Breakfast Under A Cornish Sun: The perfect romantic comedy for summer. Samantha Tonge

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СКАЧАТЬ reception to check in, whilst I decided to take a look around. She entered a huge white building, with the spa and pool signposted in its right-hand side wing. The left of it housed a restaurant called … I squinted at a sign: ‘Fisherman’s Delight’. Swatting away a fly, I headed up a path, with lodges either side, and eventually came to a nine-hole golf course—at least that’s what the sign said. It should have said rabbit sanctuary, as the sweetest fudge-coloured bunnies hopped around. You could hardly see the putting greens as the grass everywhere was so long it sashayed in the breeze. I gazed into the distance, at dipping and rising hills. A group of swallows swept across, near a flag, and I walked forward to get a closer look.

      ‘’Ey,’ said a loud voice. ‘That area is out of bounds, r-right.’

      Ooh. A strong, sexy Cornish accent. Rolled ‘r’s made me break out in a sweat. And if the loud assistant at the petrol station was anything to go by, Cornish men thought most people were deaf.

      I turned. Out of the bushes appeared a frowning man, around my age, wearing beige chinos and a tight red shirt. Gosh. I swallowed. For some reason his appearance made an impact. Was it the toned arms that held a pair of garden shears as he walked up to me? Perhaps he’d used them on his head, I thought, as his fawn brown hair was shaved shorter than the hair on my legs. Cheeks hot, I forced my arms to stay vertical, as I experienced a sudden desire to run a hand over his short hair and around the back of his neck. My eyes scoured his solid frame, which looked kind of reliable. Something about his stance, the line of his jaw, shouted that he’d be there for you, in an emergency. And those leaf-green eyes … once I met them I found it impossible to turn away.

      We stared at each other, with intense eye contact. It wasn’t awkward nor embarrassing. And the oddest sensation washed over me. As if I knew this person. Or understood him. Or, somehow had a deep connection.

      I know. Stupid. And, at the sight of me, his expressionless face didn’t look fazed.

      ‘Apologies,’ I said and smiled, finally managing to avert my gaze. I pointed to the sky. ‘I just wanted a closer look at the swallows.’

      ‘Not swallows,’ he said. ‘Try ’ouse martins. Their forked tails are shorter.’

      ‘Ah … and there’s me thinking you only found albatrosses and eagles on golf courses,’ I said, quite proud of my sporting pun and loving the way he dropped that ‘h’.

      Still expressionless, he walked forward and pointed to a sign: ‘Golf course out-of-bounds due to ongoing renovation work’. ‘Those party shoes of yours would cause divets, or dents at least, in the turf. You’ll do better ’ere if you keep to sensible footwear.’

      My cheeks flushed. Party wear? Um, no, these were just my favourite platform sandals of the moment to give my legs a bit of height. I gazed at him, in his soily slim-legged trousers and walkers’ boots, then down at my strappy shoes and baggy patterned harem pants. Our style couldn’t have been more different.

      ‘It just needs a good mow from what I can tell,’ I said, accidentally thinking out loud. I read his name badge: Tremain Maddock.

      ‘And you be an expert on all things ’orticultural?’

      Oh. What a shame. His rudeness quickly overrode his curious wow factor.

      ‘I own indoor plants,’ I said airily. ‘And you don’t need a degree in biology to know how to keep a lawn short. Rabbits alone won’t do the job.’

      ‘Really? And there’s me coming over all Snow White, thinking that birds and critters would do my work.’

      His mouth twitched and I couldn’t decide if that was sarcasm or a joke.

      ‘No. Above all you need time,’ he continued. ‘And that costs money when you’ve lodges to keep clean and entrance ways to keep smart.’ He pointed to a crisp packet on the ground. ‘That yours?’

      ‘Excuse me, I’m no litterbug,’ I said and folded my arms.

      He raised an eyebrow.

      ‘And I resent you—’

      ‘Please. Don’t,’ he muttered, as if … he was already the most resented person in the world.

      He broke eye contact and picked up the packet, before heading back in the direction of the reception building. I had to force myself to stay rooted to the spot, in order to fight an overwhelming urge to rush over and wrap my arms around those broad shoulders.

      I shook myself. Well, I couldn’t see what damage it would do, just to have a tiny walk forwards and look at those sweeping, beautiful birds. Plus, I thought I saw one of the bunnies limping and my soft centre would allow me to leave until I’d checked that it was OK.

      ‘Oi!’ called that voice again, as I took a step in the forbidden direction. I turned around.

      ‘I told you. Keep off that grass.’

      ‘Look, I just want to check on one rabbit. It looked as if it had sprained its foot.’

      ‘And if it ’ad, what would you do? Catch it? Impossible. So scare the lot for the sake of a pointless mission? Plus, they’d all look the same once they scattered.’

      ‘Cold or what?’ I muttered under my breath.

      He flinched. ‘No. Just practical. Sometimes you have to act for the good of the majority, even if that means sacrificing an individual.’

      I should have felt like laughing at such a dramatic statement, but the way his top lip quivered made me stop. Within seconds, his deadpan face returned.

      ‘Anyway, what’s the big deal?’ My mouth upturned, more and more curious about him and therefore determined to get a reaction. ‘Management will never know.’

      ‘I am management,’ he muttered.

      ‘In that get-up?’ I gazed at his grass-stained top. ‘Don’t get me wrong—I couldn’t care less what anyone wears, what I do care about is people lying.’

      He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then shook his head and stalked off.

      ‘Jeez! No wonder this place is struggling with that level of customer service,’ I said to Izzy later, in our gold lodge. And worth its weight in gold it was, to me, with the pine furnishings, lush green view and cute floral curtains. OK, so the kitchen worktops were chipped and the sofa was just a bit too squishy, but it was a little bit of heaven for someone, like me, whose last holiday had been a weekend in Blackpool three years ago, in a creaky caravan, with an elder sister and three adorable but super-active small nieces.

      ‘And what sort of name is Tremain?’ I said as I lay across the sofa. Izzy was in the kitchen area, putting away the last of the food. I’d carried our suitcases into the rooms and hung up Johnny’s heart wind spinner above my bed. From the first moment I’d met him, Johnny had been nothing but polite and attentive. Not qualities I was used to after my bustling childhood. One-to-ones were rare with anyone I loved. The most time I had with Mum was when she took me to the dentist. I smiled. Yet, truth be told, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Oh, I loved my independence now but my memory bank was stocked full with happy images, of Christmases full of hugs and laughter.

      Yet Mum always drilled into me one thing: never rely on anyone else. Unexpected tears sprung СКАЧАТЬ