LITMIR.BIZ

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response is to ask all my market people to get there early, so Belle and her yoga class can’t stop it happening. I can’t believe he’s doing this.’

      ‘Can’t you?’ Oliver rolled onto his stomach, and Charlie did the same. Marmite, who had been snoozing between them, raced forward so he could stand in front of them and be unavoidable. Oliver ruffled his fur and Marmite lay down in front of him.

      Charlie thought back to the night of the hot tub and the way Daniel had effortlessly parried all her accusations. How, on the day of her first event, he had placated Myrtle not with words, but with a bonfire and fireworks. He did whatever he wanted. ‘I suppose I can,’ she admitted.

      ‘So why is he doing it?’ A robin dropped onto the grass and began investigating the undergrowth, sounding its sharp little call as it went.

      ‘That is the million-dollar question.’ She wondered if it was a way of getting back at her for abandoning him after their kiss. But that seemed petty, and unlike him, and certainly not something she could discuss with Oliver. ‘Perhaps, even though he claimed to be supportive at the beginning, he doesn’t like the food market.’

      ‘Why doesn’t he like it?’

      ‘Because his hotel is all about calm and serenity, and the market gets quite noisy. But the cliff’s a long way up, and I know sound drifts, but it’s not like the hotel walls are made out of paper.’

      ‘But the outdoor swimming pool and gardens will be used a lot now it’s summer.’

      ‘It’s only one day a week.’ Charlie drew herself up to sitting. ‘I wonder if he’s had complaints from some of the guests? But then he should just come and talk to me about it, or turn it around – advertise it as a feature of Porthgolow and encourage them to take advantage of it. Surely they can’t all be so refined that they faint at the sight of a hotdog stand?’

      Oliver laughed, stood up and held out his hand. ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think you should let him rile you.’

      Charlie let him pull her to her feet. They stood facing each other, Oliver’s warm, open expression drawing her closer. She realized she wasn’t being fair to him, coming on a date and spending the whole time talking about Daniel. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I won’t. Not any more. I’ll do my thing, and work around him.’

      ‘Exactly.’ Oliver’s grin flashed, and when they started walking, his hand remained firmly around hers.

      They strolled through the gardens, the sun beating down, and Charlie could almost feel her freckles popping to the surface. Oliver told her about his life childhood growing up near the Welsh border – not that far from where Charlie had been born – and how he’d loved going to the funfair and country shows as he grew up.

      ‘I loved them all,’ he said. ‘The atmosphere, that sense of everyone having a good time, finding something interesting or new, or indulging in their passion. I thought about getting involved in the gun dogs for a time. I always watched the trials but, as I grew older, I instinctively moved towards catering. It suited me, and so when Nat – my sister – suggested the cocktail stand, it felt right. I mean,’ he added, stopping on a wooden boardwalk that protruded into the middle of a pond, ‘who wouldn’t want to spend their days around people who are taking time to do something for themselves? Enjoyment, education, whatever it is. It wouldn’t be bad working here, would it?’

      Charlie looked around, at the families and couples strolling, a woman sitting on a bench pushing a buggy back and forth, licking a green ice cream. ‘No,’ she agreed, ‘it wouldn’t. But we have more flexibility with our businesses. We’re our own bosses.’

      ‘How are you finding that?’

      ‘Good. Busy, though. I can only call on Juliette so often – she has her own work to do. But I don’t know if I’m ready to employ someone else. Everything’s a bit fluid – the markets, where I might end up.’ She watched as Marmite dangled a tentative paw in the water, got scared when a leaf drifted towards him and hid behind her legs.

      ‘You’re not staying in Cornwall?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Charlie admitted. ‘I can’t live with Jules and Lawrence for ever. They need their own space. What about you, anyway? You don’t live down here.’

      ‘I’ve got a few mates,’ he said, his eyes sliding away from her. ‘As long as I don’t outstay my welcome on any one sofa then it’s not a problem.’

      Charlie laughed. ‘You’re a proper wanderer.’

      ‘Does that bother you?’ His grip on her hand had tightened, his gaze returning to her face.

      ‘No, of course not, but—’

      ‘Charlie?’

      ‘Yes?’ She waited, the ice cream suddenly heavy in her stomach. Oliver seemed to be searching for the right words, but then he leaned towards her. His kiss was gentle and Charlie found that, after a beat, she was kissing him back. It felt good, comforting, but nothing like the sensation of Daniel’s lips on hers. That rush of adrenalin and desire. She shouldn’t be doing this. She stepped back.

      Oliver’s smile downgraded from self-assured to tentative. ‘Was that OK?’

      ‘It was lovely.’ It wasn’t a lie.

      His smile widened and he took her hand again. They walked off the boardwalk, back onto the path, only to find a small boy giggling up at them. ‘You made smoochies,’ he said, pointing an unapologetic finger. ‘Eww!’

      ‘You won’t feel like that when you’re older,’ Oliver said calmly, and pulled Charlie away.

      After Oliver had failed to persuade Charlie to go on the zip wire that hovered terrifyingly over the Eden Project, Charlie drove them back to Newquay, the windows of Juliette’s car wound down to let in as much air as possible. When she pulled up outside his temporary digs, he turned to face her.

      ‘Come to the beach with me? There’s an area where dogs are allowed.’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ Charlie said. ‘I left Juliette on the bus, so I should just check …’ she pulled her phone out of her bag and saw that there was a message from her friend.

       Doing an evening session with Belle on the beach. Hope Ollie was fun! Xx

      Charlie bristled. ‘Beach sounds great,’ she said, forcing a smile.

      Ten minutes later, she was showing Oliver how to skim stones across the breakers while Marmite bounded in the shallows, treating each new wave as if it was a tiny, Yorkipoo-eating monster.

      ‘You’re not holding your hand right. It needs to be more like this.’ Charlie stood behind him and twisted his hand. ‘And then, in one, fluid motion you need to go like this.’ She demonstrated with her own stone, which skipped across the water three times before it disappeared.

      ‘Right.’ Oliver narrowed his eyes. ‘So I go like this, then like this. And then …’ He threw his stone, and it skimmed once before disappearing.

      ‘Yes!’ Charlie gave him a high-five. ‘It can only get better from there.’

      ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve never been that great at sports.’

      ‘Skimming stones is hardly a sport, though I can get competitive about it. I won’t today, obviously, as it’s your first time. But next time, Oliver, you’d better watch out.’

      ‘Next time?’ He took her hand. ‘You think there might be a next time?’

      Charlie swallowed. ‘There could be. If you show enough promise.’

      ‘Then I will try very, very hard.’

      They walked at the edge of the sea, their shoes in their hands, while the summer evening played out beautifully around them. Charlie liked Newquay. It was always full of people laughing, surfing, jogging

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