Two pairs of eyes tracked my approach to the table furthest away, and I grew clumsy under their scrutiny, jogging the elbow of a man about to sip some coffee, causing it to slosh onto his putty-coloured trousers.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, snatching a napkin off the table and thrusting it into his lap, dismayed to see a dark stain seeping across his crotch. ‘I hope it wasn’t too hot.’

He thrust back his chair and stood up. ‘Leave it,’ he ordered in an American accent. ‘I’ll put cold water on it in the rest room.’

He stalked off, leaving behind a tight-lipped woman, who I assumed was his wife, studiously avoiding my eye as she cradled a fluffy white dog.

‘Maitland, you always were a clumsy mare.’

I turned in the direction of the voice, which I instantly recognised as belonging to Tilly Campbell. Forgetting my nerves I hurried over, a smile breaking out on my face. ‘I can’t believe you’re both here,’ I said, watching as first Tilly, then Meg, stood up to greet me. For a moment, we didn’t speak, weighing each other up in the way of people who hadn’t seen one another for years, assessing what had changed.

Meg still looked as though she’d just walked through a meadow, with her soft, wavy, honey-blonde hair and English rose complexion. In a short-sleeved, floral-print dress that flared out from her hips, she’d clearly stopped worrying about her (invisible) back-fat and embraced her gorgeous curves, and learnt to enhance her baby-blue eyes with make-up.

By contrast, Tilly was still all angles; tall, with sloping shoulders, and penetrating green eyes in an elfin face. Her fine dark hair was cropped short, showing off her incredible cheekbones, and she could have passed as a student in a stripy shirt, skinny jeans and faded red sneakers.

‘I can’t believe that the first time we see you in years, you’re groping some bloke underneath the table.’ Her eyes danced with amusement and affection, and my answering laugh was watery with rising emotion.

‘I can’t believe that Legal Mystics are finally back together,’ said Meg, and suddenly we were hugging and laughing and saying, ‘It’s been too long,’ and ‘You look fantastic,’ all at the same time, and I knew it was going to be all right.

‘So, how come you’re both here?’ I said, finally pulling out a chair and positioning myself between them, while the young waitress placed a pot of tea and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies on the table. ‘From your mum,’ she said shyly, before scooting away.

‘We were hoping to see you, you idiot.’ Meg grinned as she poured the tea, her face bright with feeling. The sun sparked off a selection of jewels nestling on her ring finger, and catching my look, she said, ‘Oh yes, I’m getting married next year.’

‘That’s amazing!’ I’d have put bets on Meg being the first of us to get married. ‘Congratulations.’

‘To Sam,’ she added, before I could ask who the lucky man was.

‘Sam from school?’ That wasn’t exactly surprising, either. Even at sixteen they’d been inseparable, to the exclusion of everyone else.

‘The one and only,’ said Tilly, pretending to stifle a yawn.

‘He’s not boring,’ Meg protested, just like she had in the beginning, when Tilly and I used to tease her about his love of fishing and collection of cycling magazines. ‘We actually broke up for a while, while Sam was at university, but got back together six years ago.’

‘Like a fairy tale,’ said Tilly, doing a moony face. ‘They’ve got a house together and everything.’

‘You’re still in Salcombe?’

‘Of course, where else?’ Tilly answered for her. ‘You know what a home bird she is.’

Meg gave her a fondly indulgent smile and, even though our paths hadn’t crossed since leaving school, I felt a pang that they’d been catching up without me.

‘What about you?’ I asked Tilly.

‘Young, free and single.’ Her soft, wide mouth tilted up. ‘I’m not a nun, or anything, I go on dates, when I can be bothered, but I can’t imagine settling down. Not for years, anyway.’

It was somehow typical of Tilly, who’d always been more interested in reading, or redecorating her bedroom during the holidays, than hanging out with boys.

‘How come you’re back in the UK?’ I reached for a cookie and broke it in half. ‘I thought you’d settled in Canada.’

She shrugged and picked up her mug, which looked small in her long, slender fingers. ‘After my grandparents died, my parents wanted to come home,’ she said simply. ‘Dad had a house built in Ivybridge, not far from where we used to live, so I’m there at the moment.’ I remembered her father had been – and presumably still was – an architect. ‘Thought I’d look up Meg, because I knew she’d still be around, and here we are.’

‘But what about your life in Vancouver?’

‘You know Tilly,’ Meg said, helping herself to a cookie and taking a delicate bite. ‘She always goes with the flow.’

That was true. So laid back she’s practically horizontal, Dad used to say.

‘I always thought I’d come back one day.’

‘Not so different from Meg, then,’ I said, smiling.

She looked about to protest, then subsided with a laugh. ‘I guess not.’

We looked out over the cove and fell silent for a moment, taking in the vista of unbroken blue sky and twinkling sea, offset by the deep green grass carpeting the headland.

‘Remember when we used to lie on towels on the beach, and plan our futures?’ said Tilly.

‘I do.’ There was a wistful edge to Meg’s voice. ‘I wanted to run my own bakery one day.’

‘God, that’s right,’ I said, memories rearing up. ‘And Tilly thought she’d be living on a barge.’

‘I’ve no idea why.’ Her bemused expression triggered giggles. ‘I wanted to be an Olympic swimmer, too.’

‘You were a strong swimmer,’ I said, remembering. ‘We could never keep up.’

Meg turned to me, eyes shining. ‘You always said you’d end up living in London, and you are,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t wait to get away.’

‘I know.’ Back then, only London had represented the future my parents had insisted Rob and I were entitled to – the one it would be virtually impossible to achieve if we’d stayed in Seashell Cove. ‘Well, I’m not there at the moment,’ I added lightly, and before they could probe, I turned quickly to Tilly. ‘You didn’t have a career in Vancouver?’

‘I’ll never be a career girl.’ She sank back in her chair, catching crumbs in her hand as she took a big bite of cookie. ‘Anyway, I can do my job anywhere.’

‘When it suits you,’ said Meg, throwing me a conspiratorial look that made my heart soar. I’d missed this, I realised. The three of us had been as close as sisters once, and I’d taken them completely for granted. ‘You always liked to do as little as possible,’ she added.

Tilly’s lips twisted into a modest smile. ‘Wouldn’t want to overstretch myself by having a proper job.’

I smiled, but something in Meg’s face told me Tilly’s words had hit a sore spot. I supposed it was OK for Tilly. She’d never wanted for anything. Her parents were well off and could afford to support her, whereas Meg had been raised by a single mum and probably had to work hard for every penny. Tilly was ten years younger than her sister, and had been thoroughly spoilt by her parents, to the point where it was a miracle she’d turned out to be as unaffected as she was.

‘I hear you’re working at the café,’ I said, switching my attention back to Meg.

She nodded. ‘My hours at the bakery were cut, so I only work mornings now. Business isn’t so good.’ Her smile flickered, and I wondered if she was remembering her dream of running her own. ‘Anyway, I gave the café a call on the off-chance, and your mum offered me a job.’

‘Did you make these?’ I waggled my cookie at her.

‘I did.’ She blushed softly. ‘What do you think?’

‘Delicious,’ I said. ‘No wonder this place is full.’

‘I like it.’ Her smile was warm and genuine. ‘Your parents are lovely to work for.’

‘What’s with Gwen?’ I lowered my voice in case she was loitering somewhere. ‘She was really rude to me earlier, and she looks like she could hurt someone.’

Meg giggled, revealing the tiny gap between her front teeth. ‘She’s fine,’ she said. ‘Well, she’s not, but the customers love her, for some reason. She’s Maureen’s cousin, and got the job after Maureen retired.’

‘Ah.’

‘She doesn’t give much away, but Maureen told your mum that Gwen had been through a bad break-up with her husband when she lived in London, and she lost her job and wanted a fresh start.’

I could relate to the fresh start bit. And losing a job.

‘Don’t your parents keep you up to date with what’s going on here?’ asked Tilly, finishing the last cookie in two bites. She appeared to still eat like a ravenous horse, without ever gaining weight.

‘They’re more interested in what I’ve been doing,’ I said. ‘They can’t get enough of my stories.’ My mood dipped slightly. The truth was, I’d enjoyed telling my stories, knowing they always got a good reaction. Like the time someone fell off a party boat, and had to be rescued by police divers. Sometimes, I’d even embellish the stories for effect.

‘When I was helping with the café makeover, they talked about you a lot,’ said Tilly, emphasising ‘a lot’.

‘And yet, you’re still happy to see me.’

They both laughed.

‘They think I’m too busy to be bothered by what’s going on here, or that I won’t find it interesting.’ A bubble of shame floated up. Whenever I’d phoned, I hadn’t always got around to asking about home, or I’d had to break off to take a work call or deal with some ‘emergency’. No wonder they thought I wasn’t interested.

Meg and Tilly leant forward with intent expressions.

‘Your life sounds amazing, Cassie.’ Meg sighed passionately, her eyes twice their usual size. ‘I was so jealous when I heard how well you’re doing.’ If it had been anyone else I’d have assumed she was taking the mickey, but Meg wasn’t like that. ‘No wonder you haven’t been back in I don’t know how long.’

‘I didn’t get much time off,’ I started to say, but Tilly interrupted.

‘Didn’t you meet Kanye West?’ There was a twinkle of wonder in her eyes. ‘Is he as, you know, off-the-wall, shall we say, as he seems?’

‘I only really saw him from a distance, at a charity auction in New York,’ I admitted. A very long distance. On a television screen. In my room. I’d been too ill to attend the auction, after coming down with a chest infection on the back of the worst cold I’d ever had. ‘He seemed OK.’

‘Were North and Saint with him?’ Meg spoke eagerly, as though she was familiar with the family. ‘Sam’s a Kardashian fan,’ she added, which almost caused Tilly to choke on her tea.

‘He didn’t have the children with him,’ I confirmed. At least that much was true.

‘And you had an amazing apartment over there?’ Meg seemed as hungry for details as my family.

‘I shared a place in Manhattan with my colleague Nina and a couple of staff from the American office while we were there.’ The couple had indulged in frequent and noisy sex, meaning I’d spent what little free time I’d had walking the streets, as Nina was seeing a lawyer at the time who kept whisking her out for meals. She’d put on a stone while we were there. ‘It overlooked the Hudson River.’

‘Wow,’ Meg breathed, and I just knew she was picturing the place where Monica from Friends had lived, imagining me with a Ross-type character, and Nina looking like Jennifer Aniston. She’d been obsessed with Friends back in the day. I’d been surprised when she started seeing Sam, with his fair-haired, boyish good looks, when she’d once declared Joey Tribbiani to be her ideal man. ‘And you have a place in London?’

‘I did,’ I said, dabbing my finger into the cookie crumbs on my plate, wondering how much to tell them. ‘I just moved out, actually.’

‘What was it like?’ I knew Tilly would be far more interested in my room dimensions, colour schemes, and lighting than whether or not I’d lived with anyone.

‘Small,’ I said, honestly. In fact, it had been quite nice – what the estate agent had called ‘a hidden gem’ set off a roaring main road full of betting and charity shops, but calm and cosy inside, and a big step up from the house that Trudy and I had shared with a DJ, and a fashion student who could never afford her share of the rent. ‘And expensive.’

‘Obviously. It’s London,’ said Meg. ‘But you must earn a fortune, doing what you do.’ She’d never been embarrassed to talk about money – unlike me.

I noticed her squinting her eyes in the sunshine. ‘Do you want to swap seats?’ I indicated the parasol, keen to move away from my financial status and life in London. ‘It’s nice and shady here.’

‘I’m fine.’ She scooched her chair closer to mine. ‘You must know loads of people,’ she said, as if she spent her days in isolation. ‘Living in the city.’

‘I… suppose so.’ I’d met lots of people, but wouldn’t have said I knew them.

‘It’s got to be more exciting than here.’ Although Tilly made a dead-eyed face, I got the impression she was perfectly happy where she was, and I suddenly couldn’t bear for either of them to know how uncertain my future was. Or that I’d been fired from my ‘amazing’ job. And they definitely didn’t need to hear about the pockets of loneliness I’d felt whenever I’d had time to examine my life and the things I didn’t have – a partner, children, or close friends. I’d never made it to Italy to stay with Trudy, despite repeated invitations, and with our old connections broken we’d gradually lost touch. Apart from Nina, there hadn’t been time to form any new friendships, and ours hadn’t been the sort to involve wild laughter, gossip, swapping clothes and singing. ‘It is exciting,’ I said with a forced note of determination. ‘But I’d gone as far as I could at Five Star and it’s time for a change now.’

‘Isn’t it risky, striking out on your own when you were doing so well?’ Meg said, and I didn’t know whether to be admiring or annoyed that she’d thought to ask.

‘To be honest, I’m looking forward to the challenge.’ The back of my neck was growing hotter by the second. ‘And there’s a lot to be said for being a big fish in a smaller pond.’

‘Ooh, a small pond, are we?’ Tilly put on a la-di-da voice. ‘You do talk quite posh now.’

‘I had to lose the accent,’ I said, remembering how Carlotta used to make fun of it when I started at Five Star. ‘I learnt to en-un-ci-ate properly.’

‘If you hang around long enough, you’ll soon be talking like us again,’ said Meg.

‘How come you don’t have a Canadian accent?’ I asked Tilly, desperate to divert the spotlight away from me.

She shrugged. ‘I guess I’m a Devon girl through and through.’

Or maybe she had a stronger sense of her own identity than I did. The thought was oddly depressing.

‘You look the part, too.’ Meg eyed my hair and outfit, seeming unwilling to move on. ‘I love your top.’

‘Thought I’d make an effort.’ I felt as self-conscious as if I’d stepped out in my pyjamas.

‘Remember when you used to wear your dad’s stripy shirt under a pair of dungarees with one strap falling down?’ Tilly gave a wicked grin.

‘Ah yes, my “artist” look.’

‘I really thought you’d go somewhere with your art. You were good.’

Not another one. ‘I still draw for fun sometimes.’ I thought of my sketch pads in my rucksack, and then of Danny Fleetwood. ‘Guess who I bumped into at my Nan’s?’

‘Danny Fleetwood, I expect,’ said Tilly, fanning herself with her hand. ‘He’s even hotter than he was back then.’

A blush crept over my whole body. ‘Is he?’ I’d never told them about Danny asking me to the leavers’ party. Maybe I’d had an inkling he wouldn’t turn up. Plus, our mantra that year had been ‘sisters before misters’ – we weren’t interested in the ‘loser’ boys at school. If they’d wondered why I kept glancing at the door that night, they’d never said.

‘He’s definitely hot.’ Meg spoke with authority. ‘I don’t remember him from school, but when I saw him painting the sign for the café I thought he looked a bit like that actor in Outlander. Jamie something?’ Tilly looked blank while I gulped my tea, which had gone cold, for something to do with my mouth.

‘Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’ Meg asked. ‘He’s single, you know. Danny, I mean.’

Once again, Adam filled my head. ‘I met someone recently,’ I said, which was true. ‘It’s very early days, though, and he’s… working a lot at the moment so…’ I let the words hang, wishing I’d been honest then, realising Meg was about to dig for details, quickly added, ‘Listen, we should all stay in touch.’

‘That would be brilliant.’ With touching eagerness, Meg got her phone out so we could exchange numbers, and Tilly did the same. ‘I don’t even know how we drifted apart; it feels like I only saw you both yesterday.’

‘Legal Mystics forevah,’ said Tilly, and we performed the fist-bumping movement we’d perfected long before it was a thing. ‘Maybe we should re-form.’

‘Never Ever,’ said Meg, and when we collapsed into giggles I realised it was the first time I’d laughed properly in months.

‘It’s Water under the Bridge,’ I managed.

‘I’ll stick with drinking Black Coffee,’ Tilly gasped, and when we’d run out of All Saints titles to pun, she said, ‘So, when are you going back to London?’

My face froze. ‘Actually, I might be staying around for a while, depending how things pan out.’

‘You are going back eventually, though?’ Meg daintily dabbed the corners of her eyes with a napkin. ‘It sounds like your skills would be wasted around here, and there’ll be no chance of you meeting Kanye West again.’

‘Talking about work?’ It was Mum, with a fresh pot of tea in her hand and a proud smile on her lips. ‘She can’t stop you know, even while she’s on holiday.’

‘Oh?’ Tilly glanced from me to Mum, as if intuiting something in my expression.

Mum put down the teapot and picked up our crumb-scattered plates. ‘She’s organising some events for the café for her portfolio, aren’t you, Cassie?’ She said ‘portfolio’ with excessive relish.

‘Ooh, like what?’ Meg rested her chin in her hand and looked at me with admiration. ‘We could do with some entertainment around here.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘W-e-e-e-e-ll, we do have the Smugglers,’ Mum seemed moved to point out. ‘They have a quiz night, but Cassie thinks it’s old-fashioned.’

‘I never said that,’ I protested, hating that Meg and Tilly might think I was being pushy.

‘That pub is definitely stuck in the past,’ said Tilly. ‘I went for a drink there with my dad and they’ve still got the same carpet they had before we went to Canada.’ Her expression was comical. ‘I didn’t realise pubs still had carpets.’

‘I like it, it’s retro.’ Meg seemed to be enjoying the exchange in a radiant, shiny-eyed way that made me think that perhaps she and Sam didn’t have many friends outside their relationship. ‘And they still do karaoke.’

‘I’ve got plenty of ideas,’ I said, my earlier enthusiasm flooding back. ‘The first is an exotic tea-and-coffee tasting session. Shall we say next Tuesday evening, seven until ten, Mum?’ I might as well get the ball rolling. ‘That’ll give us time to spread the word.’

‘I’m not sure…’ she began. ‘Ten’s a bit late.’

I managed not to roll my eyes. ‘Nine, then.’

‘Sounds great.’ Meg beamed. ‘I’ll make an extra batch of cakes.’

I smiled at her, glad I hadn’t needed to ask. ‘That would be brilliant.’

‘I’ll be there,’ said Tilly. ‘I’ve got quite the discerning palate, I’ll have you know.’

‘Oh, thanks, Tilly.’ Already, I felt more supported than I had for a while. It was just a pity that Mum didn’t look so keen.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said, catching her round the waist for an awkward hug. ‘You’ll be home in plenty of time to get jiggy with Dad on the sofa.’

‘Sounds a bit risky, though,’ said Meg, as Mum walked away, pretending she hadn’t heard. ‘Do you think Maitland’s customers are ready for the exotic?’