She goes into the café, smiles at the owners, Rob and Andy, who always greet her so warmly, and glances around. Amy hasn’t arrived yet but this isn’t surprising. She tells the boys she’s waiting for someone and goes to sit at one of the window tables looking down on to the path that runs between the High Street and the car park. From this vantage point she’ll see Amy approaching. She wonders what is so urgent that it can’t wait until their Thursday meeting and hopes that it isn’t a serious problem. Amy’s voice sounded tense, excited. Thinking about it, Charley reflects that there was nothing that implied bad news in that voice. It was more that Amy was bubbling over with something that simply had to be shared, something exciting, extraordinary.

Charley hopes it’s something good. Perhaps Amy has fallen in love. There was a boy at Falmouth that she went around with but it was a pretty calm kind of romance, not the world-shattering, earth-moving kind of passion that makes you identify with all the love songs ever written. Charley gives a reminiscent sigh and looks out of the window.

Amy is hurrying into view, her bag clutched over her shoulder, curls escaping from their combs and, as Charley watches, she knows that her suspicions are confirmed. There is something indefinable in Amy’s expression, the upward curve of the lips, the glancing brightness of her eyes, that sets her apart. A man passing in the other direction turns to glance back appreciatively at her, and Charley begins to laugh.

‘Pheromones, darling,’ she says to herself. ‘Good old pheromones.’

And, as Amy hurries into the café, Charley gets to her feet and stretches out her arms to her. Amy hugs her tightly and then inexplicably begins to laugh.

‘This is so crazy,’ she says. ‘But I just needed to see you. Now. Before Thursday.’

Charley releases herself and sits down again. ‘I think I’d grasped that.’

Amy sits opposite, takes a deep breath as if she’s been running. She glances up at Rob, who gives her a menu, smiles at him and sits staring at it. Charley watches her for a moment and decides to take control of the situation.

‘Veggie lasagne,’ she says to Rob. ‘OK with you, Amy? You know you love that.’

‘Whatever,’ says Amy randomly. ‘Yes. Vegetable lasagne would be great.’

Charley smiles up at Rob. ‘And two elderflower pressés? Thanks.’

She sits back and studies Amy, who beams at her. ‘Is Jack OK? Work flowing in? All good in Salcombe?’

‘Yes,’ answers Amy, visibly pulling herself together. ‘Yes, everything’s fine. Dad’s in great form.’

Charley waits. The pressés and the cutlery arrive. Amy fiddles with a fork.

‘The thing is,’ she says slowly. ‘Well, the thing is, Charley, I’ve met this man …’

CHAPTER SEVEN