Edie stood outside the shop in St Just and took a couple of deep breaths, readying herself to face Tamsyn. There was no sign of her when she pushed open the door, just an old man in a striped apron, who flashed her his twinkly eyes and gave a cheery good morning.

‘Are you Ted?’

‘That’s me!’ he said, as if he’d won a prize.

‘My name’s Edie Davenport—’

‘Ahhh, you’ll be after Tamsyn, then?’

Edie looked at him in surprise then nodded. ‘Yes. Is she here? She works here on Monday mornings, doesn’t she?’

‘Not today, love. She’s poorly. Off the week her mum said.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Edie recalled Tamsyn’s face when she’d pulled away from her at the tin mine. She wished she’d done something different. Reacted better. It had been such a shock. She should have seen it coming, but she’d been so wound up with her mother, with how bad things had been since the morning after the party, she’d been caught off-guard. The house had been a nightmare, filled with screeching, sobbing, slammed doors, her parents’ friends leaving quickly and quietly, whilst exchanging looks. Then, of course, the relentless drinking until her mother collapsed in a heap on the sofa.

God, how could she have been so blind to the signs? Why did Tamsyn have to fall in love with her?

‘Can you tell me where she lives? I’d really like to see her.’

‘Of course, love. It’s 17 Queen Street, just off the Cape Cornwall Road. It’s the one with the light blue door and the pretty window boxes.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Not at all,’ he said, then added, ‘She said you were nice.’

Edie found the house quite easily. It was a narrow road with terraced houses on both sides. Bins in the small front yards. Iron pedestrian gates to most of the houses and front doors in a rainbow of colours. Though in need of painting, Tamsyn’s house was neat and tidy from the outside. There was a short pathway that led from the pavement to the doorstep, which was cracked and uneven, but swept clean and free of weeds. There was a small white-framed window to her right with a window box filled with red flowers she didn’t know the name of.

She stood on the doorstep and battled the nerves which dogged her. She had no idea what she was going to say and part of her wanted to turn and run away. But she knew she needed to check on Tamsyn. Her hand trembled horribly when she raised it to knock.

When she heard footsteps approaching the door she took a deep breath, ready to blurt out an apology for reacting so badly. But it wasn’t Tamsyn who opened the door. It was Jago and her stomach twisted.

His eyes dropped to the floor to avoid looking at her.