A Good Catch: The perfect Cornish escape full of secrets. Fern Britton

heard Loveday thumping down the stairs before she pulled the front door open. She had teased her hair into a big, orange, candy-floss ball and was wearing a low-cut, sleeveless, fashionably ripped T-shirt, her pink bra partly on show. She was pulling at a fringed ra-ra skirt that was at least two sizes too small for her.

      ‘Ha!’ she crowed, taking in Greer’s tight white shorts, blue and white striped top and long, tanned legs. ‘I knew you wouldn’t wear jeans so I’ve pulled all the stops out. Hang on while I get my shoes.’

      Greer watched as Loveday bounded back up the stairs, her ra-ra skirt lifting with every step and exposing tiny black knickers stretched over her generous bottom.

      ‘Wait till you see these,’ Loveday called from upstairs, ‘They arrived from the catalogue this morning.’

      A few seconds later and Loveday came down the stairs, with as much grace as a jolly pig in electric blue stilettos, gripping the banisters for balance.

      ‘What do you think to these beauties?’ She bounced off the last stair and posed like a stripper.

      Greer couldn’t help but smile. ‘They are very eye-catching.’

      Loveday looked at Greer’s flat ballet pumps with sympathy. ‘A word to the wise. You’ll never pull Mickey in those.’

      Down on the quay, the warm evening sunshine had brought out the couples with pushchairs and people with dogs. The holiday-makers wouldn’t be down in force for another six weeks so at the moment Trevay still belonged to its locals. The tide was out and the inner harbour was littered with boats lying on their keels, green fronds of seaweed hanging from their mooring ropes.

      Greer couldn’t help but always remember the first time she saw Jesse down here when they were both so young. His skinny brown legs hanging from his shorts and his blond hair falling over his eyes. Now he was a man. Six foot four, broad and muscular. Greer’s feelings for him had intensified over the years. She dreamt about him, he lit up her life when she was with him, but he treated her like a sister. Greer his friend. Not Greer his girlfriend.

      Sometimes she wondered whether he had feelings for Loveday. He certainly seemed to enjoy her company, and she knew that Loveday had a crush on him. But he always seemed careful not to encourage her, from what Greer could see. Anyway, how could he fancy someone as chaotic as Loveday? No. Jesse couldn’t fancy Loveday, he probably just felt sorry for her. Mickey fancied Loveday and, one day, Greer hoped, he’d land her. Loveday would be a fool not to go for Mickey. And one day, Jesse would see that Greer was the woman for him.

      Loveday jolted Greer from her musings. ‘There they are!’ She pointed at Jesse and Mickey, who were strolling about a hundred yards ahead with fishing rods over their shoulders. ‘Jesse! Mickey!’ she shouted. ‘Come and give us a hand with this.’ She hefted the weighty picnic basket, which Greer had asked her to carry, from one hand to the other, then waved extravagantly to the boys. Mickey, of course, came to help Loveday. His lanky frame, dark hair and sweet face with its slightly large nose and eyes that drooped at the corners a little, reminded Greer of a lovesick greyhound. As soon as Loveday had loaded him up with the picnic basket, she raced off to walk beside Jesse.

      At that moment, Greer felt enormous compassion for Mickey. ‘Here. Let me help.’ She took his fishing rod and put it across her left shoulder, then looped her right arm through Mickey’s free one and walked with him.

      ‘Don’t worry about Loveday. I know how you feel about her. She’ll see sense one day,’ she told him.

      Mickey blushed and quickly brushed her off. ‘Loveday’s all right but I’m playing the field.’

      Greer raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. ‘Are you, Mickey?’

      ‘Sure. I’m a fisherman and there’s plenty more fish in the sea.’

      ‘Oh, Mickey,’ Greer laughed, ‘you’re fooling no one.’ Mickey looked at her ruefully but then laughed too.

      Loveday looked back over her shoulder and saw Greer and Mickey walking arm in arm. Heads together and laughing.

      ‘Jesse, look, I knew it. Mickey and Greer are a match made in heaven.’

      Jesse turned to look too, but said nothing. He was trying not to think about the lace bra that was showing through Loveday’s T-shirt, which was only serving to accentuate her generous cleavage, while also trying to keep in check the dangerous sensations that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he was in close proximity to Loveday Carter.

      *

      Our Mermaid was a good-sized trawler painted in the traditional local colours of sky blue, chalk white and clotted cream yellow. The hull had streaks of rust coming from the holes where the anchor chain fed, but she was in good condition and well maintained. She was tied up alongside the deepest part of the harbour wall where the boys hoped to fish from.

      ‘Hey, Dad,’ called Mickey as they approached.

      An older version of Mickey was standing on the foredeck drinking a mug of tea. ‘’Ello, son! Where the ’ell ’ave you bin? You’re too late to help me. I’m all finished.’

      ‘Sorry, Dad.’

      Mr Chandler put down his mug and helped Loveday onto the boat. ‘Thank you, Mr Chandler.’

      ‘’Tis all right, maid.’ Alfie Chandler was very fond of Loveday. She was warm, down to earth and undeniably sexy. A girl he’d be happy to call daughter-in-law. He hoped that Mickey would make his move before someone else came on the scene; there were many young lads who would bite their own arms off to get close to Loveday – he certainly would’ve done at Mickey’s age.

      ‘Hello, Mr Chandler.’ Greer was holding out her hand to him. ‘Would you help me aboard?’

      ‘Certainly.’ Alfie offered her his grimy and calloused hand. He couldn’t deny that she was a looker, but she was too bony and prim for his taste. Poor Jesse Behenna. He was caught in a net, whether he knew it or not. Bryn Clovelly and Ed Behenna would make sure of that.

      Alfie leant into the wheelhouse and put his mug on a wooden ledge. ‘Right, you young ’uns. Tide’s flooding in now and you should get some good mackerel off the side.’

      ‘Cheers, Dad.’ Mickey gave him a short embrace.

      ‘Don’t be home too late or your ma will be worried.’

      ‘We won’t.’

      Alfie stepped off the boat. Without a backward glance he walked off along the harbour wall that led straight to the Golden Hind and its welcoming bar.

      ‘What you got in the picnic basket, Loveday?’ asked Mickey, rubbing his hands.

      ‘You’re always hungry!’ Loveday swatted him away. ‘How do you stay so skinny?’

      Greer and Loveday unpacked a checked tablecloth that Elizabeth had thoughtfully put in, and placed the Tupperware boxes of crab, potato salad and tomatoes on the cloth.

      Jesse pulled out of his fishing bag four pasties and six tins of cider; certain proof that Donna from the Spar shop might be two years older than Jesse but that she definitely fancied him rotten.

      After they’d eaten (Greer had picked at the salad and declined her pasty so Loveday had had it instead), the boys set up their fishing rods. The sun slowly dropped towards the horizon and gave a final fiery blaze before sinking into the sea. Greer, who was watching Jesse bait the large hook on his line, shivered at the sudden chill. He looked up.

      ‘You cold, Greer?’

      ‘I am a bit.’

      ‘Come here.’ Amiably, he opened an arm up to her and she tentatively let him put it around her. She was enclosed between his arms as he held the fishing rod. She could feel his chest moving in and out as he breathed. Conversely, she held her breath, in fear of actually touching him more closely.

      A tug on the line disturbed the moment and he lifted