‘Woohoo, it’s Annie Sunshine Trebarwith, mistress of Tregavara House.’

Kayla gives a mock bow while I’m weaving through the crowd and heading for the bar. Cornwall’s summer season is in full swing, the sun is out, and the Whistling Wave is heaving with tourists, or emmets – the Cornish word for ‘ants’ – as they’re known around here.

Kayla’s wearing a strappy pink vest top and all the windows in the pub are flung open but it’s hot and humid in here and Kayla’s face is flushed.

‘Too. Many. People,’ she pants, pulling a pint with one hand and handing over change with the other. ‘Roger needs to get more bar staff in here only he won’t ’cos he’s so tight.’

‘Oy, I heard that,’ shouts Roger, who’s pulling a pint for Gerald. ‘I’m not made of money, you know.’

‘See, tight!’ says Kayla, slopping the beer down in front of a man whose ice cream is dripping over the flagstones. She turns her back on a customer who’s waving a ten pound note in her direction. ‘Did you have a nice time at the Mount then? You look less stressed so going out for the day must have done you some good. What’s that?’ She stares at my ring after spotting it at last. I’ve been waving my fingers in her face since I reached the bar, like Marcel Marceau doing an intricate mime.

‘Oh, this?’ I wiggle my fingers some more and grin. ‘I’ve got something to tell you so cadge a break from Roger and I’ll meet you out the back in five minutes.’

‘Five minutes, my tight Australian arse!’ Kayla throws down the cloth she’s carrying and yells: ‘Urgent business. Back in a few minutes.’ Then she rams her sunglasses onto her shiny face, grabs my arm and pulls me through the kitchen into the back yard.

There’s a smelly dustbin out here and a skinny feral cat is grubbing in the dirt for fallen fish bones. But it’s peaceful away from the tourists and inquisitive members of the choir.

Kayla parks her backside on a low wall, takes hold of my hand and starts pushing my ring up to the knuckle and back down. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

‘If you think it’s an engagement ring, then yes, it is. Josh and I are getting married.’

‘No way!’ yells Kayla, throwing her arms around me so ferociously she almost knocks both of us off the wall. ‘That’s brilliant news! Let’s go and announce it in the pub. You won’t have to buy yourself a drink all afternoon and you’ll be rat-arsed by teatime.’

‘No, you can’t tell anyone. I wanted to tell you first but Josh’s family don’t know yet, so you can’t tell a soul.’

‘Nooo. Don’t do this to me,’ wails Kayla, pushing her sunglasses up off her face and into her thick red hair. ‘This news is mega and it’ll cheer everyone up after losing Alice. You can’t make me keep it quiet. It’s cruel and inhumane and against my human rights.’

‘What, against your human right to spill the beans? It’s only for a day or two, Kayla, and I’m taking a risk here ’cos I know what you’re like. So you have to promise me you’ll keep it a secret.’

‘Ugh, OK,’ she says with a grimace. ‘Honestly, the things you ask of me!’

‘What are you two doing out here?’ Ollie steps through the kitchen door and shields his eyes against the glare of the sun. ‘Roger told me you were back here. He said, and I quote: “If that work-shy girlfriend of yours isn’t back behind the bar in two minutes, tell her she can collect her P45”.’

‘Well, Roger can go whistle because Annie and I are out here on very important business.’

Ollie bounds over to Kayla and kisses her on the lips. Straw-blonde hair is flopping into his eyes and his short-sleeved T-shirt shows off his muscled rugby player arms.

‘We were just having a quick chat, Ollie, about girl things.’ I scoot along the wall so he’s got room to sit between us.

‘Annie and Josh are getting married,’ blurts out Kayla.

‘What the—? Really?’ I stare open-mouthed at Kayla who at least has the good grace to look embarrassed.

‘Sorry but you’re asking too much of me. I said I wouldn’t tell anybody but Ollie isn’t anybody. He’s the man I lo—’ she hesitates, ‘like spending time with.’

‘Wow! That’s amazing news, Annie. That Josh is a very lucky man.’ Ollie envelops me in a quick hug and squeezes so tight I can hardly breathe. ‘Marriage isn’t for me and Kayla because we’re both free spirits but it’ll be great for you two. When’s the big day then? ’Cos I’ll have to make sure I get back for it.’

I breathe in slowly in case Ollie’s cracked a rib or two. ‘Back from where? You only live a few miles down the road.’

‘Kayla hasn’t told you then?’ Ollie frowns. ‘I’ve finally been offered that promotion at work. It’s a really big jump up, to regional sales manager for the North-West covering the whole of Cumbria, Lancashire and part of Yorkshire.’

‘Crikey, that’s fantastic, though we’ll miss you. Why didn’t you tell me, Kayla?’

Ollie rests his hand on Kayla’s knee. ‘I only found out late yesterday and we haven’t told anyone else yet. They need me in post by mid-October so I’ll be upping sticks and heading off for good in three months’ time.’

Beside him, Kayla is smiling although her boyfriend is about to abandon her and head up North.

‘What about Kayla?’

A shadow flits across Ollie’s invariably cheerful face. ‘I’ve asked her to come with me and I’m hoping she will. In fact, I’m taking her to the Lake District for a few days to show her the area.’

Kayla gives a slight shake of the head but carries on smiling. It’s very odd.

‘Anyway, I’ve got to go or I’ll miss the late kick-off. I only nipped in to check that we’re on for meeting up later, Kayla.’ Ollie leaps to his feet, shakes out his legs and grins when Kayla gives a mute nod. ‘Brilliant. I’ll pick you up at eight then. And that really is wonderful news, Annie. I’ll ring Josh when I’ve got a signal to say congratulations.’

When he’s bounded off, I fold my arms and wrinkle my nose at Kayla. ‘Ollie, the man you’re crazy about, is moving hundreds of miles away but you don’t seem upset.’

‘Oh, he’s not going anywhere,’ says Kayla, adjusting the straps of her vest top. ‘He says I’ve filled his head with stories about experiencing new places and new opportunities and that’s why he’s giving it a go. But it’s all for show. There’s no way he’ll leave his beloved Cornwall, especially ’cos he knows I’m not keen on moving.’

‘But I thought you were a free spirit, a nomad, an Aussie backpacker who’s only in Salt Bay for a while and can’t bear to be tied down.’

‘Which is true, and I’ve got nothing against moving, per se. But my next move will be south and Ollie knows that. The last couple of winters here have been dire and there’s no way I’m going somewhere with worse weather. If that’s even possible.’ Kayla shudders at the memory of torrential rain and curling Cornish fog that lasted for days. ‘Nope. Ollie’s just trying to make me panic at the thought of him leaving and then he can make a huge gesture and stay.’

‘Um, maybe.’

It doesn’t sound like uncomplicated Ollie’s style at all. Marriage has been off-limits with these two since he proposed in the pub last year and was turned down by a freaked-out Kayla. But the two of them have been pretty much joined at the hip in unmarried bliss since they got back together.

‘Are you quite sure, Kayla? You reckoned the whole going for promotion thing was a ruse, but it’s turned out to be real.’

‘Absolutely sure. Ollie Simpson would rather walk through Salt Bay in a dress than move away from Cornwall and me.’ She flicks her hair from her shoulders and smiles, convinced that her boyfriend can’t possibly live without her. ‘Anyway, onto real and more important things. Are you going to have a big society wedding with lots of guests and a huge do at a posh hotel? Ooh, you can have champagne cocktails and a cake with real gold flakes in it. I saw an amazing one in a magazine once and it wasn’t even poisonous which surprised me.’

Firmly anti-marriage herself, Kayla obviously has no qualms about spending a shedload on someone else’s nuptials.

‘It’s not going to be a big, expensive wedding,’ I tell her, firmly. ‘The ceremony will be at the village church and we’re thinking of having a small reception afterwards at Tregavara House.’

‘Hhmm.’ Kayla looks doubtful. ‘That might work, but you’ll definitely need champagne.’

‘Cava, maybe. But we need to keep a contingency fund for any house repairs so we can’t spend much on a fancy wedding.’

‘This owning property thing is a right drag,’ huffs Kayla. ‘No wonder Josh told Ollie he was worried about it. I think it’s a shame Alice left that valuable painting to Toerag Toby or you could have sold it and had a mahoosive wedding with enough left over for a gold-plated roof. You could have had fireworks and a master of ceremonies to announce all the guests when they arrive. And doves! I saw a programme where the bride and groom released a basket of twenty white doves to signify their enduring love. It was so romantic.’ She gazes dreamily into the distance.

‘We don’t need doves or fireworks or a master of anything, Kayla. All I want is to marry Josh and a small village wedding is fine, so Alice did the right thing about the painting.’

She definitely did because it would break my heart if I had to sell a family heirloom. Toby doesn’t have any such qualms, so the guilt will sit more lightly on his shoulders when he pockets the proceeds.

‘Kayla,’ yells Roger from the kitchen door. ‘You need to get your backside back in here sharpish. I’ve got emmets five-deep at the bar and it’s getting ugly.’

Kayla gets to her feet with a sigh and brushes tiny stones from her backside.

‘I’ll catch up with you later, Annie, but I’m so happy about your news and I promise I’ll keep it a secret. But don’t wait too long before you tell everyone else ’cos there’s only so much keeping quiet I can do.’

When she’s scurried back into the pub, I sit for a while twirling my new ring round and round my finger. Josh has seemed more relaxed about taking on the house since we talked openly about it, but I wonder whether he told Ollie he was worried before or after our cellar heart-to-heart.

Which reminds me… pulling my phone from my bag, I use the Whistling Wave’s Wi-Fi to log into my emails. I got a company in to quote for a brand new roof a few days ago – just out of interest because the roof repair seems solid – and I’m still waiting to hear back.

My inbox is clogged up with spam – delete, delete, delete – and there’s a long list of ailments from Maura in London, who’s pregnant with her second child. She’ll end up giving birth soon after Pippa, a lovely soprano in our choir who’s blooming at the moment.

I scan through Maura’s long email and wince. Eew, who knew that being pregnant could cause itchy nipples and piles? Maura’s never been coy about her body or her feelings and the brakes are off now she’s awash with pregnancy hormones. She’ll probably have an emotional meltdown when she hears I’m getting married.

Two emails below Maura’s I spot the one I’m looking for and click on it. Good grief! I do a double-take when £30,000 leaps out from my phone screen – the estimator has helpfully underlined the figure in red just to make sure it’s even more likely to give me a heart attack. That’s crazy money!

The bubble of wedding euphoria that’s surrounded me since Josh got down on one knee deflates like a pricked balloon. How can we build up a contingency fund like that and get married too? Fireworks and doves, indeed! This is going to be the most cut-price wedding Salt Bay has ever seen.