‘Don’t you? I do.’ Holly laughed too, much to her surprise, her defences seeming to lower around Tristan all too easily. It should probably have felt awkward or uncomfortable when she realised what she’d just confessed, but it didn’t. ‘That’s why I got Merlin, really. So I can pretend I’m talking to him and not myself, but I’ve done it ever since I was a kid. My mum used to say I narrated my whole life out loud. It’s probably why I ended up making videos of myself waffling on, so it felt like I was talking to someone else and not just myself. Even Merlin usually opens one eye when I start, then shuts it and starts snoring again.’
She gestured towards the coal-black dog, who was stretched out on the end of her bed snoring without a care in the world. Some guard dog he’d make. He’d hadn’t even woken up when she’d opened the door to Tristan; their early morning walk through the woods and down to the coastal path having taken it out of him. He wasn’t getting any younger, bless him.
‘Well, a lot of people are really glad you talk into a video camera these days. I was reading some of the comments under one of your posts and there are lots of people who say that watching your videos has got them through a really bad time in their lives.’
‘That always seems crazy to me.’ It was Holly’s turn to shake her head. It was unbelievable that she could make that kind of difference to the lives of people she’d never met, and it more than made up for the not-so-nice comments, and the people whodidn’t seem to realise that just because she spoke about aspects of her life online, she still wanted to maintain some level of privacy and boundaries. ‘I suppose it’s just because loneliness can be really tough, can’t it? And being able to access videos online, where it feels like the person behind the camera is talking to you, as though they’re your friend, can help in those kinds of situations, I guess.’
Holly wondered if it was obvious that she was speaking from experience. She’d managed to stop her voice from cracking, but the memory of the year or so before she’d got Merlin, when she had been at her lowest point, was all too easy to conjure up. She’d left Scotland and Gray and Janey behind by then, feeling as though she needed to strike out on her own before she became too reliant on them. Except she’d realised almost as soon as she left that it was already too late, they’d become the sticking plaster that stopped her missing her own family so much. She could just have gone back to stay with them, but she couldn’t be the third wheel in their lives forever. She had to make a life of her own, something that was entirely hers. The trouble was, she’d been so lonely back then and so lacking in any kind of direction that it had been impossible to believe she’d ever have a purpose again. Merlin had given her a reason to get up each day; take him for a walk, go out and buy his food, and those had been the first steps towards pulling herself out from the dark pit of despair she’d found herself in. Although in truth she hadn’t justfoundherself in that pit, she’d put herself there through the choices she’d made. That was something she couldn’t allow herself to dwell upon, even now.
‘It clearly makes a real difference and not everyone can say they do that. It’s lucky there are people like you around who can connect with others in that way.’ There was that smile of Tristan’s again, the one that made it hard to stop staring at his mouth, butshe had to. She definitely didn’t need any complications on this trip, and, despite Tristan’s offer, she wouldn’t be staying here long. The pull back to Cornwall had been growing stronger than ever recently and she’d needed to come here to scratch that itch, but she couldn’t hang around. Especially not in Port Agnes. If she was honest with herself, it had been stupid and selfish to come in the first place. She’d stay just long enough to get the footage she needed and to do justice to the review she was posting online and then she’d move on. The trouble was, she’d been telling herself that for days already and yet somehow, she was still here.
‘I get to travel around and make a living out of it. I’d say that makes me the lucky one.’ Holly trotted out the well-practised line, and she really was lucky in so many ways. Yet there was still an aching void that no number of online followers was ever going to fill.
‘That’s why I wondered if you wanted to come down into Port Agnes with me? To takes some photos or make some videos?’ Tristan looked suddenly uncertain, pausing for a beat before he continued. ‘You’d never get the van down near the harbour, some of the streets aren’t even wide enough for cars, let alone anything bigger. I just thought maybe I could point you in the direction of a few points of local interest. You can even bring Merlin if you like. Most of the shops and cafes are dog-friendly, and I usually take my Jack Russell, Casper, down with me, but he’s already had a long run this morning and he made it pretty clear he’d rather stay at home on the sofa. Don’t worry though, I won’t tag along with you and Merlin once you’ve got your bearings.’
He laughed again and she felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. Holly knew she should turn down his offer, but she wanted to get a picture of Port Agnes through someone else’s eyes. It always helped enrich her content to get that kind ofperspective, but never more so than here. She just couldn’t admit to Tristan the real reason why that was so important.
‘That would be great. It’s always brilliant to get a local’s perspective and I’m certain there are some hidden gems you can point out to me that I’d never find on my own. That’s if you’re sure you can spare the time?’
‘Of course, and even if the campsite hasn’t made you fall in love with the area yet, the village will work its magic. It always does.’ Tristan smiled again and she tried to mirror his expression, but her mouth wouldn’t seem to comply. Going into Port Agnes was a big risk. One she’d avoided since she’d arrived, but she could hardly make a video bestowing the virtues of the campsite without making some content about the local area. She just had to hope that enough time had passed for her to fly under the radar in the village where she’d grown up.
Holly had decided to leave Merlin back in the camper. Her beautiful boy was getting on a bit now, his sleek shiny black coat peppered with more and more white hairs in recent months and a slight stiffness was starting to develop in his gait when he first started walking each morning. It would usually ease off over time, but his recovery from their walks took longer these days and he’d be quite happy stretched out on the bed. It was only April and there was no chance of him getting too hot in the van while she was out, but she left the sky light open anyway. Merlin would probably still be snoring when she got back and he gave her a good excuse not to have to stay out too long if she got down into Port Agnes with Tristan and suddenly realised she couldn’t keep the low profile she needed to maintain, or if the memories of theway her life had imploded last time she was here got too much for her.
Even after all this time she was pretty certain she’d have been able to navigate her way around Port Agnes with a blindfold on. She’d walked the narrow streets that wound their way down to the harbour countless times and she’d pictured the place every day since she’d left, wondering what had changed and where time had stood still. The latter turned out to be true for almost all of it. There were one or two shops she didn’t recognise and several new restaurants they passed on the walk down, but the shops and houses flanking the harbour itself were almost entirely as she remembered them and to her surprise the realisation made her throat start to burn with emotion. She could so easily have started to sob there and then, releasing all of the pain and the longing she felt at being back in this place that she hadn’t even allowed herself to acknowledge. But there’d be no explaining away a reaction like that to Tristan. He’d want to know what on earth could have triggered that kind of response and there was no way she could tell him. So she shook it off and put on the same bright voice she used to make her upbeat videos, even on the days when she just wanted to get back into bed and pull the duvet over her head.
‘Wow. I’d heard Port Agnes was beautiful, but this is even more beautiful than I expected.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie. Shehadheard those things about Port Agnes from commenters on her social media platforms who said it really was about time she took the van to Cornwall, often insisting that Port Agnes and its neighbours Port Kara and Port Tremellien should be top of her list when she did. And itwasmore beautiful than she’d expected, because she’d anticipated changes that weren’t positive, or that the reality of seeing the place where she’d grown up wouldn’t live up to her memories. Neither of those things had turned out to bethe case and she’d never felt more homesick for Port Agnes than she did right now, standing in the heart of it.
‘I moved here from another part of Cornwall when I inherited the farm with my cousin, Matt. It’s a pretty amazing place to call home, although it can get a bit busy in the summer months because the whole world seems to want to visit.’ Tristan breathed out slowly. ‘Still, I won’t be complaining if it means the campsite is full every night, and at least we haven’t had a TV series filmed here yet. You can’t move forDoc Martinfans in Port Isaac during the summer, and now they’re talking about Port Kara being used for the new ITV series about lifeboats. It’s already got more big-name celebrities with second homes than Padstow, I reckon. The council will have to ban cars from going into the village altogether if it gets as busy as Port Isaac, and someone will open one of those massive car parks on some farmland and charge people twenty quid a day to park there. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I should start petitioning for them to use Port Agnes instead!’
Tristan laughed and Holly knew he was only joking, but she couldn’t stop herself from shaking her head anyway. ‘I hope they don’t use any of the villages around here for a TV series, it would change things too much. Everyone would think they knew what Port Agnes or Port Kara was like, but they wouldn’t have a clue about the reality.’
‘You sound like one of the locals already and you certainly seem to share their views.’ Tristan tilted his head slightly to the side and gave her an appraising stare. ‘Are you sure you haven’t been here before?’
Holly turned away for a moment, faking a cough to give herself time to think, and not wanting to give away how frustrated she was with herself for revealing more than she’d intended. The last thing she wanted was for Tristan to realise that strictlyspeaking she was a local, because that would undoubtedly lead to questions she wasn’t ready to respond to, and answers that would almost certainly make him run in the other direction, and she didn’t want that either. It was hard to admit, even to herself, just how much she was enjoying his company. She’d been determined to keep it in check, because Tristan was the last person she should be allowing herself to feel any connection to. She was the proverbial rolling stone, determined to gather no moss, because that was how you ended up getting hurt. Even if that hadn’t been her mantra, Tristan would have been off limits, and yet here she was, enjoying talking to him and wanting it to continue, despite the fact she’d almost let her carefully curated mask slip straight away. Arranging her face in what she hoped was a neutral expression and pretending to clear her throat, she turned back towards him, her composure restored and the mask firmly back in place.
‘I think it’s a pretty common complaint if you live somewhere that suddenly becomes famous.’ Holly couldn’t bring herself to lie outright to Tristan, because she liked him too much, but she needed to change the subject. ‘Somewhere I’ve already heard a lot about is Mehenick’s Bakery.’
The smell of warm bread had wafted on the breeze as they approached the harbour. Now that they were getting closer, she could pick up other scents of sweet pastries and hearty pasties mingling in the air, making her stomach rumble in a way that not even the screeching of seagulls overhead could drown out.
‘I think we’d better pay a visit before you keel over from starvation!’ Tristan grinned and Holly was surprised to realise that she wasn’t remotely embarrassed. He had a way of putting her at ease that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, which was nothing short of a miracle considering where they were, and how long she’d both dreaded and anticipated this moment in equal measure. Could she risk stepping inside Mehenick’s Bakery,though? She felt like a completely different person to the one who’d last walked these streets, but had she changed enough to go unrecognised? Her hair was much darker now and she was sixteen years older, but she still had no idea if that would make her unrecognisable to the people she used to know. Pushing the sunglasses that had been holding her hair back from her face back down to cover her eyes, she turned to Tristan and nodded.
‘Perhaps we better had, before I bite a lump out of your arm.’
He laughed in response. ‘It wouldn’t be a patch on a Mehenick’s pasty, I can promise you that.’
‘Would that make me the world’s biggest cliché, visiting Cornwall and ordering a pasty as though I think that’s what you live on down here?’ She raised her eyebrows, remembering how much the stereotypes of the West Country used to annoy her as a kid. Her beloved home county was so much more diverse than any visitor could ever appreciate, and it was one of the reasons why she’d finally decided to come back. She wanted to be able to talk about all the things it had to offer, not just cream teas, fishing villages and pasties. She’d always loved the untamed wild of Bodmin Moor, which felt like an entirely different world, despite being less than ten miles from Port Agnes. Attempting to take the van there would be an adventure in itself, and she’d have to plan the route carefully, because there were plenty of roads in the area that Woody wouldn’t make it down. Just the thought of getting out into the wilds was like a wave of calm washing over her. Maybe that’s where she should head tomorrow. No one would recognise her there. It would just be her, Merlin and Woody. The way it had been for years now.
‘Eating pasties in Cornwall may well be a cliché, but once you’ve tasted the ones from Mehenick’s you’ll want to come back and visit all the time.’ Tristan paused for a moment. ‘At least I hope so.’
Holly wanted to say that she hoped so too and to tell Tristan that hanging out with him felt like the most human connection she’d had in a very long time, but it would have sounded ridiculous and probably quite sad. It was easier to pretend she hadn’t noticed the sincerity of his comment. ‘I’ll go in and order us a couple of pasties then, my treat.’
‘No, I’ll get?—’
She cut him off before he could finish. ‘It’s the least I can do for you showing me around like this. Have you got any particular recommendations for which flavour I should try?’
‘It’s got to be the rump steak one, it’s got potatoes, onions and swede, and whatever else it is that Jago and Ruth put in it to work their magic, before wrapping it all in the most buttery, crispy and flakiest pastry you’ll ever taste. Now my stomach’s rumbling too.’
‘I can hear it!’ She glanced over to the benches at the side of the harbour, relieved to see there was one free. ‘Do you want to grab that bench while I go in and order.’
