Page 25 of Summer at the Cornish Garden Café

Thomas found himself wondering if they walked down to the beach now, would they see Branok and Demelza, hand in hand as they waded into the waves. They had found their eternal love and neither time, age nor death had been able to extinguish its flame.

To find a love like that would be a wonderful thing.

And when Lena looked up at him and smiled her beautiful smile, his heart skipped a beat, and he knew in that moment what his fate was meant to be. If only Lena would be able to see past his scars and to love him, just the way he was. It was a lot to ask of anyone and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to ask it of her.

14

LENA

Four days after the village fair, Lena was in the village browsing the shops. June had arrived, bringing warmer weather, and she needed some more summery clothes. Living in the small flat in London, she hadn’t had much storage space and so she’d often had an annual clear out of old clothes. This meant though, that she was short on summer wear and so she’d decide to treat herself. There were a few surf shops and small boutiques in the village, so she was keen to see if she could grab some bargains.

She entered the surf shop closest to the village square and looked around. There were rails of sale items at the front, so she decided to look at those first. As she was browsing, she heard voices, so looked up and saw a pregnant woman leaning on the counter speaking to a tall, broad man. She recognised them as Thomas’ sister and brother-in-law.

‘Are you sure that’s the only one you want, Bligh?’ the woman, Marnie, asked.

‘It’s fine. I only need one,’ he replied.

‘But you could have it in navy and brown.’ Marnie shifted from one foot to the other as if standing for any amount of time was difficult.

‘The navy one is fine.’ Bligh smiled and touched his wife’s arm. ‘I’ll pay for it then we can go and get you some lunch.’

‘That’s the best idea you’ve had all day,’ Marnie replied.

Lena watched as Marnie cupped her bump with both hands and a twinge of longing pierced her chest. She wasn’t jealous and wished Marnie well, but she also wondered what it would be like holding a rounded bump of her own.

As the couple walked towards the door, Marnie smiled at her. ‘They have some amazing bargains here at the moment. I told Bligh to get two of these hoodies while they’re discounted but he won’t listen.’ She gave an eye roll.

‘I don’t need two, Marnie. I have plenty of hoodies at home but did want a navy one,’ Bligh said.

‘You’ll regret it when we get home.’ Marnie shook her head.

‘I won’t regret it, I promise,’ Bligh said. ‘Hello, Lena, this is my wife, Marnie. I don’t think you’ve been introduced?’

‘We haven’t but it’s nice to meet you, Lena.’ Marnie held out her hand and Lena shook it.

‘Likewise.’ Lena smiled.

‘Right then, lunch it is.’ Bligh held open the door for his wife.

‘Have a good day.’ Marnie flashed a smile at Lena.

‘You too!’ Lena called as they left the shop.

Lena selected a pink jumper from the rail and held it up against herself in front of the mirror. It was soft and baggy, and not what she’d come looking for but it was half price so she decided to get it. She wandered around the shop and picked up a few more things then went to the counter to pay.

While the shop assistant put the clothes in a bag, Lena thought about Thomas and how much she liked him, about how brave he’d been telling her about what had happened to him and how she wished she could take his pain away. They had messaged in the days since the fair and he’d made her laugh with some of the things he said. For a man who’d been a professional footballer at the top of his game, there was nothing arrogant about him. He was kind and funny, sweet and vulnerable. She knew part of that would be because of what he’d been through but also, she couldn’t imagine him being horrible to anyone. Some of the footballers she’d encountered in her time as a journalist had been full of their own self-importance and she’d actively disliked them, but trying to imagine Thomas fitting into that mould was almost impossible. But then some people, Thomas included at first, had expected her to be a story hungry journalist with no compassion for others, and she’d never been that person. She’d battled her conscience over the years as she’d tried to find stories that wouldn’t cause others harm. Some stories needed reporting but those that were salacious and malicious had always troubled her, and so she’d never been as successful in the world of the media as she could have been. And now she was glad because it meant that she didn’t need to feel ashamed of her behaviour. She could hold her head up and not regret her actions over the years, or not all of them, at least. Making mistakes was part of being human and she doubted anyone could ever say they’d never made a mistake.

‘Thank you,’ she said as she accepted the bag from the shop assistant and went back out into the bright morning. She slid her sunglasses on and instead of walking to the next shop, she found herself heading down to the harbour and sitting on the bench she’d sat on with Thomas. The sunlight glinted on the small peaks of the water making it look like it was filled with flakes of silver and gold and the air was rich with the scents of the sea — briny, salty and tangy. She breathed it in, savouring the refreshing breeze on her skin and the way it rippled through her hair.

Since the fair, she’d had a productive few days of writing and had just over half of her target pages done. She was enjoying the process as the story took shape and finding it cathartic. The hero had already won her heart and that was, she suspected, because he had some similarities to Thomas. Hopefully, it would mean that her readers — if the book ever got published — would love the hero too.

With that thought in mind, she jumped up and headed for home, keen to write the next chapter so she could find out what her characters would do next. It seemed that they now had minds of their own and they’d started doing things and having thoughts and feelings that surprised her too.

Writing was a magical business indeed…

15

THOMAS

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