Given the way my heart reacted when our fingers touched as he passed me the box, Sam was still more than capable of warming me up, but I wished he wasn’t. There might have been no chance of acting on my feelings for him, but that apparently wasn’t going to stop me having them. It was all very inconvenient, not to mention frustrating.

‘Tess?’

‘Hey, Hope.’ I flushed as she popped up right on cue and looked delighted to see me.

‘I thought I heard your voice,’ she beamed, rushing around the bar and relieving me of the box so she could administer the hug I had come to expect every time I saw either her or Sophie.

She looked beautiful with her dark hair braided and pulled away from her face and wearing clothes so full of colour it was impossible to believe the weather outside was wall to wall grey. Had I tried to wear anything like that, I would have looked as washed out as Wynmouth currently did, but with Hope’s stunning skin tone and natural vibrancy she was a reminder of the summer which was, hopefully, waiting in the wings.

‘You look amazing,’ I told her. ‘I can’t believe you can cook and still look like that.’

‘Mum’s doing most of it,’ she said, waving my compliment away. ‘I’m just her sous chef really. Come and see what she’s making.’

She took my hand and led me through to the kitchen where Sophie was rustling up another fascinating fusion using Norfolk produce and adding her own unique twist. The spiced chicken smelt delicious, as did the curried vegetables.

‘There’s not masses,’ said Hope, as her mum continued to alternately chop and stir with her back to us. ‘But there should be enough to give everyone a little taste.’

Noticing the size of the pans, there looked like there would be more than enough to go around, but I knew Sophie liked the people she was responsible for feeding to be well full. Her portion control at the café was testament to that and Hope obviously felt the same way.

‘Tess,’ said Sophie, turning to smile at the pair of us as we stood side by side with our arms linked, while trying not to interrupt her creative gastronomic flow. ‘Sam said he was hoping that you were going to come. It’s lovely to see you.’

Her eyes tracked from me to Hope and back again. There was something searching about her gaze, but it was gone in a moment. I hoped she hadn’t caught on to the fact that I had a bit of a crush on her daughter’s other half. That would be mortifying.

‘Anything beats staring at four walls,’ I told her, feeling my face colour. ‘Not that they aren’t lovely walls.’ I gabbled. ‘I didn’t mean that I’m not happy with the cottage.’