Page 36 of Love in the Air at The Cornish Bakery

‘I hope it will be. I’ll explain later.’ Slipping her phone back into her pocket, Nina focused on the task ahead and hurried back to the bakery. If she was going to speak to Ian now, then she needed to collect something first.

Chapter Eighteen

Nina knocked on thedoor again and looked over towards the edge of the rocky outcrop the lighthouse was built on. The waves were crashing right up towards the top of the rocks, the ocean’s spray covering the surrounding rocks. She looked down at her jeans. The denim covering her ankles and lower legs had stained from the waves which had sprayed water across the causeway.

‘Nina, hello, love. What a lovely surprise.’ Ian stepped aside and ushered her through the door.

‘Hi, I was just wondering if you had a couple of minutes spare?’ Chewing her bottom lip, Nina stepped inside.

‘Of course. What can I do for you, love?’ Closing the door behind him, he indicated the sofa. ‘Please, take a seat. Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee? Water?’

‘Umm, a tea sounds nice, thank you.’ She waited until Ian had disappeared through a doorway, presumably into the kitchen, before perching on the edge of the sofa. Placing her handbag on her lap, she pulled out the letter her gran had received from Ian and the envelope her gran had asked her to give to him. If she had them to hand, she wouldn’t be able to back out of talking to him.

‘Here we go. One tea. I wasn’t sure if you took sugar or milk, so I went all posh and brought out a milk jug and a sugar pot. Help yourself.’ Lowering the tray to the coffee table, he began unloading the cups.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. I’ll just pop the milk jug and sugar pot here...’ Milk sprayed across the coffee table, dripping down to the carpet as he knocked the jug.

‘Are you okay?’ Pulling a handful of tissues from the tissue box at the end of the coffee table, Nina began mopping up the milk.

Staggering back, Ian sat down heavily on the small sofa opposite. ‘My letter...’

Nina looked down at the letter lying on her lap and back at the sodden tissue in her hand. Carefully lowering the tissue to the tray, she wiped the milk from her hands across the legs of her jeans and picked the letter up. ‘Yes.’

‘You... you...’ Slumping back against the sofa cushions, Ian rubbed his palms across his face. ‘You know her. You know Nancy?’

‘I’m...’

‘No, don’t tell me.’ He waved his hand in front of his face. ‘That’s why I thought I recognised you. You’re her granddaughter. Am I wrong?’

‘No, you’re not wrong.’ Nina looked down at her trainers. She should have offered to take them off at the door. She would have walked water and sand all through the living room now.

‘And your nan, gran, grandmother, she read my letter?’

‘Gran. She’s my gran. Yes, she read the letter.’ Picking it up, Nina held it between her fingers.

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