Stefan shut the door and joined her. ‘I’ll finish up and take the van back to the unit,’ he said.

‘Thanks, but I can’t leave you to pack and hitch up all on your own,’ she said, with half an eye on Gabe still gassing to the publican. Sam couldn’t hear him above the choir singing ‘Lamorna’.

‘Just take the offer for once. You look knackered anyway.’

Sam gasped. ‘Wow. Thanks, Stef! I love you too.’

‘Don’t be distracted by any handsome strangers on your way home,’ Stefan whispered in her ear, pointing his finger at Gabe.

Before the rude word was out of Sam’s mouth, he’d jogged away towards the pick-up, jingling the keys in the air.

Sam lingered, tucking into a squashed rejected pie that she’d set aside for her own dinner. With their soaring, haunting voices, the choir made her hair stand on end. The accents and songs were so Cornish they captured what she loved about Porthmellow. She caught sight of Gabe, standing apart, a pint in his hand. She saw his mouth move. He was singing along with everyone else.

So now I’ll sing to you, ’Tis about a maiden fair …

It was a famous folk song about a roving husband. Sam had heard it a hundred times before, but she imagined his deep voice as he sang, a little out of tune, but lusty and strong. You can take the man out of Porthmellow …

She and Gabe still had that connection, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. They had Porthmellow in their veins, they had their love of food, the need to nurture and care for their family, friends and neighbours … Why had he ruined all that? Could the rift between them ever be healed?

Shaking her head at such fanciful notions, Sam left the van and walked down the quayside to take the coastal path route up to her cottage, finishing her supper.

She couldn’t help thinking of Stefan’s joke about Gabe … Except Gabe was no stranger, and that was part of the problem. At one time she’d known every inch of his tanned, toned body. He certainly knew every inch of hers.

She thought how Gabe had always supported her before and after they’d started dating. She’d lost count of the times he’d brought round supper for the three Lovells from the chip shop after their mum had died. Kebabs and salad, plaice and chips. Hardly gourmet cuisine and not that healthy, but devoured by three hungry young people. Without the Mathias family’s help and that of their neighbours, the Lovells might have gone hungry because some nights in the early days, Sam had been too exhausted by grief and work to cook a proper meal.