‘The woman who owns the flat left a key out so I let myself in. Her nosy bloody neighbour only thought I was breaking in – said she was calling the Old Bill. I can’t be dealing with them, not at the moment. So much for going incognito.’ Conor looked stressed.

  Blue lights could now be seen flashing down the hill as a police car navigated its way through the crowd down Ferry Lane and parked up alongside the cafe. Grabbing a tea towel, Big Frank precariously carried the big cauldron of unlicensed alcoholic punch from the cafe counter into the back kitchen and plonked it on the side next to an unsmiling Monique and his white-faced nephew.

  ‘Jesus, lad. What’s happened? The police are right outside.’

  ‘Fais pas d’histoires,’ Monique told her long-term lover in a brisk voice. ‘It’s just a misunderstanding. Some neighbour thought Conor was breaking into Kara’s flat. I will deal with it.’ She untied her apron to reveal a stylish all-in-one black jumpsuit. Formidable and in her late fifties, she was one of those women with such effortless style that she could have pulled off wearing a bin liner. Taking a deep red lipstick from her pocket she reapplied it expertly to her full lips without a mirror. Then, after patting the back of her platinum-blonde shoulder-length hair, she readjusted her bra to reveal a small amount of cleavage. Before she set off through to the cafe counter, in her sexy French accent she informed the nervous-looking Brady uncle and nephew: ‘Gentlemen, leave this to moi!’

  Chapter 6

  ‘Why waste your time using the aubergine emoji when we’ve got the real thing here?’ Darren (Daz) Dillon addressed the Saturday market day crowd, whilst waving the offending vegetable in the air.

  ‘Leeks as long as Usain Bolt’s … legs.’ Charlie, Daz’s father, intercepted. ‘’Ere, missus, what did you think I meant? Half a kilo for just one Cornish pound, cheaper than Harrods.’

  On seeing Conor appearing from the side alley of Kara’s shop, he called out, ‘All right, lad? You must be a Brady, by the looks of you. Same build and everything. We thought you was coming last night.’

  ‘Er yes. I didn’t quite make the fireworks. So, you know my uncle then?’

  ‘Everyone knows Big Frank,’ Charlie’s wife Pat put in before twirling closed a brown paper bag full of fragrant local tomatoes and handing it over the display to her customer. ‘Want some garlic? We’ve got bulbs in for a special price today.’ She popped one into the woman’s carrier bag. ‘Right, so that’s two pound ten, just call it two quid. Have a nice day.’

  She turned to greet the stranger and was quite taken by the handsome young man in front of her. ‘Well, just look at you – so this is Frank’s nephew. Conor, ain’t it?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Conor was amused by this family’s East End vibe.

  ‘Welcome to Happy Hartmouth,’ Pat Dillon said, pronouncing her aitches for once and for his benefit. She threw him a sly wink. ‘And please do excuse my old man, he has the manners of a barbarian.’ With a wiggle of her huge square bottom, she walked back inside to fetch another box of cauliflowers.

  ‘Are you staying long?’ Charlie asked, filling a scoop with potatoes and weighing them.

  ‘Er, the plan is for three months at the moment.’

  ‘You working with your uncle then, lad?’ Charlie tipped the spuds into his customer’s shopping bag and took the bananas she handed him to weigh. They settled up and the next person, a man who ran a local B&B, asked for some of the sprouting broccoli to use for his special soup. The work never stopped, Conor noted, and the queue here moved quickly with three people serving.

  ‘Haven’t got that far yet either,’ he answered.

  With his own shady East End upbringing, Charlie Dillon knew to pry no further. ‘Well, if you need any fresh veg, I’m your man, and me and my Pat, well we often go to the Ferryboat, the pub down the front on a Saturday night, and you’d be welcome to join us any time.’

  ‘Thanks a million. I appreciate that.’ Conor walked off, then looked up in search of the STAR Crystals & Jewellery sign. At the flower stall beside it he spotted a slight blonde girl handing bunches of carnations expertly wrapped in pretty pink tissue paper to a middle-aged man.

  ‘Three bunches of carnations for ten pounds, a fiver each. Every colour.’ Skye’s sweet Cornish voice rang out like a silver bell against the rough London accents of the Dillons.

  A shivering Star was outside concentrating on unwinding a ten-foot white extension cable. When the cable was long enough, she shut her shop door up on it and plugged in the electric fan heater at her feet.

  She was just bending down with her back to the street making sure the lead was not a trip hazard, when a voice with a deep Irish accent said, ‘You don’t shout out to the punters like the others then?’ This woman had really riled him with her nosiness last night. But if they were to be neighbours, and with Frank’s insistence that Star Bligh was not a troublemaker, Conor paced his response accordingly.

  On realising who it must be, Star froze to the spot in the hope that the man would just go away. She had finally got through to Kara in a panic last night, gibbering that she thought someone had broken into the florist’s flat and telling her friend that she had called the police, only to learn that it was Big Frank’s nephew who’d come to stay for a few weeks. Star was absolutely mortified.

  Conor cleared his throat loudly and, realising that he wasn’t going anywhere, Star reluctantly turned around and found herself looking into the soft brown eyes of someone who could win a place on any catwalk in the world.

  ‘Or maybe you just prefer to sing like a canary?’ Conor said, now faintly amused and slightly taken aback by the beauty of the nervous-looking blonde in front of him.

  Star stared back at the friendly face, took a deep breath and said, ‘Very funny.’ Attempting to regain her composure, she began tidying some earrings on a rack.

  ‘Conor Brady.’ The man held out his big hand. Star lifted a gloved one and just gave him an awkward wave from across the market stall.

  ‘Steren Bligh, but most people call me Star.’

  ‘Everyone except your mammy, you mean?’

  Star couldn’t help but smile. ‘True – and my great-auntie.’ Just the presence of this man had caused the speech she had prepared to become lost in translation. She began to gabble nervously. ‘I am so sorry about last night. It’s just Kara didn’t tell me you were coming, and no one is ever near those flat steps as it’s been empty for months and … oh God. I didn’t get you in any trouble, did I?’

  Conor looked at the young woman in front of him, so petite, so vulnerable, and suddenly felt as if his heart might actually leap out of his chest and cling to her.

  Not realising that she didn’t need to say another single word to him, Star carried on desperately. ‘I just don’t want this to be awkward between us as Kara tells me we are going to be neighbours for a while now. What can I do for you to forgive me? How about a crystal or a necklace for somebody special in your life?’ She gestured at one of her star-shaped display stands.

  Conor’s lips were full, his smile lopsided and sexy. Star noticed also that he had just one deep dimple on his right cheek. Damn those butterflies that were doing somersaults in her stomach. Tall, handsome men never usually had this effect on her; normally she was attracted to short men with less attractive but characterful looks. However, she could already feel Conor Brady’s energy, and it made him so much more than just a face full of perfectly formed features.

  ‘I know exactly what you can do,’ Conor lowered his voice and leaned into her, ‘Star Bligh.’

  ‘You do?’ Star said, entranced.

  ‘Yeah. You can take me out for a drink.’

  Star felt her pale cheeks go pink. ‘How do you know I’m single?’

  ‘And how do you know I meant that sort of drink?’ The Irishman grinned.

  Star faltered. ‘It’s …’

  ‘It’s non-negotiable, that’s what it is,’ Conor butted in. ‘Now, how about I meet you in the Ferryboat tomorrow night, shall we say seven o’clock?’

  Chapter 7

  ‘Oh my God, Kar, you didn’t warn me how handsome he was.’

  Kara was loading the dishwasher in her apartment overlooking the estuary, her mobile resting between chin and shoulder. ‘Get down, James Bond!’ she shouted. Star moved her ear away from the handset. ‘Sorry, Star. The bloody cat keeps jumping up on the worktops lately. Anyway, I thought you only fancied ugly men, but from that tone you’ve obviously changed your mind. And with all the goings-on last night, I haven’t even met this Conor myself yet.’

  ‘I don’t know what it is, there’s just something about him. An energy. And I like it.’ The animation in Star’s voice came over loud and clear.

  ‘Saying that, you’ve always had a bit of a thing for Big Frank,’ Kara pointed out, closing the dishwasher door.

  ‘I think that’s the glint of bad boy in him, not his face or physique.’

  ‘You’re funny.’ Kara giggled. ‘Hang on a sec, Star, Billy’s waving a menu at me. Yes, get a large Meat Feast and some of those warm cookies. We’ve got salad and coleslaw in the fridge,’ she called. Billy put his thumb up and went back into the lounge to order their takeaway. ‘Sorry about that. Come round for some pizza and a glass of wine if you like. I’ve persuaded him indoors to watch Strictly, so that’s our Saturday night sorted.’

  ‘It’s not even three months yet and you’re like an old married couple already.’

  ‘Good, isn’t it?’ Kara laughed. ‘Anyway, back to you and the sexy one. So, did you say sorry to him?’

  ‘Of course I bloody did,’ Star ranted. ‘I’m still cross that you didn’t tell me he was moving in and then none of this would be an issue. I wouldn’t have got spooked and called the police and I wouldn’t be going for a drink with a complete stranger tomorrow night.’

  ‘Don’t be arsy. I didn’t tell you as it all happened in such a blur. I had hardly any warning myself. You were sad at lunchtime, it was a busy market day and then you were at your auntie’s in the evening, so I didn’t get the chance. And it’s all OK now. Over and done with. Monique spoke to the policemen and explained how it had all been a terrible misunderstanding – that Big Frank had been moving stuff into my flat to help me out and it had been him that you had seen. He only started running down the hill because he had the fireworks to light. Conor just kept out of the way, then went back up to the flat at midnight when the coast was clear.’

  ‘That makes it all a bit weird though, don’t you think? Why not tell them the truth?’

  ‘Frank has assured me that everything is kosher. Just said it was best that his nephew wasn’t seen by the police down here for a while. That the reason he is down here in Cornwall is to be incognito. I do trust Frank.’

  ‘I do too. But now I’m intrigued to find out what Conor has done. He could be an axe murderer, for all we know.’

  ‘I very much doubt it. Anyway, you can ask him over that drink, can’t you? It’s exciting and I want to know every single thing about it.’

  ‘I love the way you are so blasé about it all. He basically said that me taking him out for a drink was the only way he would ever forgive me.’

  ‘You’ve got to admire his balls, I guess.’ Kara laughed rudely, adding, ‘And I’m really impressed you are going, mate.’

  ‘I’m still not sure if I should though.’

  ‘Give me one good reason why you wouldn’t meet him.’ Kara blew a kiss at Billy as he came into the kitchen, poured her a glass of red wine, then took the bottle back through to the lounge.

  ‘Well, what if he really likes me?’

  ‘I think you’re more worried about you liking him,’ Kara replied wisely.

  ‘Don’t be clever with me.’ Star hesitated. ‘Should I go, then?’

  ‘Yes! You must. Have a drink, have a chat. How lovely to be in male company. It’s been too long, and you really do deserve some fun, mate.’

  ‘What about Jack?’

  ‘What about him?’ Kara harrumphed. ‘Jack is in New York. Jack has a girlfriend! If Jack cared, he would have contacted you. Stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment.’

  Billy appeared, leaned over Kara’s shoulder, and spoke into the handset.

  ‘Just get him drunk, Star, take him home and shag him senseless. Now, are you coming down for a glass of Shiraz and a Cha-cha-cha with us, or what?’

  Chapter 8

  ‘Now I don’t want you getting me drunk and taking advantage of me, you hear?’ Conor placed the large glass of white wine down in front of a nervous-looking Star and took a seat opposite her in the little wooden nook next to the open fire.

  She shook her head in mock horror. ‘In your dreams, but thanks for the drink. I don’t usually have a large one.’

  Conor smiled. ‘And don’t be opening me up for innuendo already, little one. I’m pulling out all my gentlemanly stops here.’

  Star remained deadpan. ‘Well, as long as that’s all you pull out this evening.’

  Conor put his hand to his forehead. ‘That one just slipped out, sorry.’

  ‘Ha ha! I bet you say that to all the girls.’ Star felt instantly comfortable as they laughed in unison.

  They both took a drink. ‘You look nice,’ Conor added casually.

  ‘Thanks.’ Star blushed. It had taken her over an hour of taking clothes from the wardrobe, trying them on, throwing them off, only to end up in the outfit she had put on in the first place. She wanted to look good, but also as if she hadn’t made too much of an effort. It was, after all, just a chilly Sunday night in a quiet local pub. So skinny blue jeans, a cream cowl-neck jumper and her knee-high black suede boots had made the cut. Her steel-blue eyes were smudged with a navy eyeliner and black mascara, while her midnight-blue velvet coat always made its own entrance, and a dash of light pink lip gloss finished her look off perfectly.

  Conor caught sight of her silver drop earrings in the shape of dolphins.

  ‘Dolphins, eh? Frank was telling me you sometimes see them off the coast here.’

  ‘Yes. Penrigan Point is a good area to spot them. I saw some once. It was magical.’ Star felt sad. ‘I never seem to find the time to go up there now.’

  ‘Wow. That’s so cool. They come just in the summer when the water is warm, I guess?’

  ‘Sometimes in the winter too,’ Star replied knowledgeably. She cocked her head to the side. ‘You don’t strike me as a man who likes nature.’

  ‘That’s a very sweeping statement on a first meeting. So, what do I strike you as then?’ The handsome Irishman smiled his lopsided smile, causing his dimple to fire up, then took a drink from his pint of cloudy cider, with a grimace. ‘Jesus, this’ll put even more hairs on my chest.’

  Glad of the diversion, Star agreed. ‘Yes, the locals call it Red Apple Ruin.’

  ‘They’ve all gone home for a lie-down by the look of it,’ Conor noted, making her laugh. ‘Is it always this lively in here?’ He looked around. The pub was empty save for two men quietly chatting at the bar and another couple deep in conversation in one of the window seats.

  ‘The Ferryboat does amazing roasts on a Sunday, so it’s rammed at lunchtime, and in the summer it’s a huge tourist spot, but it’s end of season now, and it is bloody cold.’

  ‘All the seafaring memorabilia around this place reminds me of where I used to live in Ireland. I’m a country boy at heart, really.’

  ‘Yes, I love the lobster-pot lights in here. The pub is so old and it’s kept its original look.’

  ‘Unlike London where it’s now all fancy wine bars and gastro pubs.’

  There was a short silence. They then both went to speak at once. ‘You go first,’ Star said, taking a large mouthful of wine and looking right at him. There was no denying that Conor Brady was jaw-droppingly good to look at. His plain round-necked black jumper accentuated his wide muscly back and shoulders and went well with his dark blue jeans, which were snug and trendy. Star could see that his designer trainers were expensive but understated. She loved the way his hair tumbled all over the place above soulful eyes of a molten chestnut brown. Add in the accent and he would make even the most reticent of romantics swoon.

  Conor cleared his throat. ‘Did you know that dolphins are able to see beside them, in front of them and even behind them because their eyes are placed laterally, one on each side of the head?’

  Star smirked, the alcohol already loosening her tongue. ‘You’d better come back in your next life as a dolphin by the sound of it then.’

  Conor laughed loudly and lifted his glass to tap hers. ‘Very good,’ he said, ‘but you still didn’t tell me what I struck you as.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Star thought for a second. ‘OK – first impressions. A lovable rogue. The kind of guy I’d warn my daughter about. Your reputation already precedes you, I’m afraid.’

  A shot of electricity ran through her arm as Conor took her hand across the table. ‘It wasn’t a good start for us both, was it? Look, I’m so sorry if I scared you. Some random man in a black hoody appearing from nowhere must have been terrifying.’

  ‘Aw. That’s sweet of you but I’m the one who’s supposed to be apologising to you. I could have got you arrested.’

  ‘Yeah, and nobody likes a grass.’ Conor patted her hand, then noticing the look of horror on Star’s face, he reached up and put his finger gently on her button nose. ‘I’m joking, beautiful. Look, I haven’t actually done anything wrong. Kind of ironic really that I should get accused of a house break-in because that’s the very reason I’m here. A real-life break-in took place at a big house in Kilburn, that’s in north-west London where I was living, and it was pinned on me. The Bradys have a reputation of being able to look after themselves where I come from, so it was a surprise that some dodgy gang should have tried to set me up. Star, I’m no more a thief than you are.’