Page 37 of Love in the Air at The Cornish Bakery

‘I wondered if she may have moved. I only had the address she gave me all those years ago. And that was a struggle to find.’

‘She’s moved, but I’m living in her old house now. She lives in Australia now or she would have made the trip down here herself.’ Nina ran the pad of her index finger around the edge of the letter.

Ian nodded. ‘Australia, you say. She got there then?’

Nina frowned.

‘She’d told me her dream was to live in Australia.’

‘Oh.’ Nina hadn’t realised moving to Australia had been a dream of her gran’s. From what she’d told her soon after her aunt was born, her gran met her grandad and got married. She must have put her dreams on hold whilst raising her mum and then later Nina and her brother. She frowned. Why had her gran never mentioned it? Shaking her head, Nina placed Ian’s letter on the coffee table and picked up the envelope. ‘She asked me to give you something.’

‘She didn’t want to send it to me? Or speak to me over the phone?’

‘She...my gran...these were at the house. She didn’t want them to be sent in the post. She didn’t want to risk losing them.’ Nodding, she lifted the flap of the envelope and carefully passed the black and white photographs across the coffee table.

Leaning forward, Ian wiped his hands down his shirt before taking the photographs. ‘My Heather? My little girl?’

‘Yes.’ Nina swallowed as Ian looked through the small stack of photographs. She knew what he would be seeing; a photograph of her gran holding Heather, a photograph of Heather in the hospital crib, a photograph of Heather with her new parents. ‘That last photo, the photo with the couple who adopted Heather. My gran said that’s her favourite one. She says she used to look at it for hours and be comforted knowing Heather would grow up happy.’

Ian nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks as he studied the picture.

‘Here.’ Holding out the box of tissues, Nina batted away her own tears.

‘Thank you.’ Taking a wedge of tissues, Ian wiped his face.

Clearing her throat, Nina took a deep breath in. ‘She asked me to tell you that she’s sorry. She never meant to keep Heather’s birth a secret from you but when her parents, my great grandparents, found out she was expecting, they sent her away and then after the birth, when she went back home, her parents wouldn’t let her out of their sight.’ Nina took another tissue and wiped up a splash of milk she’d missed. ‘She married shortly after that and as time went by, she began to believe her parents that it was best Heather’s birth was left in the past.’

‘She’d wanted to tell me?’ Ian glanced up at her before looking back at the photographs.

‘Yes. She wanted to tell you. She asked me to let you know that she’d got as far as Trestow on the bus once before being pulled aside by a police officer and taken home. Her dad had reported her missing.’ Nina shrugged.

‘That means a lot. It means a lot to know that she wanted to tell me. When Brooke turned up in the bay...’ Ian paused and frowned. ‘Do you know Brooke is Heather’s daughter? Your cousin?’

Nina nodded. ‘I worked it out.’

‘Does she know?’

‘I thought it best to leave it to you to tell her.’

‘Right. Of course.’ Lying the photographs carefully on the sofa next to him, he wiped his palms down his trousers. ‘When Brooke turned up in the bay, when she told me about Heather, I worried that you gran hadn’t told me because she didn’t want me to know.’

‘She did. She always wanted you to know, she just never found the right time to.’ Nina shifted position on the sofa. ‘She wanted me to ask you if she’d be able to speak with you, to explain everything. And Brooke too.’

Looking down, Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Sorry, this is... It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.’

Nodding, Nina bit down on her bottom lip. ‘I understand.’ She pointed to the front door. ‘I’ll get going now. Give you some time.’ Standing up, she picked up her coat and opened the front door.

‘Thank you, love. This must have all been very difficult for you, too. I appreciate you coming here today.’

Nina nodded before stepping out into the cold. Letting the door swing shut behind her, she stood and stared across the causeway towards the beach, the restaurant, the shops. She let the chill from the wind creep in through the woollen fibres of her jumper, felt the wind whip her hair against her cheeks, listened as the waves crashed against the rocks. She’d done it. She’d told him. Now only time would tell what would happen next.

Shivering against the cold, she shrugged into her coat and began walking back across the causeway, trying her best to keep to the centre of the narrow pathway, as far away from the water as she could.

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