A Perfect Cornish Christmas

Discover your roots with TreeFynder!

She cringed at the cheesy copy on the ancestry website. Privately, she’d have loved to rewrite it all and get a new design done – as with most websites – but that was for another day.

Marcus and her parents sat back, intent on the TV screen. Heidi crossed her legs and smiled. ‘Gosh, the suspense is killing me.’

‘All will become clear,’ Scarlett said dramatically, ignoring Heidi’s sarcasm but slightly disappointed by the baffled expressions of the rest of the family.

She logged on and the screen flashed up a message:

Congrats! Here is your Latham family tree!

‘A couple of months ago, Ellie and I decided to have our DNA tested, so we could find out our genetic roots, and we really will know if Dad’s a Viking.’

Marcus let out a whistle. ‘Now this is interesting. I’ve always wanted to do this.’

Re-sult, thought Scarlett in triumph. ‘Right. Deep breath, because neither Ellie nor I have looked at the results. We thought it would be more of a surprise for everyone that way.’

‘It’s been so hard not to check out the site,’ Ellie said.

‘Without further ado, now we find out who our ancestors were. Ta da!’ Scarlett declared and tapped her mouse pad. At the same time, Ellie clicked on her own results on her phone.

The silence could only have lasted a second or two, but it seemed far longer to Scarlett, already wound up to fever pitch after keeping the secret for so long.

Her mother spoke first. ‘Um. This is very exciting, I’m sure, but what does it all mean?’

Scarlett had spent so long on the TreeFynder site, learning how to interpret the potential results of the ancestry test, that she’d forgotten the figures and tables on the screen would mean nothing to anyone but her and Ellie. The actual findings were a complete surprise to her too, but she knew what they might mean in principle.

‘Well, both Ellie and I have had our DNA tested, which of course tells us about the rest of our relations and ancestors – and yours.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Marcus leaned forward.

‘How fascinating,’ Heidi muttered, picking up a magazine.

‘Obviously it doesn’t cover Heidi, but it will show the boys’ heritage too,’ Scarlett said, hoping to win Heidi over.

Heidi let the magazine rest in her lap, her attention caught at last.

‘Yes, can you please explain this to those of us still stuck in the Stone Age,’ her father said.

‘OK. Well, Ellie and I sent off a sample of our DNA to this ancestry site and these are the results of their analysis. This chart shows the areas of the world and types of people who are our ancestors. It says that I’m 60 per cent Iberian, 20 per cent Irish and 20 per cent other ethnicity. So – no Viking …’

Ellie held up her phone. ‘I am! Mine says I’m 70 per cent Scandinavian, 15 per cent Irish and 15 per cent other ethnicity.’

‘They’re very different. Is that normal?’ Marcus asked.

‘According to the guidelines, siblings can have very different genetic make-ups. Dad’s the Viking and Mum’s obviously the Mediterranean one. I have a different mix of Mum and Dad’s DNA to Ellie.’

‘That’s no surprise. You’ve always looked like Mum,’ said Marcus.

‘She certainly loves her Spanish holidays,’ her father said drily. ‘Now we know why.’

Their mother flashed a smile. ‘Which reminds me, I must go and check on the potatoes.’

Marcus, Ellie and Scarlett exchanged wide-eyed looks, wondering how potatoes could have anything to do with Spanish holidays.

Anna got up, holding the tea towel she’d carried in from the kitchen.

Ellie groaned. ‘Oh, don’t miss the best bit. The potatoes can wait, Mum.’

‘You won’t say that when you get a plate full of blackened lumps for lunch.’

‘I’ll check them,’ Heidi said, clearly looking for an excuse to get away from the family love-in. Actually, Scarlett didn’t blame her on this occasion and it might be less awkward if she wasn’t there.

‘Are you sure you can manage?’ Anna looked worried at the prospect of Heidi handling a tray of potatoes. ‘They are roasted in goose fat, you know …’

‘I’ll cope somehow.’ Heidi got up and patted her shoulder. ‘You enjoy your special present, Anna.’

Scarlett wasn’t sure if her sister-in-law was being sarcastic or not, but she let it drop. Their mum sat back down on the sofa, still clutching the tea towel.

‘Now, here’s the really exciting part …’ She hovered the cursor over the Find Relatives menu. ‘Who knows. We might find some long-lost second cousins on here. Maybe we’re related to royalty, like Danny Dyer is.’

Marcus groaned. ‘God, I hope not!’

Their father laughed.

‘I don’t think we’re in line for the throne, Dad, but – oh look, we have a first degree relative on the site,’ said Scarlett. ‘What a surprise. Not.’

‘That’ll be me, of course,’ said Ellie, clicking her phone. ‘Because we’re both registered on their database … Let’s take a look. Oh, yes … oh …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Oh.’

‘What?’ Scarlett asked.

‘I think I’ll go and help Heidi with the roasters.’ Their mother was halfway out of the door.

‘Mum, wait! Stay and see some more.’ Scarlett couldn’t conceal her disappointment. Then again, it was her father who loved history.

‘Sprouts need putting on!’ she shouted.

‘This early?’ Marcus laughed. ‘Come on, Ellie, show us this relative-finder thing.’

‘It, um … seems to have disappeared.’ Ellie held up a black phone screen and aimed a look at Scarlett. There was desperation in her eyes.

‘Don’t worry, I can get it up on the telly,’ said Scarlett, cheerfully.

‘Wait!’

Ellie’s cry was too late. The 72-inch screen flashed up a notification.

You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.

Marcus dived on it like a hawk. ‘Half-sibling? What’s that supposed to mean?’

Ellie couldn’t suppress her gasp and exchanged a panicky glance with Scarlett. ‘That’s wrong. It’s not possible. We don’t have any half-siblings.’

‘It must mean sister or brother, of course,’ said their dad. ‘It can only refer to you and Ellie.’

It must refer to her and Ellie. Half-siblings. Scarlett went cold all over as the implications sank in like wet slush soaking through the bunny slippers. Ellie stared at her; lips pressed together. When Ellie had seen the results on her phone, she’d tried to stop Scarlett from sharing them with the rest of the family.

‘It must be a mistake. Let’s try again.’ Faking a sigh of exasperation, Scarlett refreshed the page, hoping against hope it would miraculously show a different answer. But a second later, it flashed up the same horrible phrase.

You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.

The words leapt out at Scarlett and seared themselves on her brain. She felt sick.

Half-sibling.

Their father frowned at the screen. ‘I don’t understand—’

‘Scarlett’s right. There must have been a cock-up.’ Ellie got up and turned off the TV. ‘I think they’ve mixed up our DNA with someone else’s. It must happen a lot.’

‘I doubt it,’ Marcus said, ‘I’ve heard these labs are very accurate.’

‘Actually, I saw a programme that said there can be a big margin of error,’ Ellie declared. ‘Huge.’

‘Then why did you bother getting tested?’ Marcus said sharply, treating both of them to a glare.

‘Because we thought it would be fun …’ Scarlett said. ‘Didn’t we, Ellie? Dad’s always wanted to know if he has any Viking in him, and we thought it would be the perfect family present.’

‘Obviously, it isn’t,’ Marcus said, narrowing his eyes at Scarlett again.

‘Let’s not worry about it now. We’ll contact the site after Christmas and get our money back,’ Ellie said, then sniffed the air. ‘Hmm, what’s that amazing smell? I think dinner must be nearly ready.’

‘Mum’s only just put the sprouts on,’ Marcus muttered, his eyes straying to the laptop.

‘Shall I get us all another glass of Prosecco?’ Scarlett piped up, feeling as if she might throw up. She didn’t want Prosecco and had no idea how she was going to eat Christmas dinner.

‘But I don’t understand,’ their father insisted as Scarlett snatched up her laptop, intent on hiding it under her bed, as if that would make any difference at all to the results. The genie was out of the bottle now. Her hands were shaking.

‘If your DNA test says you and Ellie are half-siblings, what does it mean …’ Their father looked at them both. Scarlett hugged the laptop. Oh God, everything was becoming horrifyingly clear. Their mother’s lack of enthusiasm for the DNA test, slinking out of the room when they tried to find their relatives. Oh, Christ on a bike, what the hell had she unleashed on her family?

‘Nothing, because it’s a computer error or a mix-up in the lab. Don’t worry about it, Dad,’ said Ellie. ‘Blooming rip-off! For all we know, TreeFynder doesn’t even have a real lab and it’s a couple of kids with a chemistry set in their bedroom. Let’s forget it for now and have another drink. What do you all want?’

Their father nodded but seemed confused and quiet. Marcus, however, would not be silenced. ‘But I’m still confused about exactly what the results mean,’ he said insistently. Scarlett loved her brother, for all his faults, but at this moment would have happily wished him to evaporate.

‘Marcus. There’s no point having the conversation. Now, come on, let me get you a drink.’

As she looked at him, it hit her. Marcus and Ellie both had their father’s thick dark curly hair. Scarlett was fair. Her mum had light brown hair that the sun bleached in summer, but Scarlett was blonde all year round, and almost wheaten in the sunny months. Her hair was straight and easily tamed, which Ellie had always envied but Scarlett thought was a bit boring compared to Ellie’s bouncy curls. Her siblings had strong noses, ever so slightly ‘Roman’, according to Auntie Joan – which hadn’t amused Marcus, but had made Ellie burst out laughing and start muttering, ‘Hail, Great Caesar,’ to him.

As they’d grown older, Ellie and Marcus had changed but had always at some point resembled their dad. Scarlett never had.

If that test was accurate … Scarlett felt as if she was about to suffocate and her stomach clenched. She had to get out, or she might be sick, but Heidi blocked the doorway, her hands still in oven gauntlets. She’d obviously been there much longer than they’d realised.

‘I’m sure this is all a mistake, Roger,’ she said, looking at their father with pity. ‘Because if that test is accurate, it means that Ellie and Scarlett can’t possibly have the same father. One of them isn’t your daughter.’

Chapter Three
Nine months later October 1 2019

‘Ellie. Marcus here. I’m calling re: Christmas. I’ve got five mins between meetings so I thought I’d phone before you make any plans.’

Ellie’s heart sank at the mention of Christmas.

‘Hi, Marcus …’ Ellie could hear phones ringing in the background of her brother’s Birmingham office, in sharp contrast to the quiet of Seaholly Manor.

He launched in again, cutting her off.

‘It may only be the start of October, but you know Scarlett likes to organise us all. Or used to. It’s of no matter anyway, because we won’t be coming to the manor for Christmas. Although after last year’s catastrophe, I expect you’ve already worked that one out. I’m assuming that Mum and Dad won’t be there either.’

She held the phone away from her ear, trying to rein in her irritation. Finding out that their family wasn’t what they’d thought had been a hell of a shock for all of them, but Marcus had taken it very hard.

‘I don’t know what their plans are yet,’ she said patiently.

‘Whatever they decide to do – or not do – we definitely won’t be coming down to Cornwall. We’ve booked a skiing chalet in Courcheval with some friends and we leave on the twenty-seventh. Heidi thought it would be good for the boys to get some exercise instead of lazing about, and besides, they’re getting to the age where they’d rather be with their mates than hanging around with family in a draughty old house. And, to be honest, Heidi still hasn’t got over the trauma of last year. None of us have—’

‘Right …’ Ellie interrupted his flow. He sounded irritated and guilty and her own patience was running out as fast as sand in an egg timer. Which reminded her of last Christmas. Heidi’s face when Ellie had told her the eggnog tasted like sick. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

‘Um, Els … Have you seen Mum recently? I’ve been worried about her.’ Marcus’s clipped tone lost its edge, instantly taking Ellie back to the unsure younger brother she used to know. He did love their parents dearly and had been especially close to their mother. Marcus and his dad hadn’t always got on that well, but the bomb that Scarlett’s ‘Christmas gift’ had lobbed into that relationship had changed the dynamics.

Marcus was finding it hard to believe his mum had had an affair, and even harder to believe she wouldn’t admit to it. They all were, although Ellie’s priority was to support both parents in trying to save their marriage, which until eleven a.m. last Christmas Day, had appeared to be long and happy. Scarlett had been and still was devastated and since then, Ellie had had to set aside her own feelings of shock and disbelief to support the others as best she could. Privately, however, she’d spent many sleepless nights worrying about its devastating effects on her family.

‘Ellie?’

‘Not since she came to stay a couple of weeks ago. I’ve spoken to her on the phone plenty of times. She called me from work. I’ve spoken to Dad, too.’

‘And? Have they come to any decisions?’

‘Not yet. They’re still sleeping in separate rooms from what I can work out. Scarlett paid them a visit a couple of days ago.’

‘I’m surprised they let her in the house!’

‘Dad invited her … but Mum was there too. Marcus, how many times do I have to tell you that this mess isn’t Scarlett’s fault?’

‘I know it’s not totally her fault, obviously, but if she’d never bought that bloody test kit, none of this would have happened. She does have a tendency to put her foot in it, ever since she was a kid.’

‘Don’t blame Scarlett. This whole thing has hurt her more than anyone.’

‘She’s still not speaking to Mum, then?’

‘Not really. She still sees Dad and phones him, but I don’t think she and Mum are on speaking terms.’ Ellie wasn’t sure just how the revelations had changed Scarlett’s relationship with their father, but she wasn’t going to complicate things by voicing that to Marcus.

‘Humph.’

‘Marcus?’

‘I still say that the test was wrong.’

‘What? Both of them?’ Ellie replied, shuddering at the memory of Scarlett’s fresh disappointment when they took a private DNA test that proved she was ‘only’ Ellie’s half-sister. Their mother had been angry and hurt but continued to insist there had to be a mistake.

‘I wish none of this had ever happened. If Mum did – you know, with another bloke – then why won’t she admit it?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s obviously a deeply painful experience for her as well as the rest of us. Until, and if, Mum is willing to share the truth, how can you expect Scarlett – and Dad – to start understanding and forgiving her? We don’t know any of the circumstances.’

‘I suppose not …’ Marcus said grudgingly. Ellie hated to see the turmoil the family was going through, but as the eldest, she felt obliged to try and keep the peace. Her travels over the years had also, she admitted, given her a slight distance – and a fresh perspective on family life. She’d seen a lot of unusual family set-ups while she’d worked and lived all over the world, enough to remind her that no one’s circumstances were ever as smooth as they might appear.

The old grandfather clock struck the half hour, startling Ellie.

‘Marcus. Can we talk about this later, please?’ she asked. ‘I have to go to work. Someone’s off sick at the café and they want me for the lunch service.’

‘The café? I thought you were working on a yacht.’

‘It’s a vintage sailing trawler actually, but it’s the end of the season so I’m only helping in the office two days a week. I’ve started doing some shifts in the Harbour Café again.’

He huffed. ‘Oh, well, I suppose you need a bit of money for extras and stuff. Lucky you don’t have to pay a mortgage or rent.’

‘Mum and Dad seem OK with the arrangement at the moment, and they’ve got enough on their plate without worrying about whether or not to sell this place. It’s not good to leave old houses like this empty, especially over the winter. I’m keeping the place safe and secure until they decide what to do with it, and I’m doing the garden and small maintenance jobs.’ Which took up a lot of her time, she could have added, not that Marcus would realise, because he didn’t know one end of a screwdriver from another.

‘They can’t even decide whether they want to stay married, so I shouldn’t hold your breath. Although if they do get a divorce, they’ll have to sell the manor and you’ll have to move out.’

‘Sorry. What was that?’ Ellie held the phone at arm’s length, fuming quietly that her attempts to soothe him had obviously failed. ‘I can’t hear you, the signal’s really bad down here.’ She heard his tinny voice say something about ‘being prepared for the worst’ then banged the handset on the hall table. ‘Oh no! Damn! I’ve lost you. Speak soon!’

She hung up.

Swearing under her breath, Ellie scooped up her car keys from the hall table. With a bit of luck, Marcus would be too wrapped up in his waste-management meeting to remember he’d called her landline.

As she drove, she thought back on her conversation with Marcus – it had renewed her worries about everyone involved, especially Scarlett. While Marcus had gone into a similar path of denial to their mother, choosing to blame Ellie and Scarlett for opening up a can of worms, Scarlett had taken the opposite and perhaps more understandable route: retreating from their mum and blaming her. Ellie understood this, even if she thought it wouldn’t help the rifts to heal any faster, or encourage their mum to open up. Not only did Scarlett have to cope with the turmoil of their parents’ estrangement, she also had to come to terms with finding out that her dad wasn’t her biological father. Scarlett couldn’t even begin to do that while their mother refused to be honest with them.

At least Ellie’s work at the bustling Harbour Café, with its cheerful boss and quirky clientele, kept her mind off her problems for a while. She loved Porthmellow in all its moods, even on a foggy autumn evening such as this, with mist wreathing around the old clock tower and the waves slip-slopping against the harbour walls. With its cosy beamed interior, the café was at the heart of village life; bustling with locals and visitors from breakfast till teatime.

Twilight was falling by the time she walked out of the old building onto the quayside. It was almost completely dark when she reached the dead-end lane that followed a stream down one side of the steep valley to Seaholly Manor and then the tiny cove itself.

The bare branches of the trees lining the cove lane were spidery in the gloom. Some people might have found the manor spooky on their own, but Ellie had spent nights in some ‘interesting’ places around the world and ghosts didn’t bother her. In fact, she wouldn’t have minded a chat with Auntie Joan again, bless her. Ellie hadn’t seen her that often, but it was enough to miss her witty, sharp conversations and anecdotes about famous authors. Joan had never been shy about relating her romantic adventures either. Their mother would probably have been horrified to hear what she’d shared once the girls were over eighteen. Even before then, they’d delighted in reading her novels, especially the ones in black and red covers that were written under another name that Joan kept in a chest in her room and didn’t think they knew about.

Seaholly Manor had so many happy associations that Ellie felt she could never be afraid there. It was also unlikely that anyone would find their way down to the manor by accident, as it wasn’t signposted from the road. Unless the burglars had a thing for first editions and filthy fiction, there was nothing worth nicking anyway. Still, on such a gloomy night, she was looking forward to getting inside and making up the fire before phoning Scarlett to see if she was OK.

The road levelled out and narrowed over the last few hundred yards to the manor. From nowhere, a shadow darted out from the bushes and across the road.

Ellie let out a cry and swerved to avoid the fox. A heartbeat later, there was a bang as the car slammed against the hedgerow. The seatbelt tightened across her chest and there was only silence.

It took a few seconds for Ellie to get her breath back. Gingerly, she flexed her wrists and hands and waited for any stabs of pain in her neck or back. The seatbelt had done its job, which was why she was out of breath, but otherwise she seemed to be OK. The car, however, probably wasn’t. That sickening crash hadn’t been the sound of metal hitting mere twigs. Like many Cornish hedgerows, this one had an earthen bank, reinforced with stones, at its heart.

The vehicle was at an angle, so she was able to open the door and swing her legs onto the tarmac. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the road lit only by a sliver of moon appearing now and then from behind the clouds.

She shone her phone torch on the front of the car. The bonnet was warped and the bumper was crumpled and pushed back into the engine.

‘Oh f-f—’ It looked pretty bad and she already guessed that the insurance company would write it off. That was all she needed. She also had the problem of what to do next, because she doubted it was driveable. She’d have to call out the local garage to tow it, if she could get hold of them. She was blocking the road too, not that anyone else was likely to use it.

The car wouldn’t start, so she was about to phone the Porthmellow Garage when she heard the low rumble of another vehicle coming down the lane. Two headlights wavered in the gloom and her heart sank further.

They belonged to a Ford Transit of the kind Scarlett loved to call a ‘kidnapper’s van’. Hairs stood up on the back of Ellie’s neck and she prepared to jump into the Fiesta and lock the doors. It stopped a few feet away, the door opened and a man got out. She didn’t recognise him but she knew one thing: he cut an unnerving figure in the dark. He was over six feet, wearing a black leather jacket and built like the proverbial brick outhouse.

She debated whether to jump inside while she had the chance, but told herself to be sensible and assume he had a rational explanation for being on the lane. A wrong turn in the fog was surely more likely than him looking for people to abduct?

‘Hello. Are you OK?’ he called as he approached. His accent wasn’t broad, but more importantly, his tone was concerned. Ellie let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

‘Yes. My car isn’t though. I swerved because of a fox … It was instinct. That’s why I’m blocking the road.’

‘That doesn’t matter, as long as you’re not hurt. You’re sure you’re all right?’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Ellie gave him a closer look. ‘Did you take a wrong turning down here in the fog? Porthmellow’s the next road.’

He smiled. ‘No, I meant to drive down here. I’m Aaron Carman. I’ve just moved into Cove Cottage.’

‘Really? I had no idea …You weren’t there yesterday when I went for a walk on the beach.’ And no one had told her that a man was moving into the only other house for a mile around, and she’d have expected to hear about it on the Porthmellow grapevine. ‘I’m Ellie Latham. I live at the manor house,’ she added.

‘Pleased to meet you, Ellie, but not under these circumstances. Actually, I only moved in late last night. I brought my own stuff in the van. I don’t have much.’ He tutted loudly at the Fiesta. ‘Your car could be a write-off, you know.’

‘I know.’ She gritted her teeth.

‘That’s a shame. Would you like me to help you shift it to the manor?’

Ellie was more aware than ever that she was alone in the dark with a complete stranger offering to come to her house. On the other hand, it would be a lot simpler than calling out the garage in Porthmellow after hours.

‘Um …’

‘It’s no trouble,’ he said, moving closer and resting his hand on the bonnet.

Ellie looked up at him and a light bulb flashed in her brain. Those handsome features, the light brown skin, his upright bearing … ‘Did you say you were called Aaron Carman?’

‘Yes. Why? Has my bad reputation preceded me down here?’

Ellie smiled, despite her predicament. She felt on safer ground now. ‘No. The opposite, in fact. You must be Troy and Evie’s son? I’d no idea you were moving into the cottage. I thought you were in the army.’

He smiled. ‘I was, but I’m out now. Long story. Now, come on, why don’t you let me help you with the car?’

Her feeling of relief from knowing Aaron was unlikely to be a serial killer was followed by the minor irritation that he thought she couldn’t handle the situation. ‘It might be difficult getting it to start at all. Do you know anything about cars?’

‘A bit. I was in charge of a tank-mechanic engineering squad in the army until recently. I’ve dug armoured vehicles out of ditches, so I think I might be able to get your Fiesta down to the manor.’

‘Oh. OK …’ Ellie silently cursed herself for underestimating him but also realised she was in no position to refuse his help. ‘In that case, I’d really appreciate it. Thanks.’

Aaron helped her push the car off the road and then fetched a rope from the van before moving it ahead of the Fiesta. In no time, with Ellie at the wheel, he’d towed her the few hundred yards to the manor.

She unlocked the door and stood in the hall with him. The lights revealed him in his full glory. Though he had to be in his mid-forties, he was still a very good-looking guy, with an easy-going confidence that sat well with his military bearing. She could also see the resemblance to his mother, Evie, who lived in the town and was on the festival committee.

‘I’ll call the garage in the morning,’ she said, wondering what to say next. She didn’t want to seem forward but also felt she should thank him in some way. ‘Erm, would you like to come in for a coffee, or are you too busy unpacking?’

‘I’m not too busy for a coffee. Thanks. Better wash my hands first, though.’

‘Me too.’ She held up her grubby palms. ‘There’s a cloakroom here off the hall and that’s the sitting room opposite. Make yourself at home. I’ll be back with the coffee in a minute.’

Now the adrenaline of dealing with the accident was wearing off, Ellie was calming down. She scrubbed her own hands in the scullery sink and then made a pot of strong coffee. She really felt like having a whisky with it but decided against it.

A few minutes later, she was sitting opposite Aaron, both of them cradling mugs. He’d poured liberal amounts of hot milk into his and added a spoon of sugar. He certainly didn’t need to watch his diet, Ellie thought, hardly able to take her eyes off his impressive physique. There was no way that anyone would fit on the love seat beside him. He must have been six foot three at least, and she could hardly miss the breadth of his thighs or the width of his shoulders especially now he’d taken off his jacket and laid it neatly on the back of a chair. Every time he moved, some muscle or other rippled.

He sipped his coffee and smiled. ‘You know, I was a bit worried about stopping on the lane in the dark.’

Ellie laughed, slightly nervously, as she recalled her initial reaction to him. ‘Why? Did you think I might be a serial killer?’

He chuckled. ‘No, I thought you might think I was. I can come as a bit of a shock to some people.’

You can say that again, thought Ellie. ‘I should have recognised your name at once. Your mum has mentioned you to me before but I was a bit shaken by the bump. How long have you been out of the army?’

‘Not that long. I left a couple of months ago but recently decided to move here. I’m starting a new business … I’m my own boss. Do you know my mum and dad well?’

‘A bit. I’ve got to know them better since I’ve been involved in the Winter Solstice Festival. Evie and Troy are on the committee, as I’m sure you know.’

‘You’ll never get away now. It’s all I hear about from them. Have you lived here long?’

‘Only since last autumn. This isn’t my house. It belongs to my parents but I’m caretaker until they decide what to do with it. Maybe your mum mentioned it?’ she asked, wondering how much gossip there was about her parents’ situation. She’d told her boss at the café and a couple of colleagues at the sailing trust and there was bound to have been talk about the row that resulted in Scarlett’s dramatic entrance at the pub on Christmas Day.

‘I only hear the gossip Mum tells me in her emails and letters. A lot of it means nothing to me, but Mum loves keeping me up to date so I was always happy to hear it. Since I’ve come home, she’s had a field day with all the latest Porthmellow scandal.’

Ellie wondered if he did know about the Lathams but was too polite to say as much. ‘Your mum’s lovely. So funny and kind. She must have missed you very much while you were away.’

‘Maybe more than she’d let on. I joined up when I was eighteen and I’ve spent most of my time in REME.’