Reach for the Stars: A feel good, uplifting romantic comedy. Kathy Jay

hadn’t gotten out there – yet – but it was in his shattered heart. He couldn’t stop himself looking back into the past without the foggiest idea what to do about it. But if pliers to cut the padlock would free Layla from the memory of a relationship gone bad, then at least he could fix that.

      ‘I said I’d make myself useful, didn’t I?’

      ‘It can wait. Honestly.’

      Nick pointed at the padlock. ‘Your past stops there. Exes! Who needs them?’ He wanted her to feel better but he was at a loss when it came to a broken heart.

      ‘For someone who doesn’t need exes, you’ve got enough of them. Allegedly!’

      Despite the obvious humour in her tone, the remark stung. It hit a nerve. He didn’t usually care about the truth. But lately the blurriness of ten years’ worth of indeterminate relationship status had swum into sharp focus. He snorted. ‘So I should know, right? You go on home. I’ll see you back there.’

      Intensely wound up, he marched down the lane like he was going into battle.

       Chapter Five

      Layla arrived back at the cottages to discover that her dad had at last turned up to take a look at the broken immersion heater that supplied Maggie’s shower with hot water. He’d squeezed his white van into the parking space next to Nick’s flash sports car. Sporting a hi-vis orange vest over his white overalls, he leant against the van, arms folded across his chest.

      ‘Hi Dad.’

      He threw a not unimpressed look at Nick’s hire car. ‘I gather you’ve got company. Don’t take any nonsense from him. Maggie got the nice brother, or so I hear. That one’s nothing but trouble. I’m telling you. Caps lock style, TROUBLE. You watch yourself there.’

      Ignoring the embarrassing dad warning she looked him up and down. ‘Interesting look you’ve got going. Not unlike a giant traffic cone.’

      ‘Hey, less of the cheek, you.’ He performed a mock bow. ‘Mr Fix-It at your service. What kept you?’

      An irritated shiver ran down her spine. Concerned father patter and stabs at humour apart, they both knew they were on eggshells still. ‘What kept me? Where in the name of Cornish pixies have you been dressed like that?’

      ‘I’ve been up a ladder.’ He opened the van and took out his toolbox. ‘Clearing some blocked guttering at one of the holiday lets. I wanted to make sure everybody could see me. Didn’t want some plonker walking under the ladder and sending me flying.’

      ‘Nobody walks under ladders Dad. It’s bad luck.’

      ‘Bad luck for the poor so-and-so on the ladder.’

      ‘I haven’t seen you for days.’ A wince of embarrassment lanced her realizing that she could have asked her dad for help with the padlock instead of getting Nick involved. ‘You’re like the invisible man.’

      He pulled a face and she had to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement given his hi-vis get-up. ‘Well I’m here now.’ He threw a look at the bedraggled dog. ‘What’s she been playing at?’

      ‘Rolled in a puddle.’ She closed the gate to stop Ophelia from escaping and running off, and pulled a bunch of keys out of her pocket. Fidgeting more than necessary over fitting the right key in the lock she opened up. As she burst through the door, avoiding her father’s concerned look, she bent down and scooped up the handful of junk mail from the doormat.

      ‘I popped by earlier and things were rather quiet.’

      ‘I was at the kiosk,’ she said, finally meeting his eyes, ‘keeping things ticking over for Mum.’

      ‘It’s high time the three of us sit down and take a look at all this. You’re working too many hours. It can’t be good for you.’

      Her parents had split their assets in the village fifty-fifty. They’d built up a portfolio of properties in the area running them as holiday lets. When her grandmother died they’d converted her lovely rambling old house into a boutique B&B. In the divorce settlement her dad got the cottages and her mum the house.

      That left the Kandy Shack. The beachside kiosk was a popular landmark and her dad was excessively proud of it. He’d bought land from an elderly fisherman, demolished the run-down boathouse on the plot and built the Shack. Her mum was attached to it too and they hadn’t been able to agree on who should keep it. Although it had started life as his idea, her mum had taken charge of the business, made a success of it.

      She suppressed a flicker of reaction sensing that what was really bothering him was not knowing how to broach the topic of Joe. Swiftly she changed the subject. ‘Come see.’ She closed the door to keep Ophelia in the tiny front garden. ‘I’m ready to start the mural. I’d appreciate your advice on which colour blue to go with.’

      Upstairs she opened a window and bobbed her head out to check on Ophelia while Ralph stared at the paint tester colours on the wall. ‘The lighter of the two,’ he said, ‘but you don’t need me to tell you that.’

      She smiled.

      ‘Listen. This business with Joe. It should have been you, Layla love. I don’t know what to say.’

      ‘There’s nothing to say. We’re finished. He’s with someone new.’

      ‘Still. You’re bound to be upset.’

      ‘Nope.’ She crossed her arms tightly. ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘Right.’ He nodded and opened his toolbox to take out a screwdriver. ‘I’ll see to that shower then.’

      A bundle of awkwardness and avoidance, she made to scuttle off. ‘I’ll be next door. Bathing the dog.’

      ‘Hang on a second. I need you to turn the power off at the mains.’

      Feeling fragile and determined not to let it show she went down to the cupboard under the stairs and flicked up the switch in the box in the cupboard under the stairs.’

      ‘Done,’ she called out. ‘See you later.’

      ‘Don’t go yet.’ Her dad’s head leaned over the bannisters and he shouted into the stairwell. ‘This won’t take a minute and there’s something I need to speak to you about.’

      ‘There’s really no point Dad. I told you. As far as me and Joe go the subject is closed.’ She groaned and plodded unwillingly back upstairs.

      ‘It’s not about that.’ He stuck his head in the airing cupboard and got busy unscrewing something. ‘The timing’s terrible. And Jasmine says we should leave it a few days. But I don’t want you hearing from someone else, so …’

      ‘Leave what?’

      He shuffled backwards out of the airing cupboard and stood up. ‘That thing’s as old as the hills. It’s completely knackered. I’m amazed it’s lasted this long to be honest. I’ll price up a new hot water tank for Maggie and you can run it by her. I won’t charge for labor, obviously.’

      ‘Hear what Dad?’

      All her life her dad had been busy with this and that. ‘Where’s Dad?’ she’d ask her mum when she was too little to understand much of anything. ‘He’s off gallivanting,’ she’d say, a euphemism for his womanizing. At some point, she wasn’t sure exactly when, she’d learned not to ask. Now he was here, talking about Joe when she didn’t want to, and he looked hassled and it felt like it would be best if he would just leave.

      ‘You haven’t heard already, have you?’

      ‘Blast it, no. What haven’t I heard?’ she demanded.

      He looked down at his feet. He dug his hands in his pockets and pulled them out