He smiled to himself. Suzy was a great PA, but one of those types who thought civilisation ended at the M25. ‘I can do most of my work things online and drive or fly back here for anything else. Porthmellow’s not the moon, you know.’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never been.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll get onto it but it won’t be easy. Finding a place for that long in prime holiday season … I’ll do my best, but you might end up in a caravan.’

‘I don’t really mind what it is as long as it’s close to the village. Pay what you have to.’

Gabe put down the phone. A mix of fear and exhilaration coursed through his veins, but he couldn’t deny the truth. Despite all the ill feeling and bad memories, when it came to the crunch, he didn’t have the heart to let down Porthmellow in its hour of need – and certainly not Sam.

Chapter Five

@Pastyking: This festivul is crap. More feckin’ grockels. #summerfestival #wasstoftime

Sam rolled her eyes as she scrolled through her Twitter feed. There were always going to be some folk who weren’t into the festival spirit. It did take over the town for days, after all. Parking could be a nightmare and the streets were packed with visitors from all over the country. However, if people were going to troll the festival, she thought, she at least wished they could spell.

She shoved her phone in her bag, determined not to read any more social media posts for the rest of the day and closed the cottage door behind her with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day, starting at dawn in the rain, working hard at Stargazey topped off with Chloe’s bombshell about Gabe headlining the festival.

She walked into the sitting room where Zennor was cleaning out the guinea pig palace. The pigs themselves were snuffling around the floor, wheeking in delight while Zennor scraped their dirty hay into a bag. Sam had to smile at the contrast of the yellow Marigolds with her sister’s outfit: DMs, leather leggings, a tutu and their mum’s floppy felt hat.

Colt-like and slender, Zennor affected an eclectic, ‘trolley dash round the charity shop’ look. She could throw on a bin bag and still look cool, thought Sam.

Sam tossed her bag on the floor and collapsed onto the sofa with a huge sigh.

‘How are Harry and Gareth this evening?’ she said as she placed a cushion on her lap and scooped Gareth onto it, feeling his soft black and white fur under her fingers. He was a shy and delicate soul, but he let her stroke him and uttered little yips of pleasure

Zennor smiled. ‘OK. Harry’s lively enough, but Gareth seems down in the dumps.’

Sam stroked his head with her fingertip. ‘Aww, Gareth. What’s up?’