A Perfect Cornish Christmas. Phillipa Ashley

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Название A Perfect Cornish Christmas
Автор произведения Phillipa Ashley
Жанр Сказки
Серия
Издательство Сказки
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780008316167



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course not. I love being surrounded by her treasures. I’m glad Mum and Dad decided to keep her dressing table set and knick-knacks. Are you sure you don’t mind? Don’t you want the biggest room?’

      ‘They’re all pretty spacious and mine is closest to the bathroom. You can even get a glimpse of the sea on a clear day,’ Ellie said.

      ‘I don’t feel so bad, in that case.’

      ‘I’ll leave you to unpack while I put some dinner on.’

      ‘I don’t want you waiting on me hand and foot,’ said Scarlett.

      Ellie put on a stern face, which funnily enough reminded Scarlett a hell of a lot of Auntie Joan – minus the perm and pearls of course. ‘Actually, after tonight I was hoping you’d be waiting on me. You’ll be wishing you were Cinderella when I give you the household rota.’

      ‘Better enjoy tonight while I can, then,’ Scarlett said with a smile, thinking how happy her sister seemed. Living in Porthmellow really suited her.

      ‘Better had.’

      The stairs creaked as Ellie jogged back downstairs. Hearing the clang of pots and pans and Ellie humming in the kitchen below, Scarlett drew the curtains and sat down on the bed. Her pulse quickened as she looked around the room. Auntie Joan’s dressing table was a 1950s mahogany affair and Scarlett knew that its drawers held treasured reminders of her. Joan had been her mother’s auntie, so Anna had been in charge of deciding which possessions to keep or give away. Most of the book collection was downstairs in the floor-to-ceiling fitted bookcases that lined Joan’s study, but a few were kept here in Joan’s bedroom in an alcove full of shelves.

      Taking a deep breath, Scarlett crossed to the shelves and scanned them. Inside one of these books was the postcard that she’d been waiting to examine ever since they’d sorted through them the previous summer.

      Although she couldn’t remember the exact inscription, she knew it had something to do with a ‘special night’ or a ‘memorable night’ and had been addressed to her mother, with love and kisses at the end. It was definitely more than a friendly card, or she’d thought so at the time. However, even though the card had struck her as odd, she’d dismissed it from her mind until her parentage had been called into question.

      Whilst hunting for it felt disloyal to her dad, who she loved dearly, she couldn’t let the chance to know about her roots pass her by. There was a yawning chasm in her life story that no amount of reassurance or denial could fill. She couldn’t rest until she’d found the truth and now that she had an opportunity, she was filled with nervous excitement and dread.

      She tried to calm down. She was searching for a book with a distinctive cover of painted seashells and a starfish. She ran her finger over the shelves, looking for the slim volume. Treasures of the Cornish Seashore. Or something like that.

      It had been on the bottom shelf, if she remembered rightly, when they were sorting out Joan’s things. A faded softback from the 1970s with the postcard of St Ives inserted – hidden? – in the centre.

      She gave the bottom shelf a closer inspection, sure she must have missed the book, but still couldn’t locate it. Frowning, she checked the middle and top shelves; the alcove was narrow so it wasn’t likely she’d missed it, but she was tired after the drive … On her third careful pass over every spine, she had to admit defeat. Damn, she wanted to pull out every book just to make sure. Had she completely misremembered the title? There were guides to flowers and birds and rocks and minerals, but no treasures of the seashore.

      The book definitely wasn’t on the same shelf as before.

      She felt completely deflated, and had to remind herself that she hadn’t moved all this way only to track down a postcard.

      She was about to double check all the shelves again when she heard the front door open and Ellie’s voice.

      ‘Hi! It’s horrible outside. Come in, quick.’

      Scarlett crossed to the bedroom door, which was open a little way. She put her ear to the gap, intrigued by the fevered edge of excitement in Ellie’s voice. Ellie laughed and then the front door closed and a man’s voice could be heard.

      ‘I saw the car. I’m not stopping, because you have visitors, but I wanted to say that I’ve finally got hold of the new door panel for your car.’

      Scarlett listened even harder. Wow. Ellie and her mystery man both sounded like dogs with two tails. They were obviously very happy to be in each other’s company.

      ‘Scarlett!’

      At the sound of footsteps trotting upstairs, Scarlett shot back towards the bed and unzipped her bag.

      ‘Are you decent?’ Ellie asked at the door.

      ‘Course I am. Just unpacking. Come in.’ Scarlett pulled out some stuff and tossed it on the bed.

      Ellie stepped inside.

      ‘Aaron’s here. He popped in to update me on my car. He lives down by the cove. He can’t stay long but do you want to say hello?’ Ellie lowered her voice. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not one of the lonely lunch people. In fact, he’s almost as new to Porthmellow as you, and I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet someone who isn’t part of the establishment.’

      ‘Sounds like a good idea. I’d love to meet him.’ Scarlett gave Ellie a knowing look. ‘Aaron, you say?’

      ‘Yes. He’s Troy and Evie’s son. They were at the pub on Christmas Day, actually, but don’t let that bother you.’

      ‘I look a bit of a mess after the journey,’ Scarlett said, indicating her old jeggings and hoodie.

      ‘Oh, Aaron won’t care. That doesn’t matter. We’re all casual round here, you know that.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘Besides, doesn’t look as if you got very far with the unpacking.’

      ‘No, I only just started. To be honest, I was knackered and lay on the bed and chilled out,’ Scarlett said, feeling guilty for fibbing to her sister. ‘There’s loads of time for sorting my stuff tomorrow.’

      ‘True. Do you want to stay up here and chill out, then?’ Was that a hint of disappointment in Ellie’s voice, or did she want to be alone with this new guy?

      Scarlett decided she wanted to see him, anyway. ‘No way. I’d love to meet the new neighbour.’

      Ellie beamed. ‘Come on then, let’s unleash you on Aaron.’

      Whatever Scarlett had been expecting from Aaron, she wasn’t prepared for the gladiator of a man sprawled over the love seat in the sitting room. He looked perfectly at ease there, as if he’d been in the house numerous times before. So, thought Scarlett with secret amusement, not such a ‘new guy’ after all, and yet Ellie had never mentioned him.

      ‘This is my sister, Scarlett.’

      ‘Hi. I’m Aaron, Ellie’s wicked new neighbour,’ he said, eyes glinting mischievously. ‘Your sister thought I was a serial killer when we first met on the lane in the dark because my Transit has no windows.’

      ‘I wish I hadn’t told you that!’ Ellie burst out. ‘Anyway, I thought you were a kidnapper or a burglar, rather than a serial killer.’

      ‘Scarlett,’ Scarlett said, holding out her hand and laughing. ‘Ellie’s wicked younger sister. It’s my fault she thinks anyone with a van with no windows is a kidnapper. Just one of my little jokes,’ she added quickly in case Aaron thought she’d once been abducted herself.

      With a grin, he shook her hand firmly but briefly and sat down again. ‘To be fair, no one had told Ellie that I was moving into Cove Cottage. I only decided myself a couple of weeks before.’

      ‘Me too,’ Scarlett said.

      ‘Ellie did warn me you were moving down here.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘Brave.’

      ‘Really?’