Gareth was in the office above the shop. It was a small room with two desks, one which he’d moved in for her a few weeks ago. You need a break from cleaning and serving, he’d told her. So now once a week she helped with the books or other bits of admin he found for her. She was currently typing names and telephone numbers of their suppliers and customers into a new machine. A personal computer, Gareth had told her proudly. Apparently it was the answer to all the world’s problems. When she asked what problems, he’d answered ominously, face serious: Paper. If we don’t use machines in thirty years’ time they’ll be no trees left anywhere. Computers, he’d said, were the future. She wasn’t so sure. It seemed ever so time-consuming to have to type it all in.

Angie turned the fryers on and stared down at the tiny bubbles of heat forming in the orange oil.

‘Angie?’

Gareth was watching her from the doorway.

‘Would you eat lunch with me?’

‘But what about the shop?’

‘Rose’ll be in soon. She’s happy to cover for a while.’

Angie hesitated.

‘I’ll still pay you.’

‘You can’t pay me to have lunch with you.’

‘If I could, you’d be a millionaire.’

She smiled.

They walked down to the Old Success and sat outside and ordered half a lager each and two cheese Ploughman’s. The sun was hot. It had been a glorious few weeks, with hardly any rain, which was great for business and kept Sennen buzzing. Tourists ambled up and down the streets and the car parks were overflowing. The beach, too, was full. People cheek by jowl. Towels, inflatables, buckets and spades, crabbing nets, cool boxes filled with sandwiches in tin foil, a patchwork of picnic rugs across the yellow sand.

Angie smiled as she watched two children dash down to the break of the waves only to squeal as they touched the icy water then turn to hare back up the beach.

‘I miss mine being small,’ she said.

‘They don’t care for me much, do they?’

She considered denying it, but in the end patted his hand. ‘Don’t take it personally. They don’t understand.’ She hesitated. ‘They miss their dad, that’s all. The family isn’t the same without him. It’s incomplete. Like a jigsaw puzzle that’s missing a bit.’

He pushed his plate aside and leant forward. ‘I want to ask you something.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking and I changed my mind. When we kissed—’

‘Gareth, I—’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Let me finish. I know I’m not perfect, but maybe perfect isn’t what you need? Maybe a bit less than perfect is okay?’ He paused and took a breath. ‘Marry me, Angie. I love you and I promise I’ll do all I can to make you happy.’