Summer on the Little Cornish Isles: The Starfish Studio. Phillipa Ashley

if we possibly could,’ she said and took a deep breath. Now was the ideal opportunity to tell him about Dan, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say the words. It had been a month ago and she should be used to it by now. This was her new life, where she could start all over again, with no one even thinking of her as part of a couple. Go on, say it, she told herself, tell him … but Jake was speaking.

      ‘Yes. I do remember …’

      By the pained look on his face, she thought he didn’t seem that pleased at being reminded of their encounter. In contrast, Poppy’s recollection of Jake was way more positive.

      He was still as striking – more so in fact – with those dark expressive eyes that seemed to hold as much back as they showed. She recalled the way, even back then, his expression had changed from intense to amused within seconds, but there was something different about him. It wasn’t so much the barely visible silver threads in his hair or the faint lines on his temple, but the hunched way he stood with his hands deep in his pockets. Something had sucked the life out of Jake Pendower or dimmed his light.

      ‘I’m sorry, I hadn’t connected you with the new tenants.’

      He lingered on the quayside, seemingly unsure what to do next. She was the stranger, yet Jake appeared to want her to take the next step.

      ‘I heard from the boatman that your grandfather was poorly.’

      ‘From Winston?’ Jake said, nodding at the boatman who was a few feet away on the quayside, loading steel beer kegs from a trailer into the back of the boat.

      ‘Yes, but I don’t know the details. I’m sorry to hear he’s ill,’ Poppy said carefully, unsure as to how serious Archie’s condition actually was.

      ‘He had a fall a couple of weeks ago, but he’s on the mend now. That’s why you’ve got me … I’m looking after the handover while he convalesces at my parents’ place in Perranporth. We should have warned you, but I’ve been working away and Grandpa hasn’t been up to dealing with stuff.’

      ‘It’s OK. As long as someone’s here to show me the ropes. My circumstances have also changed a bit.’ She bit the bullet. ‘You’ve probably noticed that I’m on my own …’

      ‘I did wonder when you got off the boat alone,’ he said in a softer tone.

      She steeled herself. ‘The thing is that Dan and I have gone our separate ways. Quite recently, actually, and I probably should have told your grandfather and the agent, but there never seemed a good moment.’ She hesitated as he listened, holding her gaze with his intense one. ‘It’s not easy explaining to people that you’re not part of a couple any more.’

      He pressed his lips together, then spoke quietly. ‘I do understand … more than you know.’

      Poppy winced inwardly, guessing that Jake was alluding to Harriet’s death. She waited for him to say more, but instead he summoned up an awkward smile.

      ‘Well, maybe it’s easier that I only have to explain the other piece of news to one person, rather than two. You see, some other things have changed since you were last here. I’m afraid the Starfish Studio might not be quite the way you remember it.’

      This sounded so ominous that she didn’t know how to reply. Jake must have seen her panicked expression.

      ‘Don’t worry. The building’s still standing. Everything’s in working order, but I only arrived yesterday and the place hasn’t been aired since Grandpa left it. It hasn’t been open much over the winter and spring and he must have been using it to sort out and store some of his work, but I’ve shifted that and started to get some fresh air flowing. The damp climate had affected the atmosphere …’

      She had that sinking feeling again, but the last thing she wanted was for Jake or anyone to think she was a clichéd urban snowflake. ‘Don’t worry. I thought the studio might not be exactly the same as I imagined it. I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

      ‘I just wanted to warn you before you stepped over the threshold. I’ll be around for a little while yet, so I can help you … if you want me to, seeing as you’re on your own.’

      ‘Thank you, but I don’t need any favours,’ she replied.

      He flinched. ‘Of course not. I’ll keep away, of course, if that’s what you want.’

      She cringed. She hadn’t meant to be rude, but his words had reminded her of Dan’s sneering contempt when she said she was going ahead with their plans alone – yet Jake hadn’t been laughing at her. Damn, why was she still so edgy? ‘I’m still getting used to taking this step on my own,’ she said quickly. ‘Or taking it at all. I’m happy to accept all the help and advice I’m offered.’

      Jake shrugged and she realised the damage had been done already. ‘It’s OK, and anyway, as I said, I’ll be out of your hair soon, but Fen and the agent will be on hand to answer any questions. She’s Grandpa’s friend.’

      ‘I think I might have met her too, on the day we visited the studio. Crinkly hair and colourful clothes? In her mid-seventies?’

      ‘That would have been her, though she’s almost eighty now.’

      They heard a clang behind them. The boatman had hoisted a beer keg off the boat and into the quay. There was a toot and a couple of passengers climbed on board.

      Poppy glanced round and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh God. I’ve only just realised. Has my stuff arrived? It was loaded onto the Islander in a packing crate.’

      Jake frowned. ‘Not as far as I know. Did the Islander crew say they’d send it on here? They should have done and they’re normally very efficient, although nothing has been delivered to the studio yet.’

      ‘They told me everything would be brought over when I boarded and I asked again before I got off the boat and they seemed to think I was worrying over nothing. They said the St Piran’s freight boat would bring it, but I don’t think the ferry has any space for cargo?’

      ‘Not much, though they will take things to and from St Mary’s if they have space. Like the beer kegs to and from the pub … We have to get our priorities right, don’t we, Winston?’ Jake called to the boatman.

      With a grin, Winston walked over. He was about fifty with a pot belly, thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a gold earring.

      ‘Can’t have the pub running dry, can we?’ Jake said. ‘You’ve already met Poppy McGregor, haven’t you? She’s going to be running the studio.’

      ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Winston, shaking Poppy’s hand. ‘Again.’

      ‘You too.’ Poppy smiled.

      ‘Poppy was asking after her stuff. Do you know when the Herald will be here with the freight? I’m out of the loop where timing’s concerned?’ said Jake.

      ‘I was told it would be here by now …’ said Poppy, crossing her fingers and wondering how she was going to get to grips with the names, functions and schedules – or lack of them – of all the different inter-island boats and ferries. There appeared to be dozens of them, all with their own mysterious routes and purposes.

      Winston gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘I hate to bring bad news, but I’ve just heard on the radio that the Herald has engine trouble. She’s under repair in St Mary’s and nothing major is getting across to St Piran’s from the harbour today.’

      ‘Oh. Oh f—’ Poppy resisted the urge to swear and say that if there had been room for half a dozen beer kegs, why couldn’t her crate have been squeezed onto the passenger ferry.

      ‘When do you think the Herald will be operating again?’ Jake asked.

      Winston shrugged. ‘Her skipper was trying to make arrangements for another boat to bring the freight over. It might be this evening or it could be tomorrow.’

      Poppy