‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Go to Mum and Dad’s for a bit, I guess. Look for a job.’
There was a new vulnerability in his voice and all of a sudden I felt sorry for him. ‘Listen, don’t worry about the whole I’m-not-as-good-as-Ed thing,’ I said in a rush. ‘You’re different, that’s all. Just like I’m different from my sisters. And I did the same as you, too: drifting here and there, not really settling down, right until this summer when I inherited the café. It was only then that I realized this is the right place for me, the right life. I bet there’s something out there that’s perfect for you, too. You just have to keep looking.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I will.’ We’d reached the steps up to the café and he paused. I could see his face now, lit by the outside lamps on the decking, but his expression was wary. ‘Evie – are we cool? Can we . . . start again?’
‘Of course we can,’ I said, feeling my heart lift. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s see if that bourguignon is ready.’
The next morning, a strange, unusually bright light was leaking through the curtains and as I pulled them back I saw that a thick blanket of glistening snow lay across the beach, covering the dunes. ‘It’s snowing!’ I cried excitedly. ‘Ed, wake up!’
Just like in my dream, fresh snow was tumbling down from the leaden sky, turning everything to white. The beach looked unnaturally dazzling and even the sea seemed chastened, down at low tide. ‘It’s so beautiful,’ I breathed, unable to stop gazing at the hypnotic, swirling flakes. Then I remembered that Jake and Amber had both said they’d be heading home today. Ahh.
‘Oh Lord,’ Amber groaned, as we ate breakfast. ‘It doesn’t show much sign of stopping any time soon, does it? I wonder what the trains are like. I hope they’re still running.’ She grabbed her phone. ‘Let’s see what my travel app has to say.’
As soon as she turned it on, her phone began beeping with texts, then ringing, and she glared at it, jabbing a button to block the call.
‘God, he’s persistent, isn’t he, old David?’ I said. ‘You have to hand it to him. Here, let’s look on mine instead.’
I didn’t have my mobile turned on all that often in Cornwall – reception was a bit hit and miss, depending on the weather, and our router sometimes dipped in and out, making the Wi-Fi unpredictable. Today when I switched it on though, I was able to get online straightaway and even heard the pinging noise of a few texts arriving too . . . followed by several more texts. Then yet more.
‘Blimey, what’s all this about?’ I wondered, going to my messages. My eyes widened as I saw how many people had sent them: Mum, Louise, Ruth, Isabelle, Betty . . . BETTY?
I opened the latter in surprise. Is that you half-naked in the Daily Star?? I read and nearly choked on my porridge. ‘What is she on about?’ I said. ‘Half-naked in the Daily Star? I think she’s been at the cooking sherry again.’
‘Oh no,’ Amber said. She was reading some of her texts. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘What?’
‘My bloody agent let slip to some bastard celeb journalist that I’d come down here, and now . . .’ She passed me her phone. ‘Well, basically, you are half-naked in the Daily Star.’
‘What?’ I squawked, then my eyes almost dropped out of my head as I saw the headline on her browser.
‘AMBER’S LESBIAN LOVE TRIANGLE,’ I read in disbelief. ‘No way,’ I said, clapping my hand to my mouth. No wonder I had so many texts. Because there on screen was a colour photograph of me posing in my apron and lippy while Amber laughingly adjusted my reindeer antlers. You could actually see my bare bum. My bare bum was on page 7 of the Daily Star! I burst into shocked laughter. ‘They think we’re having an affair!’
‘Who’s having an affair?’ Ed said, walking into the kitchen at that moment.
By now I was verging on hysteria. It was the funniest, most bizarre thing I’d ever seen. ‘Me and Amber,’ I spluttered, showing him the picture. ‘We’re in the Star. Two sides of a lesbian love triangle. Did I not mention that?’
‘What . . . ? When was this taken? What were you doing?’ He stared at me, completely discombobulated.
I couldn’t actually speak for laughing any more. Amber, too, had tears rolling down her face. ‘This is brilliant,’ she gurgled. ‘Hilarious!’
‘“Sexy Amber Fox seems to be recovering from her recent split with David Maguire just fine,”’ I read aloud in a breathy voice. ‘“Hidden away down in Cornwall, we snapped her taking saucy photos of her mystery dark-haired lover” – oh my God. Unbelievable.’