Sam considered washing and drying the hanky, but in the end, a few days later, she had thrown it away. She’d never be able to get it clean and it was sentimental to keep a reminder of Gabe.

She’d had a hectic time on top of her festival duties partly because her pick-up had been in for a service. Stefan had towed the mobile van to a music event with his old Jeep and done a run to the cash and carry for some basic supplies but Sam still missed her own transport.

Despite being so busy, her mind kept returning to her cliff-top encounter with Gabe. She was still regretting saying as much as she had to him and showing her emotions so clearly. She’d lashed out again – the opposite of the ‘civil’ relationship she’d claimed she wanted. But perhaps that had been a hopeless dream from the start. She and Gabe had once been passionately in love, so perhaps there could and never would be any middle ground for them. Perhaps it had to be either love or hate. As for her fleeting idea that Gabe might have an ulterior motive in coming back … well, why would he?

All these questions bubbled away in the cauldron at the back of her mind as she walked home after another busy day in the kitchen on a fine June evening. The nights were long and the days rapidly warming up. She’d been working in a tank top and shorts but even so, the heat of the ovens and the physical effort was enough to make her long for a nice cool bath and one of Zennor’s strawberry daiquiris at the cottage. The whoops of teenagers leaping into the harbour carried on the still air as she walked up the lane home. Summer was well and truly on its way, and hopefully, with a bit of luck, they’d have a fine day for the festival. She was almost at the cottage when she saw Evie Carman pushing her roller down the hill towards her.

‘Sam!’

Evie speeded up, scooting along at a pace Sam wouldn’t have thought possible. She could see Evie was wincing with every step. Trying to rush down the hill on swollen knees must have been agony so Sam ran over to meet her.

‘S-sam. S-so glad I’ve seen y-you.’

‘What’s up, Evie? Is everything all right?’

‘No. Not really. It’s him. Troy. The silly old fool’s done something bad to his shoulder and now he’s in agony. He won’t thank me for telling you, but I’m desperate, to be honest. I think he needs to go to A&E.’

‘Oh no. poor Troy …’

‘He hurt it pulling down a box of books. I told him not to do it but he won’t listen to me.’