Letting Toby stew is all very well but it’s me who seems to be going crazy. I’m expecting Toby’s written proposal to land in my inbox the next day, but nothing arrives then or the day after. And the postman only brings his usual haul of charity letters, bills and holiday brochures.

I’m not planning to accept Toby’s offer. There’s no way I want to let Tregavara House go but it’s unfinished business and he’s got under my skin.

‘What’s up with you?’ asks Storm, watching me flick through the post in the sitting room and throw it into a pile on the floor. ‘What are you expecting?’

‘Nothing,’ I lie because there’s no point in worrying or unsettling her. She’s still more subdued than usual following Alice’s death.

Storm rips open an envelope adorned with an animal charity logo and hoicks out the pen inside. ‘I’ll have that, thank you very much. Have people replied to those lame wedding invite cards you and Josh posted round the village?’

‘Some have sent acceptance cards, but most people just say yes when we see them in the pub. Actually, talking of wedding invitations, I’ve got some cards left and could—’

‘Nope! I’ve already told you there’s no way I’m inviting my mum to come and see me in some sad dress and spend time in the same church as Barry. The last time they got together she threw a pint of beer down his sweatshirt.’

‘I’m sure they could behave like adults on my wedding day.’

‘You have no idea,’ mutters Storm. ‘But she wouldn’t come anyway.’

‘She might if she was invited by you. What about when you next see her? It’s not long until you’re off to Richmond so could you raise it with her then?’

‘Yeah, OK, I’ll ask her.’

That was far too easy. I know Storm has no intention of mentioning it to her mother and she knows I know but it’s an efficient way of bringing the discussion to a grinding halt. Accusing her of being economical with the truth would only herald the onset of World War III and my nerves are frazzled enough.

Storm wanders off to have a shower and douse every available bathroom surface with water while I fetch the remaining invitation cards and envelopes from the bureau.

The glossy cards with navy blue edging were ordered online and didn’t cost much. But seeing the details of our wedding in black and white is a thrill every time. Would it be such a bad idea to send one to Storm’s mum behind her back?

I pop an invitation into an envelope and pick up the charity pen that Storm left on the sofa. But I know deep down that I can’t address it and put it in the post. Storm’s trust has been hard won and would be easily lost. It looks like I won’t be the only one missing her mum on my wedding day.

---

Toby’s offer for Tregavara House arrives via email two days later.

‘He’s offering how much?’ Josh squints at the laptop screen and sucks air in through his teeth. ‘Oh, that’s clever. Very clever. He’s offering just over the market value, when you take into account the thirty grand he’s deducted for a new roof, so that we’ll sell to him rather than someone else.’

He takes another look at the email just in case the figure being offered has magically changed.

‘Perhaps he really is missing Alice and has feelings for the old place. He’s not all bad, you know, and he’s trying very hard with Freya.’

‘But he still always puts himself first so why do you want to defend him?’

‘I dunno. He’s the only member of the Trebarwith family I’ve got left and I’d rather he wasn’t a sleazeball, I suppose.’

Pulling my sleeve over the heel of my hand, I rub a viewing circle in the steamed-up windscreen. We’re crammed into Josh’s battered old Mini because we needed somewhere private to talk. We told the girls we were going to Tesco in Penzance and have driven up onto the moors instead. But Storm presented me with a shopping list before we left so I guess we’ll have to traipse round the supermarket once this is resolved.

‘So what are we going to do about his offer?’ asks Josh, cracking open his window. Rain is drumming hard on the roof and the sweet summer smell of hot, damp earth floods the car.

‘Presumably you want to tell him where to stick it.’

‘Oh, yeah and I’d be happy to help him do it.’ He leans forward and peers through the windscreen at a blur of green moor and grey sea. ‘But we need to be realistic, Annie, and accept that we might need to let Tregavara House go.’

‘You said we could make it work.’

‘I said we’d see if we could make it work but things aren’t improving, are they?’

He’s got a point. My boss Celia called a meeting at work yesterday and warned us that ‘the funding situation going forward is rather challenging’, which Gayle and Lesley later informed me is corporate code for ‘we’re screwed’. At the moment Josh and I are managing to pay off the mortgage and his loan and put a bit aside for the wedding and the roof fund but if I lose my job, our finances will be well and truly shafted.

‘So are you saying we should sell Tregavara House to an outsider?’ I can’t help shuddering.

Josh laughs and closes the laptop lid. ‘We wouldn’t be handing over the house to an alien, Annie. It would go to someone who’d probably love it like we do but could give it the money and attention it needs. And don’t forget you were an outsider in Salt Bay not so long ago.’

It’s true that I felt like an outsider at first. But it didn’t take me long to realise I was more of an outsider in London where I’d lived all my life than in Salt Bay. Alice took me in, filled in the gaps and gave me what I was missing. And now I miss her.

‘I can’t,’ I say in a small voice. ‘I know you think it’s crazy and I’m letting my emotions win but if we sell to anyone it has to be Toby because he’s—’

‘A Trebarwith. I get it.’

‘And I can’t let Alice down. Are you fed up with me?’

‘Not with you, just the situation. We should be looking forward to our wedding and celebrating having the house but it’s all a bit of a mess at the moment.’ Josh swivels his backside round towards me and curses when his knees hit the handbrake. ‘Actually, I admire your family loyalty because I’d walk through hell and high water for mine. Mind you, they’re not duplicitous toerags.’

‘Perhaps Toby isn’t either. Maybe he’s changed.’

‘And maybe I’ll be invited to take part in the next series of Strictly.’

‘Cor, you’d look gorgeous in sequins doing a samba with your chest out.’

We both laugh which helps to ease the tension that’s started threading through our relationship. It’s hard when your boyfriend is ruled by his head and insufferably sensible whereas you appear to have morphed into a quivering blob of heart-led irrationality.

But we both want the same thing – the best for all of us. I take a deep breath of damp air and curl my hands into fists. ‘I’m so fortunate that Alice left me the house and I feel terrible selling it, but Toby’s offer is the best compromise. We could stay in Salt Bay, pay Toby rent and invest the money from the sale. It makes sense.’

‘Believe me, the thought of Toby as our landlord doesn’t fill me with joy and we’d need to get things in writing. But this way would give us breathing space to sort out what to do next. I love living in Salt Bay too, Annie, and want you to be happy.’ Josh nudges me with his shoulder and grins. ‘We could spend more on the wedding and get some of those doves Kayla was going on about.’

‘And fireworks. And a ginormous cake with gold flakes. But we wouldn’t have to sell until after the wedding, would we? It feels important that the house is mine when we hold the reception there.’

Ugh, irrational feelings again. My eyes are filling with tears and Josh squeezes my leg.

‘We don’t have to do anything right now. Selling is a huge decision and the thought of Toby getting what he wants is killing me so let’s sleep on it. No decisions today, OK?’ He winds his window down further and pokes his head outside. ‘The rain’s stopped so we could have a quick walk and get some fresh air before we hit Tesco. What’s Storm put on her list?’

I fish the crumpled paper out of my pocket and scan down it. ‘Just the usual. Crisps, white bread for toast, chocolate milkshake and ice cream. Good grief, the girl’s a nutritionist’s nightmare and I’m supposed to be in loco parentis.’

‘You’ve got a lot on your plate, Annie. Though not as much as Storm, obviously,’ he sniggers.

It’s a terrible joke but I love my strong, sensible boyfriend for trying to cheer me up. He deserves more than me moping about all over the place.

‘Come on,’ I say, giving my door a hefty kick because it’s the only way to get out of this rust bucket. ‘Let’s walk to the old tin mine and make out.’