‘True.’ She laughed and began to stroll with his hand still in hers. ‘I need to make a new start. Tomorrow I have to try to sort things out with the V&A, if I can, and once that’s done, I need to find a job and a place to live.’

‘What do you want to do?’

She looked around and saw his cousin closing the café. That bracelet. The mussel shell. The sea glass. ‘Maybe I want to create jewellery inspired by the beach and by Cornwall.’

‘Not grand designs?’

She laughed. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy that, but a bit like Gran’s jewels, they don’t get worn but sit in a box most of the time. It would be good to make more affordable pieces.’ There had been one thing she’d glimpsed among Gran’s jewels that had stirred her imagination. It was a brooch with a large central aquamarine encircled in ribbon-like threads of silver studded with small crystals. The colour of the stone had brought the sea glass cabochon in the entrance hall of Boskenna to mind. With sea glass, she could create pieces that could be worn every day and enjoyed.

‘Then why don’t you do it?’

‘Easier said than done.’

‘Well, there is more than enough space here at Boskenna for a workshop or four.’

She smiled.

‘In fact, you could run jewellery-making workshops, you could even host weekend courses using the house to put people up.’

She turned to look up to the house. ‘Gramps . . .’

‘I don’t think he’d object. He’d love the company.’ He smiled.

‘Maybe, but of course . . .’

‘What?’ He gave her a sideways glance.

‘The house now belongs to Mum.’

‘Oh.’

‘She’s keen on the V&A exhibition launching me again.’

‘That’s not a bad idea. Then you could begin your business again with that on your CV.’

‘You make it all sound simple.’

‘Nothing worthwhile is ever simple, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.’

She laughed and looked up at the cloudless sky. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘That’s definitely a start. And you’re not tied down to anyone.’

‘No.’ The relief was still overwhelming, but she felt lighter.

‘So, a new beginning?’

‘Possibly.’ She took a step towards him and kissed him. He stilled, and regret ran over her like the sea over her feet at that very moment. But then she felt him smile against her lips and his arms wrap around her.

‘I’ve been longing for this for years,’ he whispered.

‘Me too.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve dreamed of it.’

‘A kiss to build a dream on . . .’ he said before he kissed her again.

90. Diana

90

Diana

6 August 1962, 6.30 p.m.

Dragging her feet, Diana went into the garden shed to find a small spade. She put the Russian dolls down on a shelf and looked through the various tools.