Everything Nick owned was going into this project. It was his final chance.

‘The thing about kitchens,’ he said, looking at his watch, ‘is that they have to work.’ He was finding it hard to explain, especially when other things, other people, were on his mind. ‘It’s not about just making sure it all fits and wiring up appliances.’ Nick paced about, thinking hard. ‘You sure you don’t need me to stay on-site, Trev?’

The builder folded his arms. ‘Mate, if you don’t get your arse out of this building, I’m going to kick it all the way to Land’s End.’ He gave Nick a playful shove on the shoulder.

Trevor had come highly recommended and, over the last couple of months, they’d become something like friends, enjoying the occasional after-work beer together. Nick reckoned he could trust him, but was still uneasy about leaving the project at such a crucial stage. There was hardly any spare cash or time to undo mistakes, and while he reckoned Trev would keep quiet about the basement, it was still a risk.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed the rubble-covered floor. He nodded in agreement and took one last look around the site that, in a couple of months, would be opening its doors to some of the fiercest reviewers in the trade. He felt anticipation and fear, as well as utter emptiness. Jess had always been by his side.

---

In the car, he switched between radio stations but couldn’t find anything decent. He shuffled randomly through playlists, and when the tune blared out he felt like he’d been punched in the guts. He gripped the wheel tightly, driving through the pain. Jess had chosen all these songs for him – her favourites, some old, some new. This was the song playing when they’d had their first kiss. He was sentimental like that. Now he wanted to smash things if he heard it.

Life had to be recalibrated.

He skipped to the next track, trying not to think. He swerved suddenly as a horn blared, narrowly missing a van.

Shit.

He overrode the satnav and, instead of taking the M4 towards Bristol, he left London on the M3, veering off after Basingstoke. He didn’t think it would take much longer and it would give him time to think. Think about her.

The last time he’d seen her was at Revel. He’d had no idea she was coming in. They’d met once or twice over the years, trying to keep in touch, trying to do the right thing, even though seeing her always filled him with a sense of loss, of what might have been.

That day, towards the end of a busy lunchtime service, one of the waitresses had handed him a note written on a napkin. His first thoughts were that it was from an undercover critic – there’d been a spate the last few weeks – so Nick wiped the sweat off his face and went to table eight as requested. There was only a handful of diners left, mainly business customers, plus a woman sitting alone, straight-backed, hair the colour of apricot glaze. She was staring out of the window.

‘Was everything OK with your meal?’ Nick said from behind.

She turned around, making him freeze. His heart waited for his mind to catch up.

Her face broke into a broad smile. ‘Hey, Nick…’ She stood up, those green eyes taking his breath away.

‘My God. Claire Lucas!’ They hugged briefly, awkwardly. He couldn’t help the grin. ‘It’s been ages. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’

‘Because I didn’t know, that’s why.’ They both sat down. ‘I was in London for the day. A friend suggested we eat here, but just as I arrived she had to cancel.’ Claire swept her hair off her face. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I spotted your name as chef on the menu. Do you have a few minutes?’

‘Of course,’ he said, thinking she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

‘And it’s Claire Rodway now. Did you forget? We’re in the Old Stables now, next door to Mum and Dad. You remember it, right? Took years for Callum and me to renovate… Not that we did the actual work ourselves, Callum’s far too busy for that but…’

Nick nodded, trying to listen, to take it all in, but all he could manage was to focus on her lips, watch them move around words he didn’t want to hear. Of course he knew she was married. He’d received an invite to the wedding but didn’t go.

‘That’s great.’ His eyes were drawn to the cluster of freckles on her nose, the small gap between her front teeth that, when she smiled, made him feel eighteen again.

‘And Marcus is growing up fast, and baby Amy is a joy.’ Then she’d got out her purse and shown him photographs.

‘Fantastic,’ he replied. ‘I’m glad things are good for you, Claire. And I’m pleased you came in.’ Nick swallowed. ‘Callum is a lucky man.’ He couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

He noticed Claire’s chest rise quickly as she inhaled suddenly. ‘Thanks, Nick,’ she replied, holding her water glass.

‘It’s funny you ended up with him.’ He clenched a fist under the table. What was wrong with him? ‘I was terrified of him, you know,’ he said, adding a laugh. ‘Didn’t he live in that huge house next to the church with his brother?’

Claire laughed, the smile reflecting in her eyes. ‘Yes, he did. But Cal’s not scary in the least.’

Nick remembered the Rodway boys well – Callum and Michael. They were clever, rugged and good-looking, the whole family commanding a superior status in the village. ‘Didn’t Michael go on to become some hotshot accountant?’

Claire nodded, smiling, clearly trying to hold back her amusement. ‘A banker,’ she corrected.

And Callum Rodway, Nick remembered, was the taller, more handsome brother. Much older than their group of friends, he reckoned Callum was probably shaving while he and Claire were still in nappies. ‘Didn’t he used to babysit in the village?’ Nick wished he could just drop the topic. ‘I swear my mum used him a couple of times.’ The Rodway boys had a reputation for being responsible, and it didn’t surprise him that Callum had become a doctor. ‘I’m just glad it’s worked out well for you, Claire, and that you’re still near your parents.’ He knew her plans for university had been crushed after what happened that summer. ‘So, you’re happy?’

Claire stared at him for what seemed like an age. ‘Of course.’

She didn’t ask if he was.

---

Nick braked at the junction, winding down the window. Whatever happened during the next week, he had to focus on the restaurant, not get sidetracked with things that couldn’t be changed. He’d told Trevor he’d call each day for progress reports. ‘I can be back on-site in a few hours,’ were his parting words, at which Trev had nearly shoved him out of the door. It was the cellar that was concerning him most.

With the end of the journey in sight, Nick skirted Dartmoor, heading towards Bodmin and Wadebridge. From there it was narrow lanes all the way to Trevellin, and with every bend he took, every gateway he pulled into to allow a car to pass, Nick’s apprehension about the reunion grew.

Of course he was looking forward to seeing everyone again, but witnessing the happy goings-on of the Rodway family would still sting. He wasn’t sure he could stomach too much familial bliss when his had fallen apart so comprehensively.

He passed a sign. Trevellin village was three miles away. His heart thumped as he tried to work out exactly why he was feeling so apprehensive. Then that kiss in the sea was on his mind again – beautiful, silly, perfect; the only time anything physical had ever happened between him and Claire. Given what came afterwards that day, neither of them had ever mentioned it again.