Stargazey was her bread and butter, or rather, her pie and mash. It had also helped to feed and clothe Zennor, until she’d finished studying and established her own successful graphics design company with Ben. The two of them had set up ZenBen Graphics in an old garage premises in the back streets behind the harbour and were doing well, in a modest way, designing websites, ads, publicity material and signs.

Sam pushed open the door of Stargazey, unhooked her apron from the staffroom door and started to wash her hands.

‘What time of day do you call this?’ Stefan stood in the doorway to the kitchen area, holding out blue latex-gloved hands dusted in flour. Stargazey made all its own crimped pie cases, using a traditional all-butter pastry that Sam had perfected over the years.

‘I’ve had a few problems, sorry I’m running late.’

‘You’re drenched.’ Stefan tutted and rolled his eyes. He was part right-hand man, part surrogate father to Sam and had been a friend of her mother’s. He acted as if he were the boss, could be snarky and sarcastic but he had a heart of solid twenty-two-carat gold, and Sam would have hated to lose him from her business or her life.

‘I know.’

‘Were these festival problems, by any chance?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes. I was putting up posters—’

‘In this weather? Have I ever told you that you’re mad as a box of frogs?’

‘Many times.’ She smiled, thinking of Bryony’s barks almost toppling her off the ladder. ‘Sadly, the rain’s the least of my worries. Our headline chef’s pulled out.’ Sam tugged an attractive blue hair net over her mop of russet curls. She reached for a pristine white overall from the staff cupboard.

‘Kris Zachary?’ Stefan pulled a face. ‘Can’t say I’m devastated about that. He has far too high an opinion of himself, that man. Thinks he’s God’s gift to focaccia, though Kieran fancies him … says he has “twinkly eyes” and was hoping you’d introduce him. Personally, I’m always worried one of the hairs from his goatee will end up in one of his dishes.’

Sam burst out laughing, despite her worries about the festival. Kieran was Stefan’s husband. They’d been together for the past eight years. Kieran did the accounts for Stargazey and audited the festival finances free of charge.

‘I’m afraid Kieran isn’t going to be able to get a selfie with Kris any time soon. He’s facing a possible trial for fraud, apparently, and I guess that’ll be all over the web soon, as if we didn’t have enough to do.’

Stefan tutted. ‘You know I think you’re mad running the festival and this place at the same time. This town doesn’t know how lucky they are to have you.’