The Bonbon Girl. Linda Finlay

the few fishing boats bobbing in the bay, their nets cast wide. Thankfully it was too early in the year for the pilchards to arrive. She far preferred working the Lizardite, as the rock was known locally, to salting and pressing the silver fish that, whilst providing the necessary food and oil for lighting, tainted her hands and clothes.

      ‘Morning, maid. ’Tis a fine day for it.’ Colenso jumped as the West Country burr broke into her thoughts.

      ‘Good morning, Mr Carter, Mr Paul,’ she replied, stepping to one side to let the two fishermen pass carrying their gulley laden with nets and baskets. Dressed in their customary blue ganseys and flat caps, they eyed her quizzically.

      ‘Taking your young man something nice, I ’spect, this being a special day an’ all,’ the second man grinned, sniffing her basket appreciatively.

      ‘Really, Mr Paul, I’m not sure what you mean,’ she demurred, feeling her cheeks colouring. The two men gave her a knowing look.

      ‘Listen to ’em birds, maid,’ Mr Carter called. ‘They be choosing their mates too.’

      ‘Wish I were a youngster again. Give him a good run for his money for a beautiful maid like thee, I would.’ As their guffaws of laughter rang around the cove, Colenso felt her cheeks growing hotter.

      ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must get on,’ she muttered, hurrying on through the village and out the other side. Honestly, was nothing around here secret? She remembered Mammwynn saying you only had to sneeze at the top of the hill for someone to be enquiring after your health by the time you reached the bottom. Her hand strayed to the star-shaped necklace at her throat.

      ‘Heed what it tells yer, maid, ’tis never wrong,’ her grandmother had whispered, fixing her with that gimlet stare before her eyelids fluttered closed for the last time. Well, it hadn’t told her anything yet, she thought climbing the steep hill towards Ruan and skirting the ancient church dedicated to Saint Rumonus, nodding to villagers as she passed. Hearing the clock chime the half hour, she quickened her pace, her mind racing along with her steps. She and Kitto had been walking out for some months now and although he’d been loving and more attentive of late, he hadn’t mentioned taking things further.

      ‘Just needs a bit of encouragement.’ Mammwynn’s voice urged. Well hopefully today would give him that.

      Hurrying down through the wooded valley, she rounded the sweep of the cliff and saw a schooner anchored off shore waiting for the shallow draught barges to transfer their loads of stone. The sprawling works were set in the cove below and plumes of smoke curled their way upwards from the tall chimney adjoining the machine shop. Passing the mill and gurgling stream that drained most of the Goonhilly Downs, she began descending the steep track the horse-drawn wooden carts used to transport their blocks of quarried stone. Her ears were assaulted by the sound of saws, chisels and hammers mingling with the rumbling and splashing of the waterwheel. The clamour from the grinding and sanding of the stone got ever louder. Men shouted orders, though how they could be heard above the noise of the sea beating on the shingle was beyond her.

      Suddenly, at the blast of a hooter, the clanking of the machinery ground to a halt, workers downed their tools and the valley was filled with the blissful sound of silence. Ignoring the descending dust, men squatted on slabs of stone to eat their noon pieces, eyeing Colenso speculatively as she picked her way through the dirt and debris towards the workshop. However, before she reached it, Kitto appeared in the doorway. Dark-haired and handsome despite the dust covering his working clothes, Colenso’s heart quickened at the sight of him. When he spotted her, his face broke into a wide grin, and, heedless of the jeers and catcalls from the others, he ran over to join her.

      ‘Well, you’re a pretty sight to brighten a fellow’s working day,’ he greeted, wiping his hands on his apron.

      ‘I heard there were cuttings to be had,’ she told him, trying to keep a straight face.

      ‘And there’s me thinking you’d come just to see me,’ he sighed, shaking his head.

      ‘Actually, I’ve brought something special for your noon piece,’ she told him, unable to keep up the pretence.

      ‘Something special, Cali?’ he asked using his pet name for her. It meant ‘beautiful’, and that he should think of her that way still surprised her, for she had the same dark colouring as many others on The Lizard. However, her delight soon turned to despair for he’d clearly forgotten what day it was. ‘Come on, let’s find somewhere quieter to eat,’ he suggested, taking her arm and leading her towards the thicket, away from prying eyes.

      ‘If My Lady would care to take a seat,’ he said, sweeping aside a low branch and gesturing to a felled tree trunk. ‘Something’s smelling good,’ he added, looking hopefully at the basket on her lap as he squatted beside her.

      Colenso hesitated. Suppose he thought her gesture stupid? But he was waiting expectantly and lifting the cloth she passed him the pasty she’d so painstakingly decorated. He stared at it for a long moment then his lips curled into a grin.

      ‘You did this for me?’ he asked, tracing the pastry heart with his fingers. Then, unable to resist, he bit into the pastry and sighed. ‘Delicious and meat in it too?’

      ‘Well, I thought with today being … I mean …’ her voice trailed off uncertainly as she saw him quirk his brow questioningly. Yet he could no more keep a straight face than she. ‘I love it and I love you, Colenso Carne,’ he declared, reaching out and squeezing her hand. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m famished and you must be too so let’s share this before it gets cold.’ She started to refuse but it had been a long morning and she was hungry.

      The outside world receded as they ate in companionable silence, their eyes meeting then quickly drawing away again. Along with the fragrance of herbs, the air between them was filled with suppressed excitement.

      ‘My, that was good,’ he declared, wiping the last crumbs from his lips. ‘I shall be a lucky man coming home to … that is … I’ve been thinking it’s time …’ He thrust a package into her hands. ‘Look, I’m no good with fancy words but hopefully this will explain.’ He stared at her, brown eyes shining with emotion.

      Heart soaring, she smiled, running her fingers over his gift. It seemed they had been thinking along the same lines after all. But just as she began to unfold the wrapping, the hooter sounded. ‘Not now,’ Kitto groaned. ‘I’d better look sharp, the new manager started today. We’re turning pillars for a large shop up country and he’s ordered they be shipped out tonight. Goodness knows what time we’ll be working till. Sorry Cali, this isn’t the way I’d planned to do this,’ he shrugged, pointing to her present. ‘Can I see you tomorrow? After I’ve finished the Sunday chores for Mother. I know how your father likes a nap after his noontime meal so perhaps we could meet on the Todden? Talk about …’ Again, he gestured to the package before darting a quick peck on her cheek. Then, at a shout from one of the others, he turned on his heel and ran back to the workshop.

      Disappointment mingled with excited anticipation as she stared at the package in her hands. She was tempted to open it right away but knew if she didn’t collect the cuttings others would. Bending to retrieve her basket, she felt the point of the necklace stab her chest. Gazing ruefully down at her ample bosom, she sighed. Why couldn’t she have been born dainty like Mammwynn and Mamm?

      Lifting her skirts, she picked her way through the dirt and debris until she reached the factory office. She could hear her father shouting orders to other labourers further down the valley, but luckily could see no sign of him. However, as she left the building, her basket heavy with the cuttings, she again felt that stabbing in her chest. Looking up, she saw a man of middle years, stroking his moustache as he stared at her intently. Dressed in a dark suit, cravat at his neck and sporting a bowler hat, he stood apart from the others with their grime encrusted aprons and rough working clothes. But it was the look in his eyes that sent shivers slithering down her spine.

      ‘Might I enquire who you are, young lady?’ the man asked, lowering his glance until it was addressing her chest. His voice was brisker than the local dialect she was