Page 7 of The Little Cottage by the Cornish Sea

As I lugged my essentials along the High Street, I got the strange sensation of being followed.

The possibility of Will somehow discovering my whereabouts loomed at the back of my mind, and I wondered how long it would take me to stop looking over my shoulder at every turn.

After all those hours of driving, all the miles between us, shouldn’t I feel at least somewhat safe?

I ducked into a bakery/café called The Rolling Scones. Scones? Don’t mind if I do. I rubbed my hands in anticipation and went inside, the fragrance of baked goods just out of the oven immediately filling my nostrils, along with the smell of freshly ground coffee.

At the very back, next to the window, was an old pub piano. I hadn’t been in the same room with a piano for years. I didn’t even know if I could play anymore.

I sat at a tiny table away from the windows, shoving my bags under my chair as an elderly man whom I assumed was the owner smiled at me and brought me a menu.

‘Mornin’, Miss,’ he chimed. ‘What does your sweet tooth require this morning? Can I tempt you with a nice big wedge of carrot cake?’

‘Ooh, yes please,’ I answered, despite myself.

I knew I shouldn’t have been spending my money so carelessly, but it was difficult not to swoon.

The entire glass counter was full of a huge assortment of everything, and maybe cake and a cuppa would calm my frazzled nerves.

‘Your shop is beautiful, as is Starry Cove.’

He nodded. ‘Thank you. We like it too. It’s one of Cornwall’s best-kept secrets. We want it to change as little as possible.’

‘I agree. It’s such a warm and welcoming place. The people are so friendly!’

At that, he laughed. ‘Well, most of us are.’

‘I came here as a little girl and it’s still such a beautiful little village, just as I’d remembered it, with the breakwater and even the small island off the coast. What is it, Squally Isle, I seem to remember?’

‘Ah, some people now call it Tempest Island, but I think it’s dreadful. Why change a good thing?’

‘Who would want to change such a quaint name?’ I mused. ‘It sounds so removed from the real world.’

‘It does. But everyone knows it’s become the place to run and hide.’

I snapped my head up, panic licking its way up my insides. ‘I’m sorry, w-what?’

‘A lot of celebrities call this place home. The scriptwriter Nina Conte, and the journalist Natalie Amore and her sister Yolanda Amore.’

‘The celebrity chef?’

‘Yes. And then the architect Henry Turner and the interior designer Faith Hudson. And so many more. They all live along the coast.’

‘Oh, my word, what has this place become ?’

‘A well-kept secret. I hope you will respect that.’

‘Oh, of course,’ I promised. No one craved anonymity as much as I did.

Everyone had a right to be left in peace, to not have to inform anyone of their whereabouts.

Even if their very future didn’t depend on it.

They could always open shop somewhere else, what with their millions, but where was I going to go?

‘Here, I always give newcomers free muffins in the hope they’ll come back for more,’ he said with a chuckle as he put four muffins in a bag and set it on my table. ‘For those long, dark nights in front of the telly,’ he said with a wink.

‘Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. Let me pay you for them.’

‘Nonsense! Just come back for that slice of carrot cake another time.’

I promised I would, though with my limited budget I didn’t know when that would be.

I had to save up for Baby, and I didn’t have a telly or a laptop, for that matter.

That would require some serious saving, and anyway, I wanted to put it off for as long as I could just in case Will tried to track me.

I didn’t even know if that was possible, but if it was, Will would know someone who could do it.

He knew a lot of people who owed him favours.

The rest of my afternoon was spent exploring an old-fashioned candy shop, an antique shop, a miniature boat model shop, a basket-weaver and even a gallery full of glass art made of glass that had washed up on the beach.

It was comforting to know that there were still people working with their hands, making beautiful things that people appreciated and would pay good money for, although beauty in my mind was priceless.

As I ambled past the harbour, every now and then throwing a cautious glance behind me until I convinced myself it had all been my imagination and that no one was following me, I caught sight of the breakwater from which Dad and I used to jump into the sea, shrieking with delight as we hit the water, never letting go of each other’s hand.

Then we’d slowly float back to the surface and burst into laughter for the sheer joy of being alive.

Together, we’d swim back to the shore and have lunch, after which a chocolate lolly for me and a vanilla cone for him.

I understood only now what it was all about.

Happiness. I hadn’t had that in a long time.

But my best memories were here, in Cornwall, and that was why I’d come here: to try and recapture it.

The crisp wind made my eyes water and I swiped at my cheeks.

At the very end of the quay, just before the next cove, I stopped in sheer, newfound delight at the sight of a barge covered with fairy lights. There was a sign reading:

Books On The Barge. Come in and have some cake, a cuppa and a read! No need to buy.

Books? More Cake? Had I died and found my very own personal Nirvana?

I wished I had come here sooner. I wished I had left Will years ago, and returned to Starry Cove to settle into a quiet life, and not in faceless London where, had it not been for Tamsin and her family, I would have been completely alone.

‘Hi! Fancy a wander?’ came a soft voice from the door. It belonged to a pretty girl with beautiful eyes and a kind face.

‘Oh! Yes, thank you, I—’

‘Come in, come in!’ she beckoned and I found myself inside the barge, surrounded by walls covered in books. There were armchairs sided by lamps everywhere. Warm and cosy, it looked like many lovely living rooms in one. In the warm air hung the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee.

‘Sit, sit, you look frozen! Can I offer you a nice hot drink? I have these amazing scones that Ralph from the bakery made an hour ago.’

‘Oh, you mean the bloke from The Rolling Scones? He just gave me some muffins…’

‘Save those for later! I’m Emmie,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘And this,’ she said, turning to a crib in the corner, ‘is Felicity.’

I jumped out of my seat to take a peek at the little face under the tiny, pink bonnet. I’d never really been a baby person, or even known a baby except for little Jake, Tamsin’s baby, i.e., my godson.

‘Oh my God, she is so beautiful ,’ I swooned despite my promising myself that I’d never be one of those women who lost it over a baby.

But here I was, close to tears because of the beauty of such a little miracle.

It must have been my hormones wreaking havoc on my brain.

I’d read about it, but I never thought it would happen to me.

And right there and then, it hit me in all its reality.

Soon, I too would have a baby in my arms. From a man who’d happily fed me to the police.

Emmie’s face dropped when she saw my tears. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trigger anything…!’

‘I’m sorry, I’m all right,’ I said, swiping at my eyes with my little finger and bending down to Felicity, who continued to sleep without a care in the world.

What the hell was wrong with me? I never cried, and yet, the moment I’d left London, it was like a dam of pent-up tears had broken.

Better get a hold of myself. ‘I’m Sophie, by the way. ’

‘Pleased to meet you! I’m glad for the company. My husband is at his own shop and I miss him when he’s not around.’

Now that was a feeling that I had been estranged to for quite a while.

‘Aw, that’s so sweet.’

‘Oh, yes. Now that we have the baby, he’s extra attentive. He always jumps up in worry, “What’s wrong, honey, are you okay, can I get you anything?” Talk about being smothered with love, you know?’

I smiled and nodded, wishing I really did know what she was talking about. Memories of Will slamming doors behind him were all I had.

‘Coffee or tea?’ Emmie asked.

‘Tea, please.’

Baby Felicity suddenly woke up and began to cry.

‘There, there, sweetheart,’ Emmie soothed. ‘She does that every once in a while. I just rock her a bit and then she’s okay. Would you like to rock her crib?’

I bit my lip. People were so weird and afraid for their babies nowadays, but Emmie seemed perfectly normal. I wondered whether I was even able. How was I ever going to manage with my own baby?

‘She likes it when I rock her. Here, have a go,’ she said with a wink.

I reached out a hand and gently pulled the crib to and fro, softly humming some indistinct lullaby I remembered snippets of. She immediately stopped crying.

‘Well done,’ Emmie whispered. ‘You’re a natural.’

‘She is a little miracle,’ I couldn’t help but murmur over a tight throat.

Emmie chuckled. ‘She is, when she’s sleeping. Awake, she’s gurgly and burpy and never stops moving. I love her to pieces.’

‘You’re a good mum,’ I blurted out before I could stop myself. What right did I have to judge her? What did I know about mothers? My own had seemed like the best. And yet, she’d left.

‘I try. Of course it’s not easy, but Jago is always there for his us.’

‘Did you say Jago? Does he own the Bend Or Bump, by any chance, or is it another Jago?’

She laughed. ‘That’s him, the one and only Jago in the village. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Raising a kid is no easy feat. I’d be in real trouble if he wasn’t around.’

I nodded absently. This was something I was going to have to do on my own. I didn’t have a Jago.

‘Sophie? Are you okay?’