Cooking lunch, shovelling clothes into the washing machine and scrubbing the bathroom until it’s gleaming helps to work off my agitation. And by the time I’ve washed up our plates and the omelette pan, I’m feeling more confident that our B&B plan might work. Knackered too, but exhaustion is a price worth paying for calm and clarity.

Josh disappeared straight after lunch and I find him in the garden, digging the hell out of the vegetable patch. He’s so busy he doesn’t spot me and I sit for a while on the bench where I used to sit and chat with Alice.

It’s lovely watching Josh work out his frustration. He’s taken his shirt off and the muscles in his lightly tanned back ripple and glisten under the sun. I’m starting to feel rather hot myself when Storm and Emily wander into the garden and plonk themselves down either side of me. It’s quite sweet that they’re spending so much time together these days – especially as they hated each other at first. Back then, they were chalk and cheese: sweet, naïve Emily with her old-lady fashion sense and bolshie, streetwise Storm with her bellybutton ring. But they’ve forged a firm friendship.

‘Isn’t it a bit hot to be digging, even if you are half naked – which is totally inappropriate?’ Storm shields her eyes against the glare of the sun. ‘Mate,’ she calls out, ‘do us all a favour and put a top on!’

Josh ignores her but pauses briefly to wipe his damp fringe out of his eyes.

‘Don’t blame me if he gives himself a coronary at his age. Or if a photo of his chest mysteriously appears on the school Facebook page,’ huffs Storm, pulling her phone from her jeans pocket. There’s a huge expanse of skin above the waistband because her tiny black crop-top finishes just under her boobs. ‘What’s he in a mood about anyway?’

‘Nothing. He’s fine. Actually, it’s good you’re both here because I wanted to run something by you.’ I take a deep breath. ‘We’re thinking of running this place as a B&B and we might have a bloke called Jacques Bouton staying with us for a few days as a try-out, to see if it might work.’

‘That’s a weird name,’ says Storm, snapping photos of Josh.

‘He’s from Paris.’

‘So let me get this straight. Some random bloke from Paris is going to be sleeping here. Some random bloke who’ll probably go mad in the night and slaughter us in our beds.’

‘Monsieur Bouton is actually the chief executive of a bakery business who’s visiting Cornwall on holiday for a few days. So, unless he’s going to batter us to death with croissants, I think we’ll be all right.’

‘That’s outrageous! You go full-on mental about me eating too many burgers but you’re happy to let some weirdo you’ve never met before sleep next to my bedroom.’

Storm’s mouth sets into a thin line and my heart sinks. I know that look, and if Storm launches into full passive-aggressive mode while our guest is staying it’ll be a disaster. He’ll return to la belle France deafened by all the door slamming.

‘Look, Storm, we have no choice. This is something we have to try.’

‘Is that ’cos you’re having trouble keeping this house going?’

I give Storm a sideways glance. She’s usually teenage-oblivious to anything that doesn’t directly affect her. Although I guess losing the roof over your head is pretty much the definition of ‘directly affected’.

When I don’t answer, she shrugs. ‘I do hear what you and Josh are saying, even when you think you’re being all secretive, and roof tiles trying to smash my head in is a bit of a giveaway that this house is falling down. You could have told me. How much will the roof cost anyway?’

‘A lot.’

‘How much is a lot?’

‘A new roof will cost about thirty thousand pounds.’

‘That roofer bloke’s having a laugh,’ splutters Storm while, beside her, Emily rapidly blinks her pale blue eyes. ‘That’s it then. We’ll have to leave and I’ll end up back in London where I’ll probably die in a crack den and get eaten by rats.’

I can’t help but laugh at the look of horror on Emily’s face.

‘No one’s going back to London. If we move, we move together but hopefully it won’t come to that. The roof’s fine for the time being and the B&B idea might work and bring in some money to keep us afloat.’

‘Do you want me to move out?’ blurts Emily, long mousey-brown hair falling across her pale face. ‘I’m a dead-weight now Alice’s gone and I’m hardly bringing in any money from temping. I’ll totally understand if you want me to go.’

‘Of course we don’t want you to go, Emily, and Alice didn’t want that either which is why she specifically mentioned you in her will. You’ll have a home with us for as long as you want it.’

‘That was so sweet of Alice.’ Emily wipes away the tear that’s sliding down her cheek. ‘But you don’t have to stick by it now she’s gone. After all, I’m not real family.’

‘What’s real family anyway? Growing up it was just me and Mum and now my family’s grown to include Josh and the people he loves and Barry and Storm and you, and Toby too, for better or worse. Anyway, I was thinking you could head up the B&B business if it comes off.’

‘What, me?’ Emily checks behind her in case some stranger with a shedload of hospitality qualifications has wandered in off the street. ‘You mean me, running things?’

‘Yes, you, if you’d like to. You’re caring and organised and a good cook, and I think you’d be great at it. Though it’s just a plan at the moment and might never happen so don’t get too excited.’

‘Wow!’ When Emily smiles, her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. ‘That sounds brilliant and I’d try really hard to do a good job. You’re so much nicer to me than my proper family and I really don’t want to move out.’

‘You won’t need to move out and, Storm, you’ll always have a home here too as long as we do all we can to keep things going. Which means…’

‘Yeah, yeah… letting random men into the house.’

‘And being polite to said random men.’

‘Whatever. Come on, Ems. I’ll give you a lesson on using eyeliner ’cos the last time you tried it you looked like a panda.’

‘I don’t need to use eyeliner now I’m off men.’

Storm sighs and shakes her head. ‘You still have so much to learn, Emily. Using eyeliner isn’t about attracting men. It goes deeper than that. It’s about enhancing what nature gave you and feeding your soul. It’s about your self-esteem and self-worth.’

Emily frowns, unconvinced by Storm’s cod psychology when it comes to make-up, but she allows herself to be led towards the house.

‘Hey, Storm,’ I call after them. ‘Those photos had better not appear anywhere online.’

‘Whatever,’ drifts across the garden as the girls disappear into the kitchen.

Josh winks at me, his bad mood eased by hard labour, but my own mood is dipping fast. Placing my hand on the sun-warmed bench where Alice used to sit, I look past the cliffs and towards the harbour wall, which is glistening with spray at high tide.

A young woman in a tight scarlet sundress, who’s standing looking out to sea, grabs the hands of her young family so they won’t slip. And even though she’s a size eight with honey-blonde hair and two perfect children, I realise that we have a lot in common. We’re both doing what we can to protect the people we love.

My life has come full circle. As a child, I was the grown-up because Mum needed looking after. Then I fended for myself as an adult in London which was fine – it was all I’d ever known. But all that changed when I came to Salt Bay and met Alice, who cared for me while I watched over her. I relaxed and stopped feeling responsible for everything all the damn time. But now the weight of responsibility is back, even with Josh here to support me.

Closing my eyes, I listen to water lapping against stone and reflect on the fact that this being grown-up thing is a bit pants.

---

Later that evening I behave in a way that isn’t grown-up at all. In fact it’s probably downright childish but I need to hear what Toby has to say for himself and tell him what I think of his plans for our home. So I walk to the phone box on the green with Toby’s number in my pocket.

This makes me a hideous hypocrite, I know, because I stopped Josh from calling him. But the difference is I’m not going to lose my temper and inflame the situation. Oh no. I intend to be as cool as a cucumber.

My plan starts going awry from the moment Toby answers the phone.

‘Ann-ee!’ he coos down the line as though I’ve suddenly become his BFF. ‘How lovely to hear from you. I presume you’re ringing to accept my very generous offer?’

But he drops the charm like a hot brick when he hears that’s not why I’m ringing at all.

‘You want to talk about something else? What else is there to talk about?’ he snaps. ‘I’ve got a cab arriving any minute so you’d better be quick. I don’t want to pay for someone to sit outside my flat.’

‘I was hoping to have a word about your plans for the house.’

‘I was under the impression you and Pasco wanted to stay on in the house after I’ve bought it and paid out a significant sum for a new roof.’

‘We’d love to stay on, but I understand you’re planning on carving up the house into holiday flats.’ Silence. ‘Toby, are you still there?’

There’s more empty space down the phone line before Toby answers, speaking slowly as though carefully choosing each word.

‘“Carving” is rather an emotive word, don’t you think? I’d rather use “transforming” or “improving” or even “enhancing”. And how the hell did you hear about my plans anyway?’

‘That doesn’t matter. What does matter is, one, you lied to us to encourage us to sell to you and, two, Alice would hate you damaging the house.’

Oops, my resolve to be a beacon of serenity in the face of Toby playing hard and fast with the truth is starting to slip.

‘There you go again using emotive words like “lie” and “damage”.’ Toby laughs as though I’m a silly child wasting his time, which really doesn’t help my self-control. ‘Here I am, offering you a good price and the house will still belong to a Trebarwith which seems to be important to you.’

‘But you’d knock the house down if you could.’

‘But I can’t so what’s the problem? Are you being hysterical because you’re trying to say you won’t sell me the house?’

Ugh. Falsely accusing a woman of hysteria is the last refuge of a patronising prat. Clenching my teeth, I rest my forehead against the cool glass of the telephone box and force myself to focus on the clear, soothing water of the river. I wish I was floating down to the sea and onwards towards the horizon.

‘Annie?’ Toby’s tinny voice sounds in my ear. ’I said are you saying you won’t ever sell to me?’

That’s what I want to say, more than anything, but Josh’s face pops into my head. His tired, stressed, sensible face when he’s trying to make ends meet and do the best for all of us.

‘No,’ I sigh. ‘All I’m saying is that we haven’t made up our minds yet.’

‘Then you need to get on with it because my offer won’t be on the table forever. And my car’s here so I have to go. We’ll speak again soon and I’m sure you’ll make the right decision if you stop overreacting. At the end of the day’ – Toby gives a short laugh just before ending the call – ‘it’s only a house.’

I place the phone back into its cradle, step outside the box and take several gulps of clean, fresh air – because talking to Toby always leaves me feeling slightly grubby. Toby’s final words are still ringing in my head because they sum up the problem perfectly. To Toby, it’s only a house whereas to me and Josh and Storm and Emily, it’s a home.