The next morning I take a walk into the village. The ground’s damp from the overnight rain so the cliff path will be too slippery and treacherous. It’s cooler today and still overcast, though the sky is light grey rather than the bruised-purple clouds that bunched over the sea last night.

‘Morning, Annie. Not so many emmets about at the moment,’ calls Cyril as I’m walking past the village green. The river that cuts across the open space is lower than usual in spite of yesterday’s rain and the water is swirling and eddying around stones on the river bed.

‘That’s because the sun’s disappeared for the last few days, Cyril.’

I sit beside him on the bench where he’s resting his legs. The hem of his trousers is frayed and there are breakfast stains down his shirt but it’s good to see him out and about. Before he joined the choir, Cyril was the village recluse and still grieving the loss of his wife. I understand that – shutting yourself away when the safe world you know crumbles around you. But it’s not healthy to keep yourself apart, not in the long run.

‘You look tired, girl. Are you off work because you’re ill?’ Cyril stares at me without blinking.

‘No, I’ve taken a day’s leave to catch up on stuff. I’m not sleeping too well at the moment but I’m fine.’

‘Why aren’t you sleeping? You’re not having second thoughts about young Josh, are you? He’ll do you right.’

‘I know he will.’ I pat Cyril’s arm, which feels insubstantial beneath his cotton shirt. ‘But I’m missing Alice, and Emily’s still looking for a job and Storm can be challenging sometimes and the house is lovely but quite a responsibility and, to be honest, we’re considering selling it to Toby.’

Eek, I didn’t mean to say that. One question and it all came burbling out, which only goes to prove I’d be the worst spy in the world. ‘Tell me all your secrets, Mr Bond.’ ‘Uh, OK.’

‘Toby Trebarwith? That’s interesting.’

What sort of interesting? ‘What a fantastically good idea’ interesting or ‘you’ve clearly lost your mind and Alice would be appalled’ interesting?

‘Only the house would have gone to Toby anyway presumably if I hadn’t been around and the roof’s dodgy and there are bills to pay and we could probably pay rent and stay on in the house anyway and… I’m burbling. Sorry. But what do you mean by interesting?’

‘Just that Toby Trebarwith is local Cornish but he doesn’t fit in round here.’

‘So you think selling to Toby would be a bad idea.’

Cyril places his cool, veiny hand on top of mine. ‘You don’t want to take advice from an old codger like me, Annie, and I’d never make a fuss but I know some folk who would if Toby took over Tregavara House.’

Great. It seems I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

‘Sorry, Cyril. I didn’t mean to load all my worries onto you.’

Cyril gives a gappy grin because he’s forgotten to put his false teeth in again. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been useful so load away! And if you want my opinion, a young girl like you should be all excited about her wedding, not being dragged down by responsibilities. You need a break, Annie. Somewhere you can get some peace and quiet, away from work and calls on your time and this social media stuff that’s addling people’s brains.’

‘I’m fine, honestly, and where in the world is more peaceful and gorgeous than Salt Bay?’

Ahead of me, pretty cottages are clustered along the valley which rises steeply away from the sea. The air is fresh with salt and ozone and there’s no need for Cyril to worry about frazzled brains because my social media consumption has plummeted since I arrived in Salt Bay. The Internet disappears into a black hole around here and now I don’t much miss it. All that Facebooking and tweeting to convince everyone that my life was perfect turned out to be exhausting.

So Cyril’s wrong. I don’t need to go anywhere else. In fact, people would pay to change places with me.

Whack! That’s the sound of a Brilliant Idea slapping me around the chops. What if I could give people the opportunity to enjoy what I have here – sea air, huge arcing skies, a community choir, real-deal Cornish pasties? Tregavara House would be a fabulous venue for a B&B.

My brain starts whirring while Cyril and I sit on the bench in companionable silence. A B&B would bring in money and help Tregavara House pay its way. And Emily could run it with some help from the rest of us – she told me once she was interested in the hospitality trade and this would give her brilliant experience.

‘Are you all right, dear?’ asks Cyril, patting my knee. ‘Only you’ve gone a funny colour.’

‘What about a B&B?’

‘Eh?’ He squints at me and rubs the white bristles on his chin.

‘I was thinking that we could maybe turn Tregavara House into a B&B and that would help to pay for its upkeep so we could hang onto the place and not sell to Toby.’

‘A bed and breakfast establishment in Salt Bay? I suppose it’s about time we had one of those.’

‘But please don’t tell anyone about it.’

I’d better discuss what might be a madcap scheme with Josh before my idea is talked about in the pub and Jennifer’s saying a five-star hotel’s planned. Some of the locals are set in their ways and might not like outsiders ‘invading’ the village. Mind you, according to Cyril they’d also freak at the thought of Toby owning Tregavara House.

‘Don’t worry, I’m the soul of discretion and can keep a secret,’ says Cyril, tapping the side of his nose. ‘I’ve never told anyone what Arthur got up to in Rhyl.’

What on earth did upright, uptight Arthur get up to in Rhyl? All kinds of scenarios are running through my mind – Arthur rat-arsed in a gutter, Arthur off his head on E in a night club, Arthur having it away with a stranger behind Rhyl Bus Station.

I’m tempted to beg Cyril to spill the beans but can’t really, seeing as I’ve just asked him to keep a secret for me.

So instead I ask him: ‘What do you reckon Alice would think about me opening a B&B?’

‘She always was a very practical woman and it’s better than you selling the house to Toby. If she’d wanted him to have it, she’d have left it to him. You need to do what’s best for you and that young man of yours and those girls you’ve taken in. And if that means turning the house into a bed and breakfast establishment, so be it.’

---

I can hardly wait to run my idea by Josh and pounce on him the minute he comes in from the summer school he’s helping to run during the holidays.

‘Slow down – slow down,’ he laughs, pushing me onto a kitchen chair. ‘Do you really think people would pay to stay here? It’s not exactly The Ritz, is it.’

He’s got a point. The walls in here could do with a freshen-up coat of paint and the back door is scuffed from Storm kicking it closed. But the Aga still cooks up a mean full English and our guests could eat at the solid oak table.

‘I’m sure it would be all right if we tarted the place up a bit. We could convert the dining room into another bedroom and then have two couples staying at the same time to bring in regular income.’

‘But what could we offer people?’

‘Good Cornish home cooking, fabulous views of the cliffs and the harbour, bracing sea air, a local pub, Poldark.’

‘Poldark?’ splutters Josh.

I shrug. ‘The house was built using the proceeds from tin mining so we can spin a Poldark connection. And you do look rather brooding and swashbuckly.’

Josh raises his eyebrows. ‘Will I be required to stride around in boots and breeches with my shirt off?’

I give myself a delicious moment to fully picture this while Josh laughs and pours us both an orange juice from the fridge. The back door and windows are wide open and a cool breeze is snaking through the house.

‘Plus, the village is pretty,’ I continue, ‘and the view from the cliffs is awesome and there’s a beach.’

‘Yeah, if people want to break their necks scrambling down the cliff path to get there.’

That’s true. Guests hurtling off the Path of Doom wouldn’t be great publicity.

‘OK, maybe we don’t mention the beach. But Salt Bay has lots of day-trippers and I’m sure some of them would like to stay in the village overnight.’

When Josh stays quiet, I wrinkle my nose at him. ‘Do you think it’s a daft idea?’

‘No, not really. But it’s not going to bring in loads of money so finances will still be tight if we don’t sell the place. And there are rules and regulations about B&Bs. You can’t just open them willy-nilly and the authorities won’t be too happy if our roof’s about to fall in.’

‘But it’s not. The roof’s been patched up and will be fine for ages,’ I say, crossing my fingers behind my back.

‘Hhmm. You have more faith in this house than I do.’

Josh is being infuriatingly practical but how frustrating will it be if we need income from the house to keep it going and save up for a new roof but we can’t get that income until a new roof is on? I slurp my orange juice and drum my fingernails on the table.

‘Anyway, I thought you were coming round to the idea of selling to Toby,’ says Josh gently. ‘It grieves me letting him have what he wants but I can see it’s probably the most sensible option.’

‘So can I but I don’t feel sensible. I feel guilty because Alice left her beloved house to me and selling it feels like going against her wishes. And I feel sad that she’s not here so I can explain and ask her if she’d mind. And I feel awful that I’m messing you about and behaving so… Ugh, what’s the word I’m looking for?’

‘Emotionally?’

‘Yep, you probably think I’m being all emotionally incontinent again. I bet you wish you’d chosen someone else now. Someone not so—’

I was going to say ‘mental’ but that’s what the kids in the school playground used to call Mum when she turned up to collect me in poncho and slippers. As her bouts of illness progressed, her fashion style got even more eccentric until she didn’t turn up to collect me at all.

‘I don’t want anyone but you, Annie. And I get why you’re all over the place at the moment.’

Hhmm. I wouldn’t have put it quite like that but whatever.

Josh sips his orange juice and looks at me across the kitchen table. ‘You’re still grieving for Alice and reeling from the shock of inheriting this house and the responsibilities that come with it so it’s hard to know which decisions are the right ones. Look, why don’t we leave Toby dangling for a bit longer and you can check out your B&B idea to see if it’s a go-er?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Why not? It’s good to look at other options before Toby gets his hands on the place. And anyway, having to wait for an answer will drive him demented.’

‘Then I’ll check out the planning rules and see what we’d have to do. I bet we can get round things… and don’t people round here say you should never underestimate the Trebarwiths?’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ murmurs Josh, scooting round to my side of the table, putting his hands on my cheeks and lifting my face for a kiss. ‘If anyone can sort things out, you can, dodgy roof or no dodgy roof.’

Which is lovely and all that but, without a nifty thirty grand in my back pocket, I’m not one hundred per cent sure that I can.