‘Why, thank you.’ He tosses his tawny curls and wiggles his brows. ‘How about in the bedroom?’

  ‘Even better,’ I say with a slow smile. Then I remember the big idea I was supposed to mention and decide this is a good a time as any. ‘You know you said you hated your job, and that you have been talking about maybe trying something else?’

  He pours us both more wine and relaxes back in his chair. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’ve had an idea about that. After I saw how talented an artist you are, I thought maybe you could paint some of my ceramics, but also create some artwork of your own, and I could sell it in the shop? I know it won’t bring in anywhere near the kind of money you’re used to, but it would be something you love to do. Something you always wanted to do before you were prevented from following your dream.’

  He leans forward, rests his arms on the table and looks deep into my eyes. ‘Now that, Sennen, is one of the best ideas I’ve heard for some time. I don’t need a huge income anymore, as I have more than enough in the bank after working ten years or so in the corporate world. There’s the pot of gold that dearest Daddy put in my trust fund too when I toed his very demanding line. I’ve not really done much with it, apart from buy and refurbish this place, so it’s just sitting there. Don’t need it really.’

  I laugh. ‘Except when you draw out a few hundred thousand to pay for a Christmas present for your girlfriend.’

  ‘Best money I ever spent.’ Tremaine reaches across the table and takes my hand. ‘Do you really think I’m talented enough to paint your stuff, and make a real go of creating my own work?’

  The self-assured city lawyer before me morphs into the vulnerable teenager he used to be, seeking praise and validation, and the hope in his eyes twists my gut. ‘You are, my love. One hundred per cent.’

  He squeezes my hand and sighs. ‘You don’t know how happy that makes me feel. I’ve been thinking along similar lines, but there’s always been the self-doubt put there by you know who. The sneering, the pointing of derisory fingers reaching from the past to trip me up in the future.’ Tremaine takes a big gulp of wine and sets the glass down with a thump. His eyes are full of candlelight but there’s a deeper fire of passion burning within them. ‘I’m going to tell that old goat a few home truths. I’d like to build a few bridges like Ruan and your dad have begun to, but if not, I’ll burn them.’

  Knowing a reconciliation would be the best for his mental health in the long run, I say, ‘Hopefully that won’t be necessary. As you said, you don’t need his money now, so if he doesn’t approve of you leaving the law, so what? He has no power over you anymore, Tremaine.’

  I get a slow contemplative nod. ‘Yes. And a man without power is open to reason, with any luck. I also want to ask him what he knows about Victoria and Edward, her son – my granddad. I was going to ask them when I dropped off the Christmas presents but turns out they’d popped over to visit friends in France.’ A wry smile finds his lips and I know he’s hiding the hurt. Yet again. ‘Anyway, I’ll take the notebook and let him read it.’

  ‘A good idea. I’d love to know more,’ The last bit of my plan, and one I’ve always wanted to put into action, is next. ‘And talking of money, I’ve been thinking I might set up a little art school, part time? Using some of the money I had from the sale of the shop I could buy materials and maybe rent a workshop? It would be for local children, in the school hols, free tuition of course. Kids here need encouragement and opportunity, not fewer facilities. Cornwall is one of the poorest counties in England, and I’d love to feel I was making a difference to children’s futures in a small way.’

  Tremaine’s broad smile could light up Blackpool Tower. ‘That’s a wonderful idea, Sennen! Perhaps I could help too once I’ve had a bit more practice?’

  ‘Yeah, that would be brilliant!’ I go round and sit on his lap. ‘What an exciting year we have ahead. There’s been so much change in my life lately, but good change.’ I dip my head and kiss him.

  ‘Oh, Sennen. At last, my dreams are about to come true. At last, my life is going to have some meaning, and it’s all because of you.’

  I trace the contour of his jawline and look into those beautiful eyes. My heart is too full to reply, so I let my lips do the talking.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My birthday and Valentine’s Day dawn bright, cold and full of excitement. Tremaine has been very mysterious about what he’s got planned for me and told me not to organise anything for the day. When I said I usually pop over to see my parents on my birthday, he’d said not to go, but not to worry, it was all in hand. Last week, he worked his final day as a lawyer, and he got back from seeing his father very late last night, so I’m keen to hear what his father made of it all. I only saw him briefly when he came to bed, as he was exhausted, but said the meeting had been good and he was glad it had happened.

  As I’m opening a card from Jasmine, a raunchy one with a near naked man on the front, a near naked Tremaine comes into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning, his hair resembling a birds’ nest. He stretches languidly and I run my gaze over his well-defined abs, and the contours of his bare chest. I’m about to follow my gaze with my fingers, but he ties the belt of his robe so I just say, ‘Morning, sleepy head, fancy a full English?’

  ‘I do. But I’ll be the one making it because it’s your birthday and Valentine’s Day!’ Tremaine takes me in his arms. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.’

  ‘Thank you, and I love you too.’

  We kiss, and through the thin cloth of his pyjama bottoms, I can feel how happy he is to see me this morning. ‘Fancy a birthday roll in the hay before breakfast?’ he murmurs into my hair.

  ‘Yes, please,’ I whisper, and lead him upstairs.

  Back downstairs we eat a leisurely breakfast at the kitchen table, and then Tremaine says with a wicked glint in his eye, ‘I bet you’re wondering what’s going to happen today and what your present might be?’

  He’s right. I’m dying to know, but I reply, ‘Maybe. But you’re present enough.’

  ‘Liar.’ He laughs and pulls a card from underneath the fruit bowl and pushes it across the table towards me.

  On the front is a lovely seascape and inside he’s written:

  To the one I love, today, tomorrow and always. Happy birthday, Sennen xxx

  My heart swells with joy. ‘That’s beautiful, thank you.’

  ‘Do you like the picture on the front?’

  ‘It’s stunning. Where did you get it?’

  ‘I painted it and had it made into a card.’

  ‘That’s brilliant! You could maybe sell those too?’

  ‘Yep. That’s what I was thinking.’ Tremaine stands up and moves to the doorway. ‘I was also thinking we need to take a walk around the garden this fine, bright morning, and also to the forgotten beach for a paddle.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ I say, convinced by his mischievous grin that he has more than that up his sleeve.

  ‘And I’ll tell you all about what happened between me and Father too.’

  Dressed warmly in jumpers, jeans and padded jackets, we walk around the garden in the pale winter sunshine. Despite the offshore breeze, in sheltered spots the sun tells us it’s not far off spring, and she strokes our faces with a little warmth, encouraging our hearts to believe her. Some green shoots by the copse back her up too, and near the cliff edge in the longer grass, a carpet of snowdrops allow a few yellow daffodils to join their party.

  ‘Won’t be long until it’s spring,’ I say to Tremaine, crouching to stroke the delicate petals of the daffodils.

  ‘I was thinking the same. I love this time of year. Everything is fresh and new, full of hope.’

  I stand up and slip my arm through his. ‘Like us.’

  ‘Exactly like us,’ he replies, and then points to the markings out of the swimming pool, now overgrown and abandoned. ‘Shall we bother with a pool? I keep putting off making a decision.’

  My mind’s eye presents an image of children splashing around with inflatables in a sun-drenched pool, and Tremaine and me laughing as we watch. Judging it might be a bit soon to share it, I say, ‘No need to decide now. Though it might be nice in the future.’

  ‘When we’ve got a couple of ankle biters, you mean?’

  My jaw drops. Is he a mind reader? ‘I…’

  He stops me with a kiss. ‘You look a bit shocked.’ He laughs. ‘Don’t let me railroad you. Let’s go down to the beach, eh?’

  His words have placed a bubble of contentment in my chest, because now I know that one day, with any luck, we will be parents. We make our way down the steps, firmly gripping the handrail as they are wet from the rain the night before. I always think of Victoria when I use them, how could I not? Would her life have been saved, if there had been a sturdy handrail there in the past? How different things would have been then.

  Once on the beach, Tremaine taps me on the shoulder and says, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ and sets off at a run along the beach.

  I pull off my trainers and socks and set off in pursuit. I know he’s hiding behind some boulders near the little cave, because I can see his hair waving above them in the breeze. It’s hardly a beach for hide-and seek, being relatively small, with few places to hide. Nevertheless, memories of this childhood game put a tickle of excitement in my belly and trying not to let my laughter free and give the game away, I run lightly up to the boulders and climb over the back. From my vantage point I can see him crouched into a tight ball and he keeps peeping round the boulder down the beach towards the steps, then pulling his head back in again, like some crazed turtle. Splaying my toes wide on the wet, barnacle-encrusted boulders, I edge forward, tap him on the back and yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’

  Tremaine gives a start and turns round, his face a mixture of surprise and mirth. ‘How the hell did you get up there?’

  ‘I’m magic!’

  ‘You are. But I’m gonna get you!’ He gives a roar and launches himself at me, but I’m too quick and head for the sparkling azure slash of the ocean. Today the waves are topped with meringue peaks and cold as ice as they wash over my feet. I look behind me and laugh as Tremaine kicks off his shoes as he runs, and because I have my jeans rolled to the knee and he hasn’t – he’s wearing straight legs with no give in them – I imagine he’ll stop as soon as the waves get to his toes, but I’m mistaken as he charges straight in and tags me, wet jeans and all.

  ‘Stop!’ I yell, as he picks me up and does a few tight turns in the water. He stumbles a bit because of the buffeting waves, and I think he’ll end up dunking us both.

  ‘Only if you promise to let me win. If you won’t, you’re going in the Atlantic!’

  Tremaine’s laughter is verging on the maniacal and he’s wearing an expression stolen from a child hyper on sugar. Right now, I think he’s capable of anything. ‘Okay, okay!’ I giggle. ‘You win!’

  He puts me down and we run out of the water hand in hand. On a boulder by the steps, we sit to get our breath back and watch the scene. Because the shape of the beach is a horseshoe, it’s framed on two sides by the cliffs and we’re sheltered for the most part against the wind. In the last few minutes, it’s changed direction and is now coming off the land, so in the intermittent sunshine, it’s quite pleasant. We watch a line of seven seagulls coast in from the right, calling to each other in raucous voices. From the left, two jackdaws swoop into the picture fast and low, landing on the boulders near the cave, and peck at something in a rockpool. Maybe an unsuspecting shrimp or two have appeared, just in time for brunch.

  For a while, we sit in companionable silence, watching the clouds roll in and out of view, playing their own game of tag with the sun and shadows. A stillness envelops me as I acknowledge the peace without, and within. Time becomes static as I inhale deep breaths of the fresh salt air and exhale with it any remainder of worry or stress. And as I do, my soul rejoices in being alive. Being here. Tremaine’s fingers snake through mine, warm, strong, dependable, and I rest my head on his shoulder.

  ‘Ready to hear about my meeting with Father?’

  ‘If you’re ready to tell me, sweetheart.’

  ‘Okay. I met him at one of his London houses. Mother was in Paris at some fashion show or other, so we could talk uninterrupted. However, he did let me know that he’d had to move some very important appointments to make time for me. Father knows exactly how to make a person feel welcome.’ Tremaine rolls his eyes and sighs. ‘Anyway, I jumped straight in and told him I’d left practising law, and all about my regrets of not following my dream because of his threat to cut me off from my inheritance. I said I aimed to put that right as soon as possible, and he could stick his bloody inheritance as far as I was concerned. I also told him about you, including that you’re the granddaughter of the woman whom Great Uncle Jory fell for, and that we are living together.’

  ‘Wow. Bet that shocked him!’

  ‘Yeah, you could say that.’ He’s quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought as he watches a group of seagulls chase off the jackdaws. I don’t interrupt, even though I’m so proud of him for standing up to his father like that and I’m bursting with questions. Tremaine needs to tell me in his own words and his own time. Then he says to the horizon, ‘Predictably at first, he started gesticulating, pontificating, pacing the room, banging on about me throwing away a perfectly good career for an uncertain future, and had the audacity to ask if you were behind the changes. I said that yes, you were in a way, and I thanked God I’d found you, because you were the only person who’d shown me real love in a very long time. If ever.’ Tremaine squeezes my hand and takes a moment.

  My heart is with him and I want to take him in my arms and kiss away his pain, but I don’t want to halt his train of thought. I kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand instead.

  ‘He asked what I meant by that, so I told him in no uncertain terms how he made me feel over the years. The threatening to cut me off without a penny thing again, how they both made me feel, packing me off to boarding school, never wanting to spend time with me, the fact that my aunt, uncle and cousins showed me more love, affection and encouragement than my own parents ever did. That I never felt worthy of them. Never felt good enough. Always a failure. I also said that just recently, with your help, I realised that none of it was my fault. Instead, it was theirs alone. They had caused so much damage, and they should be ashamed.’ Tremaine looks at me and his eyes fill with tears.

  I find mine have followed suit, and I throw my arms around him and hold him as if I never want to let him go, and I don’t. I won’t. ‘Oh, my poor baby. I’m so proud of you getting all that off your chest. It must have been incredibly hard to say it, but I’m glad you did. How did he take it?’

  Tremaine wipes away his tears with the back of his hand and sighs. ‘Surprisingly well. I expected more shouting and remonstration, but no. Father sat in his chair by the fire and stared into space, expressionless, as if someone had removed his senses. Then his gaze slowly came back into focus and he looked at me and shook his head. Father told me he had worried for some time that he’d been too harsh on me in the past, especially over the inheritance thing, but he did it only because he wanted to do the best for me. He said he was raised exactly the same way by his parents. At a distance. Boarding school fostered a strong sense of independence and strength of character. His father taught him to never settle for second best – failure wasn’t an option. It might have been for some lesser men, but not for a Nancarrow.’

  I know I’m trying to keep quiet, but this is too much. ‘Hell, he sounds like he belongs in the nineteenth century!’

  Tremaine chuckles. ‘That’s exactly what I said to him! I also said that I knew he’d been to boarding school and that he was following in Grandad Edward’s footsteps, he’d told me enough times over the years. Then I asked him if he’d actually been a happy child. Father answered “not particularly”, but he’d understood that it would be all worth it in the end when he was as successful as Granddad Edward. I told him that wasn’t good enough, because how could he raise me the same, knowing what an unhappy child he’d been himself? Aren’t we supposed to learn from the past so that we don’t repeat the same mistakes in the future?’

  ‘Wow! What did he say to that?’

  ‘Nothing. Said he’d not had much idea of how to be a parent. He just did what he thought was right. He admitted that Mother wasn’t maternal. She was very fond of me, but Mother had always done her own thing. Parties, fashion shows, cocktails with friends, travelling. Things she enjoyed.’ Tremaine shook his head, incredulous. ‘I said to him that my mother also did exactly as Father told her to, so really boarding school and the raising at a distance was his idea, not hers.’

  He looks over the ocean again and I can see him struggling for composure. I say, ‘Let’s stop now, if you like. Tell me another time.’

  ‘No, there’s not much more to say and I’d rather get it all out in one go if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. I just can’t bear you hurting so much.’

  ‘It gets better, don’t worry.’ Tremaine gives me a gentle smile. ‘In the end he threw his hands in the air in defeat and said that he had no idea I’d felt so wretched, and that he would try to heal the rift between us. He admitted he had made mistakes, but maybe we could repair them together. I’d have to help point him in the right direction, as he wasn’t very good at relationships. Then I got a warm hand-clasp and a back slap. No hug of course. That would be far too intimate.’

  ‘Well, it’s a good start and you’re in a much better place than you were before you went.’ I give him a hug. ‘I’m so proud of you, Tremaine.’

  Tremaine gives me a broad smile and his cheeks pinken. ‘Do you know what? I’m proud of me too.’ He puts his arm around me and gives me a squeeze.

  ‘Good!’ I chuckle and lean into him. Then I remember something. ‘Oh, did you give him Victoria’s notebook?’