Page 22 of A Cornish Winter's Kiss

In around twenty minutes they’d transferred Patsy back into the car, driven down towards the market and found a parking space. Then they’d walked the short distance to the Boscawen Street market, with a plan to head on to the bigger market afterwards. It was just after five o’clock on a Wednesday evening, so although the markets were bustling, they weren’t so horribly busy that it was impossible to move. After checking out the stalls at the first market, and sampling the best clotted-cream fudge Emily had ever tasted, they moved on to Lemon Quay. Patsy was already one festive hot chocolate down, havingsampled a peppermint flavoured one, complete with candy canes, but she wasn’t done yet.

‘I want to find a gingerbread hot chocolate this time, or one of those Ferrero Rocher ones if they do them, and I haven’t forgotten about the millionaire’s shortbread either. Someone here must sell it, but if not I will settle for a brownie at a push.’

‘Last year there was a stall further up on the left that did amazing brownies. Let’s head up that way and see what we can find.’ Emily squeezed her mother’s shoulder gently and exchanged a look with her dad. Her mother was still so upbeat, but she knew Patsy sometimes wore a bright expression to mask her fear. She’d done it ever since her diagnosis, to try and stop her family worrying even more than they already were. She’d made a comment once about having put the family through enough when she had her car accident, but none of her health issues were her fault and Emily wanted her mother to be able to talk about her fears. They’d all seen the mask slip from time to time, but never for long. It meant that Patsy was carrying a heavy load she ought to be able to share with the people who loved her.

‘Did you say you’re driving home, Em?’ Her father paused, waiting for her to respond.

‘Absolutely. I thought you could have a drink. I bet they’ve got Baileys hot chocolate, and glühwein.’ Emily’s father wasn’t a big drinker, but he’d always enjoyed a couple of drinks with his friends at the end of the working week, and when he’d first retired he still went occasionally. Recently he’d stopped going altogether and these days he wouldn’t even have a drink at home at the weekend, in case anything happened and he needed to get his wife to the hospital.

‘I might go wild and have a mulled cider. I’m sure I can smell it.’ Emily’s father closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was a definite hint of apple and cinnamon in the air, as well as what smelt like hot fresh doughnuts.

‘Why don’t you guys go and grab a spot under the covered seating area and I’ll track down some gingerbread hot chocolate, the mulled cider and some amazing cakes.’

‘Okay, sweetheart.’ Richard gave her a brief hug before pushing her mother through the crowd. Emily was as good as her word, quickly finding the drinks her parents had requested. She hadn’t been able to track down any millionaire’s shortbread, so she’d settled on some very indulgent-looking brownies and a bag of hot doughnuts.

‘Have I missed anything?’ Emily asked as she took the food and drinks over, and Patsy pulled a face.

‘Your father was just telling me that it’s okay to admit that I’m worried about having to have an operation. But Dr Alexopoulos was very reassuring and she told us it was only minor, so God knows why he thinks I’m going to make a fuss about it.’

‘She’s great at making things sound straightforward.’ Emily smiled, but she couldn’t help wondering if her expression looked as false as it felt. Her mother’s consultant had been wonderful. She and Pasty had developed such a good relationship that Emily’s mother hadn’t wanted to move to another consultant, even after the opening of St Piran’s Hospital just down the road from them. It was why they still came to Truro. But despite how much they all trusted Dr Alexopoulos, the operation was a big deal. It was another step along the road of a progressive illness, and that would be scary for anyone. ‘We all know what you’re like for trying to pretend everything’s okay, Mum. Charlotte and I were only talking about that the other day. But you don’t need to cover up how you’re feeling for our benefit.’

‘That’s what all mums do, sweetheart.’ Patsy smiled. ‘I hope you discover that one day, I really do.’

‘Not all mums are as selfless as you are. I hit the jackpot.’ Emily laid her hand over her mother’s. She couldn’t helpthinking about Jude and the things he’d told her. Her heart had ached for what he’d been through, losing his mother so young and then being faced with a stepmother who seemed determined to make his life hell. She couldn’t imagine how painful that had been, and she’d wanted to do something to try and take some of that hurt away, but there was nothing she could have done or said. It had clearly affected Jude deeply; she’d been able to see it in his eyes as he recounted the story, and it had played on her mind ever since. It had been a stark reminder of just how blessed her own childhood was.

‘Hmm, I’m not sure about that.’ Her mother pulled a face. ‘I can’t help you or Charlotte out nearly as much as I’d like to.’

‘You’re always there to listen and support us, and that’s far more important than anything you might not be able to do.’ Emily hoped her mother believed her, because it was true. ‘I met someone recently who made me realise how fortunate I am to have the family I’ve got.’

‘You’ve met someone? Did you hear that, Richard? She’s met someone.’ This was typical of her mother. All she seemed to want was to see both her daughters settle down, and Emily almost didn’t want to admit that her relationship with Jude was strictly business.

‘I did hear that, Patz. And are we allowed to ask any more details about this someone, sweetheart?’ Her father reached for the mulled cider as he spoke, and Emily attempted a casual shrug.

‘His name is Jude and before you get all excited…’ She knew it was already too late for that particular caveat, but there was no point in giving them any false hope about Jude. He couldn’t have been less likely to fulfil her mother’s dream of seeing her youngest daughter settling down with someone. ‘He’s an author from the same publisher as Sophia, and I’ve been working with him on his book.’

‘Doing the audio recording?’ Her mother’s assumption was a natural one and it would have been far easier to just go along with it, but Emily knew her mum. Patsy would want to know when she’d be able to listen to the book, just as she had with all the other novels Emily had narrated. If she tried to fob her off, her mother would start digging. So she might as well be honest.

‘No, not exactly. Jude’s editor told him he needs to give the main character in his series a meaningful relationship, something that makes readers invest in staying with the series long term and root for the character. So he asked for my help.’

‘But you’re not a writer.’ Her father narrowed his eyes. ‘And I love you to bits, Em, but you could hardly put “expert in relationships” down on your CV, could you?’

‘Not unless they want a specialist in picking wrong ’uns.’ Her mother started laughing, her father quickly following suit. Emily might have been offended if it wasn’t so great to see them laughing together. In any case, it was true; she’d developed a talent for dating the wrong sort of men over the years. The trouble was a lot of them were so good at pretending to be something they weren’t at the start. At least with Jude she knew who he was from the beginning. The novels she loved might have given her high standards, but she wanted someone who believed that with the right person, love could last forever. If she couldn’t have that, she’d rather be on her own, no matter what her mother or Jasmine might think about it. Jude would have laughed at the concept of forever. So it didn’t matter how attractive he was, they couldn’t have been more wrong for each other if they’d tried.

‘If you’ve both finished laughing your heads off at my expense, I’ll explain.’ Emily couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her parents with their heads pressed together, still grinning in her direction. ‘I might not be a writer, but I doubt there are many people who’ve read as many romance novels as I have. AndJude thinks I can help him create a relationship that his readers will become invested in, but which doesn’t make him want to repeatedly slam his head in the laptop.’

Jude had said those exact words in an email when he outlined more about what he was trying to achieve after their initial meet up in Covent Garden. He didn’t want to alienate the readers who had no interest in DCI McGuigan’s relationship status, especially as he counted himself among them.

‘I’m sure you’ve given him some great pointers, and I don’t care what you say, I still think you could write a book yourself if you put your mind to it.’ Her mother had been saying the same thing Jude had for years. ‘But why can’t he draw on his own experience of relationships? Isn’t that what authors are supposed to do? And his track record can’t be any worse than yours.’

‘He doesn’t believe in love.’ Emily wasn’t surprised to see the disbelieving looks on her parents’ faces, and she was about to make it worse. ‘Not just the romantic kind either. He doesn’t really believe in any kind of love, unless there’s a transactional value to it. According to Jude, people only give what society calls love if they receive something tangible in return.’

‘That’s a pretty sad concept.’ Emily’s father shook his head. ‘He sounds a bit bitter.’

‘Jude’s a lot nicer than I’m making him out to be, and I think he’d call himself a realist. He’s been through a lot. He was adopted and?—’

‘Adopted?’ Patsy cut her off, and Emily nodded. Her mother had been a counsellor before retiring, and it was no surprise to hear she had a theory about why Jude was the way he was. ‘His adoption could be at the heart of his inability to believe in love. If he has any unresolved feelings of rejection, he might not have the kind of solid foundation people need to form successful relationships. Depending on how well he got on withhis adoptive parents, it’s possible he might even have a form of attachment disorder.’

Emily had got used to her mother psychoanalysing every friend she brought home over the years, so she should have guessed her mother would do the same thing to Jude. That didn’t stop Emily feeling strangely disloyal for even mentioning his adoption to her mum. She had a feeling he didn’t talk about it a lot and it felt like she’d betrayed a confidence, even though he hadn’t asked her to keep it to herself.

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