‘It starts, I mean.’ He smiled that charming crooked smile. ‘It’s a technical term. What’s in Cornwall, anyway?’

I gave a diffident sort of shrug. ‘I’ve got a little house,’ I said. I’d gone off the subject now. ‘Well, not a house. A cottage.’

‘Oh, right. How nice. Very To the Manor Born.’

I flushed angrily. ‘Hardly. I inherited it.’ That didn’t sound much better. ‘I mean – it was my grandmother’s. Her home. Her only home.’

‘And she doesn’t live there any more?’

‘No. She’s gone a bit – she’s got dementia. She’s in care. She left it to me. In her living will.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘I know,’ I said stiffly. ‘I’m very lucky. I do know that. Though I’d rather have my gran back.’ I turned towards the sink and swilled my cup out. ‘I’m her – I’m her only surviving relative, you see. Since my mum –’

Like a dragon rushing from its lair, a train to God-knew-where went speeding past. I wished vehemently that I was on it.

‘Since your mum what, Maggie?’ Seb asked quietly. He was behind me now.

‘Forget it.’

‘Maggie!’ Seb tried to turn me round, but I shrugged him off. The eggs had congealed horribly on the hob.

‘Maggie, babe –’

‘That reminds me. I still can’t find the bloody key for Pendarlin.’ I ransacked the pottery bowl for the fiftieth time this week. ‘I just can’t think –’

‘Maggie, look at me. What’s wrong? What happened to your mum?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re hiding something. You have been since I met you.’

‘Hiding? Me? Why would I be hiding anything?’ I met his look full-on this time with challenge in my eyes.

‘You’ve got to let me in, Maggie, if you want this to work.’

‘For God’s sake! You sound like the great Renee Owens, you know.’ I laughed with derision, without mirth. It always came down to this and I loathed it; hated being backed into this claustrophobic corner. Seb just looked bemused.

‘Why are you being like this? I don’t understand –’

‘You want to know about my mum? I’ll tell you, shall I?’ I caught my reflection in the mirror behind him: my hair all up on end, my eyes blazing, two spots of colour scalding my cheeks, the rest of my face as pale as death.

Seb stared at me like I was crazy.

‘Don’t look at me like that.’ I almost stamped my foot in frustration.

‘Like what? Maggie, this is ridiculous.’

‘Like you know what’s inside.’

‘Inside what?’ He pushed his hair back distractedly, utterly perplexed. ‘I’m lost, babe.’

‘Inside me. Inside my mother. The thing you want to know is this, you see.’ I nearly stopped but I couldn’t. It came flying out like that high-speed train. ‘My mother – my beautiful, my wonderful mother – she went quite mad.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three