyone would think you’d split the atom, the way your parents carry on.’

Who did she think she was? ‘I’m not responsible for what they say about me when I’m not here,’ I said, face flaming. ‘And, anyway, you don’t have to listen to them.’

She moved her chewing gum around her teeth and pressed her back to the sun-warmed wall of the café. With her meaty build and military haircut, she could have been a bouncer. Her upper arms strained at the cuffs of her top, and her small, brown eyes probed me from under heavy brows. ‘’Ard not to listen,’ she said. ‘They’re always bragging abart you and your brother, like no one else’s kids ’ave ever done anythink interesting.’

Oh god, it did sound a bit over the top. My annoyance gave way to embarrassment. ‘Well, I’m… I’m sorry if you’ve been offended by it,’ I said. ‘They are ridiculously proud of us, I’m afraid.’

She moved an eyebrow. ‘S’pose it’s not your fault,’ she said when the gum had completed another circuit of her mouth. ‘I’d probably feel the same if I’d spawned a couple of kids, but it just feels like it’s a bit too good to be true, if you know wha’ I mean?’

Sadly, I did. Unnerved by her knowing stare, worried my face was giving something away, I bent to pick up my boxes. Appearing to lose interest, Gwen inclined her face to the sun and shut her eyes. Grabbing the opportunity, I slipped into the passageway of the café, trying to claw back my earlier high spirits.

‘Cassie, sweetheart!’ Dad emerged from the little storeroom-cum-pantry with a giant box of teabags in his hands. ‘Meg was just asking whether you were going to drop by.’

I almost dropped my boxes. ‘She’s here, now?’

‘She doesn’t start work for a couple of hours, but came in early hoping you’d pop in.’

‘Right.’ I’d probably met hundreds of people since leaving Seashell Cove, but my stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of seeing Meg again. We hadn’t stayed in touch, after all, and probably had nothing in common any more.

‘Tilly’s here, too.’

‘What?’

‘She’s leading one of her coastal walks in a while, but is dying to see you.’ Shit. I wasn’t sure I was up to this. What if, like Gwen, they’d got so sick of hearing about how successful I was, they hated me on sight? They might even be hatching a plan to bring me down a peg or two. Or, to have a go at me for not reaching out sooner. I hadn’t so much as looked them up on Facebook, but, then again, they hadn’t reached out to me either.

‘I suppose it won’t do any harm to say hello.’ I hadn’t realised I’d said it out loud until the smile dropped off Dad’s face.

‘Harm?’ His brow furrowed. ‘They can’t wait to hear about everything you’ve achieved.’

They’d already have heard, if Gwen was to be believed. Still, I could always play things down – which wouldn’t be hard, considering there wasn’t much to play up to at the moment.

‘I’ve brought the new teas and coffees,’ I said, trying to buy some time. ‘Would you like to have a look?’ I shuffled past Dad and placed the boxes on the polished tiles, but when I straightened he was peering past me through the open back door.

‘Is that Sir Lancelot?’

‘Nan said I could borrow him.’

‘At least she hasn’t got rid of him yet.’ His face clouded over. ‘I don’t know why she’s so hell bent on wiping out the past.’

‘She’s not,’ I reassured him, even though that’s exactly what Nan seemed to be doing. ‘She’s minimising, that’s all.’

He brightened. ‘Maybe she’ll be over it soon, like with the lace-making, and the hill-walking, and learning Mandarin.’

I hesitated. ‘I expect you’re right,’ I said, guessing it was what he wanted to hear.

‘Come on, then.’ He jerked his head for me to follow him. ‘Your audience awaits.’

‘But…’ I gestured helplessly at my boxes.

‘We’ll look at those later,’ he said, and I had no choice but to trot after him, pushing my scarf off my forehead to avoid looking like a pirate.

The café was a bustle of chatter and laughter, with Mum in her favourite position behind the counter, slicing a generous portion of cake for a customer.

‘Here’s our favourite daughter,’ she said, as Dad joined her and started refilling the tea caddies. He winked at me, as if to say ‘prepare yourself’.

‘This is Cassie,’ Mum said to the customer, who smiled politely at me. ‘She was an event manager for a big company in London called Five Star.’ The words emerged in a rush, as if she wanted to impart as much information as possible. ‘They have a New York branch as well, which Cassie helped to set up last year, and she was responsible for bringing in some really high-profile clients.’ Oh god, Mum, stop it, I willed, but she was on a roll. ‘She was practically running the company, but has left now, to set up her own business, and she’s going to be putting on some events for us here, at the café.’

‘Sounds impressive,’ the woman said, eyeing me with respect. ‘I wish my daughter hadn’t dropped out of university.’ She looked weary all of a sudden. ‘She’s been dithering about at home ever since, living off the bank of Mum and Dad.’

I wanted to say something comforting, but Mum was speaking again, while Dad was distracted by a man requesting his bill.

‘We encouraged our two to be independent from an early age,’ Mum was saying. ‘We wanted them to experience life away from here, to not feel tied to the place where they grew up.’ She turned gooey eyes on me. ‘They’ve certainly done us more than proud.’

Bloody hell, was she always like this? I tried to catch the woman’s gaze to signal that I was, in fact, human, with faults, but she’d taken her cake and was moving away, her shoulders drooping underneath her coat. Poor woman. She’d come in to enjoy some home-made cake, and had received an unwanted side order of smug parent.

‘What did you say all that for?’

Mum blinked at my tone, the pleasure fleeing her face. ‘What do you mean, love?’

But the effort required to explain seemed too enormous. ‘It was a bit much, that’s all,’ I said. ‘I’m hardly Oprah Winfrey.’

It was a rubbish comparison, but luckily – or unluckily – Gwen returned at that moment, radiating bad temper. ‘Yes?’ she barked at the man behind me, as if I wasn’t there.

‘A buttered scone and a latte, please.’ He didn’t seem to mind her brusque manner and I edged away and left them to it, fluttering a wave at Mum to show her I was fine.

‘Out there,’ Dad mouthed, poking his pen in the direction of the terrace. Through the window I caught sight of the back of someone’s head, and knew in some primitive way that it was Meg. Part of me wanted to turn and run – to leave the past where it was, haloed in a golden haze of sunshine – but, as if sensing I was there, she turned and met my eye and it was too late.

I stiffened my spine and made my way outside.