‘I know,’ Tamsyn said. ‘I’m telling you, this is the beginning of a renaissance in the Cornish fashion industry, and Castle House is going to become the jewel in the crown. It’s going to be wonderful!’

Sue was thrilled and, more than that, happy. It had been a whirlwind few weeks since Tamsyn had started to move her business into the building, weeks in which she had had a crash course in running a business, interviews with half the sewing circle, many of whom were now coming out of retirement to start making couture wedding gowns for Tamsyn and applying for various grants to help get the old place back on its feet, not that she needed it because about a month ago a specialist heritage restoration company arrived, and presented her with a fully paid purchase order to take on the long and expensive job of fixing her roof.

‘This is crazy,’ Sue had told the workman. ‘I can’t afford this!’

‘You don’t have to,’ the workman told her. ‘It’s all paid for.’

‘But I … I don’t understand,’ Sue said. ‘Who paid for it?’

‘Oh that’s right, there’s this that came with it,’ the roofer remembered and he produced a plain white envelope from his back pocket, with her name scrawled on the front in black ink.

Sue ripped it open and took out a handwritten note.

Sue, don’t be angry. When we met at Christmas you gave me a really great gift, a gift I didn’t know that I wanted – a glimpse of what life could be like, with a woman as wonderful as you. Well, I was raised to be polite and, as you won’t let me take you to Monaco, I got you something I know you do want. A roof. Please don’t turn it down, or send the guy away, he was really delighted to get the business, and he’s a good guy. I’m on location in Tunisia at the moment, but I think about you often. It makes me happy to know that you won’t get wet when it rains.
All the best, Blake.

Sue had smiled as she read the note again, hugging it to her chest. The gift had been exceptionally generous, but it was more than that. The idea that he still thought of her at all made her ridiculously happy.

‘Thank you,’ she’d said to her new contractor. ‘When can you get started?’

Work was still in progress on the roof, and Sue had to admit that the scaffolding and kerfuffle could have been annoying, but whenever she tripped over a wheelbarrow, or woke up at the crack of dawn to the sound of hammering, she thought of Blake and his sweetness, and she smiled. Who could believe that something that wonderful could have happened to boring old Sue Montaigne. Except that she didn’t feel nearly as boring or as old any more.