Summer at the Cornish Cafe: The perfect summer romance for 2018 . Phillipa Ashley

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СКАЧАТЬ he does. Bigger, beefier, the extra weight suits him and he looks happy. It’s great to see him; I never expected to feel so emotional so I must be going soft. Luke gives me a man hug again, but this time I suppress the wince.

      He stares at me. ‘Man, you look thin … I can’t believe this … I just … I don’t know what to say.’

      He lets me go and rubs his hand over his face, shaking his head in shock. I don’t blame him. I’ve changed a lot while I’ve been away.

      ‘Cal! Cal!’ My cousin Robyn launches herself at me, tears streaming down her face, along with the kohl around her eyes. Robyn’s every bit as good a mate as any of the lads – more even. ‘Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?’ Her fingers dig into my forearm but I don’t mind. It’s wonderful to see her again.

      ‘I don’t know. Admin problems? Leaves on the line? Happy birthday, by the way.’

      Uncle Rory downs the rest of his whisky and dumps the glass on a table. ‘It’s not a matter for levity, boy. We haven’t heard from you for months. For all we knew, you might have been dead.’

      ‘As you can see, I’m not.’

      ‘Don’t joke! You know damn well what I mean. We thought you’d decided to stay in the Middle East for good.’

      ‘I almost did,’ I say, with half an eye on Isla, watching me from a few feet away, still dumbstruck and even more beautiful than she looked in that newspaper article. She’s let her blonde hair grow and it’s been cut in a style that manages to be both classy and damn sexy.

      ‘How long have you known you were coming home?’ Rory asks.

      ‘A few days.’

      His face is almost purple. ‘Then why didn’t you call us? We’ve hardly heard from you in the past two years.’

      Isla has abandoned her glass and is hugging herself as if she’s freezing cold. Under the light tan, which I presume she picked up on her last shoot in Cannes, she’s pale as the moon on the sea.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I say more to Isla than my uncle. ‘I’ve been … tied up and I couldn’t get away from work that easily.’ I swallow hard. ‘It’s been … complicated.’

      ‘Too tied up or complicated to phone us or email?’ Luke asks, an edge creeping into his voice. I can’t blame him.

      ‘Why didn’t you phone or text, if only to say you were on your way home?’ Isla’s voice cuts through the air, more London than in my imagination, yet still with the Cornish lilt. Everyone else may as well be on Mars.

      ‘It’s complicated,’ I repeat, knowing I can never un-complicate it or tell anyone the real truth. ‘I’ve only been in the UK for a few hours and I did call you.’ With a smile, I switch the focus back to Isla. ‘I tried to call you on the train here but your phone was dead.’

      She smiles back, apologetically. ‘Oh … I’m sorry. I’ve changed my phone and my number while you’ve been away. I had to; a fan got hold of it and started stalking me.’

      ‘A fan?’

      ‘Isla’s a celebrity now.’ Her mother glares at me like Medusa, obviously hoping to turn me to stone while her dad takes refuge in his champagne glass. He always was a man of few words and he’s lost for them now. ‘She’s an award-winning TV and film producer, you know,’ Mrs Channing adds.

      ‘I know that. I read about the last one in the newspaper. Congratulations.’

      ‘So you had time to read the papers?’ Isla remarks. She wrinkles her nose like she used to when she was trying not to cry. Like she did when I left her at the station the night I left Cornwall.

      ‘Actually I did email you on my way down on the train,’ I go on, refusing to let Isla off the hook.

      ‘Oh, Cal. I haven’t even looked at my emails since yesterday. We’ve all been completely tied up here all day, organising the party … and Luke forbade me to do any work this weekend, didn’t you?’

      ‘Forbade you?’

      ‘I forbade myself.’

      She puts her glass down on the table but it’s my hands shaking now as I walk towards her. A huge wave of memories thunders towards me and I pull her into my arms. I’m swept away by the sight and smell and feel of her. She is fragile, delicate, a porcelain figure, always way out of my league. Instinct stirs responses I can’t stop and don’t want to, even in the middle of company. I press her against me and her hands seek my spine through my shirt as if she wants to double check I’m real, not a phantom. I inhale her perfume. It’s a new one, sharper and more sophisticated than the scents she used to wear, or is that my imagination?

      ‘You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.’ I breathe the words into her hair, which smells even better than I remember it.

      ‘Cal …’

      Her whisper pushes me away, then I realise that her hands are also pushing me away from her too. No. I won’t let her go yet. I could lift her off her feet if I wanted to, and carry her out of here in a second but she is controlling this moment; this moment I’ve hungered and thirsted for so long. There’s deep pain in her eyes and the realisation smacks me in the chest. ‘Isla?’

      ‘I’m sorry but things have changed.’ Her voice cracks with emotion and it’s all I can do to hold it together.

      Changed? Yeah, I guess. You look even hotter than ever, if that’s possible. You smell wonderful too. I want to say the words out loud but something stops me. Instead I lift my hand to her cheek and feel the soft skin under my fingertips.

      She smiles and then flinches away from my hand. ‘Please. Not here. Not now.’

      Everyone is looking at us; we’re the dancers in the middle of a circle that no one dares to join.

      ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate the happy couple?’ Mrs Channing, Isla’s mother, speaks.

      ‘What happy couple? I thought this was a birthday party? Is there something I’m missing here?’ I make my tone light but my stomach churns with foreboding.

      ‘It is a birthday party but we’ve just heard some more good news. Isla and Luke have announced they’re getting engaged. Isn’t that wonderful news?’ her mother trills.

      ‘Engaged?’ Shock constricts my throat muscles. ‘You mean engaged to be married?’

      Isla laughs lightly. ‘Well, there isn’t going to be a wedding yet. Not for a while.’

      ‘But probably this year. Definitely early next year,’ Luke cuts in, with an expression on his face I don’t recognise.

      ‘We haven’t set a date yet, these things take a lot of organising and I’m so busy with work.’ Isla glances at Luke for confirmation.

      Robyn links her arm with mine. ‘They told us just before you came in, Cal. Isn’t it an amazing day? Dad’s birthday, the engagement and you coming home …’

      Robyn СКАЧАТЬ