Now, just over thirty years later, Bex had finally realised one of those ambitions. She was opening her own shop, of sorts. It was probably a bit generous to call it that, because for now the building where it was housed, a conversion of one end of a storage barn, was serving as an office, reception area and micro-shop for the new campsite. She had a desk next to a rack of local interest leaflets. There was a shelving unit of essential basics including bread, cereal and sweets and a large glass-fronted fridge with milk, butter, cheese and bacon, and finally, a small glass-topped deep freeze, full of lollies and ice cream. Outside there were gas bottles and bags of chopped wood for purchase, as well as fire pits for hire. Behind the desk there were matches and firelighters, paracetamol and plasters, and a few other camping and first aid essentials. It was small and unassuming, and Bex loved everything about it.
‘I can’t believe you’ve pulled all of this together.’ Matt smiled as she finished giving him the ‘grand tour’. His dark brown eyes crinkled in the corners and she didn’t even try to resist the sudden urge she had to kiss her husband of over fifteen years.
‘I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for believing in me enough to plough all of our savings into making this happen.’ She took hold of his face in her hands and kissed him. ‘I really love you. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Well you have told me a few thousand times, but I never get bored of hearing it. Although the kissing does help with convincing me it’s not all just talk. So if you want to do it again, I’m not complaining.’ His smile broadened and she shrugged, trying to act casual. But the truth was, the sight of Matt, in his work overalls, his hair messed up from a day of working on the farm, and a grazing of stubble on his chin still did it for Bex, so she didn’t need asking twice. Pressing her mouth against his, sheslipped her arms around his neck and her body into his, enjoying the moment until a voice broke the spell.
‘Oh God, that is so disgusting. Can you stop.Please.’ It was Henry, and when Bex broke away from Matt and turned to look at their eldest son, she couldn’t help laughing.
‘Sorry, darling. I know you think it’s gross that I still love your dad, but it could be worse, we could be divorced.’ Bex laughed again at the look that crossed Henry’s face.
‘Worse?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘Jonny’s parents are divorced and he gets two really brilliant summer holidays every year, because they try to outdo each other, and go to really cool places too. What do I get? To help out on the farm.’
‘I know, it’s terrible, and all those calls you made to Childline came to nothing too.’ Matt shook his head slowly, but then he grinned again, a dimple appearing on one side of his mouth. It had been that dimple that had made Bex fall for him. For some reason she could never rationalise, the lack of symmetry had made him feel more real and more trustworthy; someone she could let her guard down with after what Liam and Briony had done. It was also just one of the things that made him incredibly easy on the eye. In the weeks that had followed Liam’s betrayal, she had veered between saying she would never, ever, not-in-a-million-years get involved with another man again, to thinking that perhaps she would, but only with someone she knew for certain would never stray. She’d got it into her head that she could never date someone who was conventionally attractive. It would give them far too many opportunities to cheat on her.
That’s how damaged she’d been when she’d met Matt; so messed up she’d thought there was a way of safeguarding herself against ever getting hurt again. It had been a stupid idea, but when they’d met at the Three Ports Country Fair, where he’d been taking part in the ploughing match with a group of otheryoung farmers, she’d told herself that Matt was definitely the sort of man she should be steering clear of. Well over six feet tall with an artfully messy mop of dark brown hair, and somehow managing to make a checked shirt look like the best thing anyone had ever worn, she knew she should keep walking when he stopped her after the ploughing match to make a fuss of her parents’ Labrador, who she’d brought along to the dog show. But for some reason she didn’t.
‘What’s her name? She’s beautiful.’ His voice was so warm and, when he knelt down to make a fuss of the dog, the Labrador had instantly recognised him as one of the good guys.
‘Honey.’ She’d shaken her head, feeling suddenly embarrassed about the name her parents had chosen. ‘I know it’s not very original for a yellow lab, but she’s a lot more golden than most of them and it just seemed to suit her.’
‘Honey is a great name and it reminds me of a terrible Christmas cracker joke that I’ve never forgotten.’ He’d smiled more deeply then, and it had been the first moment that Bex had spotted his dimple, which was probably why she’d found herself asking the obvious question.
‘I already think I might regret this, but go on then, what was the joke?’
‘What do bees use to style their hair?’ Matt had already looked like he was trying not to laugh.
‘I don’t know, what do bees use to style their hair?’
‘Honey combs!’ For a second or two they’d just looked at each other and then she’d started to laugh and so had he. His laugh was a thousand times better than the joke, and she’d thought in that moment that it was a sound she’d never get bored of hearing. She’d been right. Bex had taken a chance on Matt, and he’d turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to her. These days he specialised in dad jokes, and the honey comb one wouldprobably have been top tier compared to some of the groans his other jokes evoked, especially amongst their three boys. But Matt always brought the laughter, and he was always 100 percent on her side too. When she’d said she wanted to start the campsite business but didn’t think she could, he’d told her she was wrong and listed all the things she’d made a success of in the past thatprovedshe could do this too. He believed in her, even when she didn’t believe in herself, so it hadn’t been a lie to say none of this would have happened without him, and he’d given her the greatest gift imaginable in their three boys. The eldest of whom was still trying to make a case for how downtrodden he was.
‘Yeah, well I haven’t given up on Childline yet.’ Henry’s attempt at sounding hard done by was starting to slip and Bex could see the corners of his mouth twitching too. ‘Depending on what it is I’m supposed to be helping out with this time, I might just be putting in another call.’
‘We’ve got top dressing to do, if you fancy driving the tractor?’ Matt had said the magic words and the expression on Henry’s face had completely transformed. Now that he was thirteen, he was legally allowed to operate a tractor on the farm under close supervision from his dad, and it was just about his favourite thing in the world to do. So even before Matt outlined the alternative, Bex knew what her son’s answer was going to be. ‘Or you can always help with the slurry.’
‘Well, it’s a hard choice…’ Henry rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. ‘But top dressing it is.’
‘So no call to Childline just yet then?’ Bex looked at her son who shrugged.
‘Nah, I’ll hold off for now, but just because you promised me if the campsite works out, we’ll finally get to go snowboarding next winter.’
‘Absolutely. I do get that summer holidays have always been abit of a disappointment, but that’s life on the farm. A winter trip will be great for all of us, and you know I never go back on a promise.’
‘Yeah, especially when it involves turning off the Wi-Fi.’ Henry grimaced.
‘I did warn you that if the glasses didn’t get returned to the kitchen there’d be consequences, and when I had to drink my orange juice out of a milk jug, because you and your brothers never bring the glasses back down from your rooms, it was time. I swear one of you is going to win the Nobel prize for the science experiments you do up there, growing mould on the dregs of your milkshakes.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know you always keep your promises.’ Henry walked towards them both, his tone good-natured now. ‘And I suppose you’re not the worst parents in the world.’
‘High praise indeed.’ Matt grinned again, exchanging a look with Bex.
‘Group hug?’ She asked with more hope than expectation, and Henry let out a long sigh.
‘God, the things I have to do to get the chance to go snowboarding.’ Despite his half-hearted protest, Henry allowed himself to be folded into a hug between his parents. It was just one more everyday moment that Bex felt incredibly lucky to experience. Her life was just the way it should be, and there wasn’t a single part of it she wanted to change.
The wordMordrostranslated to the sound of the sea, and it was no wonder the farm Matt and Tristan had inherited from their unmarried uncle, when he’d died at the age of just forty, had been given that name. There were a couple of high patches ofland on the farm where there were distant glimpses of the sea, but when the wind was travelling in the right direction, and the weather was making the waves crash against the cliff face, it really was possible to hear the sound of the sea from almost anywhere on the farm. Bex had considered giving the campsite a cuter name like Bayview Camping, or Blue Sky Camping, but in the end she’d decided to keep it the same as the farm, and she felt a shiver of nervous excitement every time she saw the sign bearing the name: Mordros Farm Campsite. Maybe it didn’t sound all that enticing initially, but she’d ensured that the website made the origin clear, because the proper Cornish name undoubtedly had a romance all of its own.
This part of Cornwall was her home and her roots felt as deeply entrenched as those of the ancient beech tree sited at the entrance to the farm, which local legend said was over three hundred years old. Matt had grown up in a hamlet a few miles inland, between Looe and Polperro, on the south coast of the county, where his parents were tenant farmers on an eighty-acre dairy farm. Matt’s Uncle Jory had inherited a mixed arable and sheep farm from his own parents, which extended to just over two hundred acres. Farming was in Matt’s blood, and in Tristan’s, and they seemed to work together seamlessly, without any of the usual rivalry that siblings might have. Tristan had been the one to suggest that Matt take the main farmhouse when they’d taken over the farm, just a year before Matt had met Bex, and they’d worked together to convert a former grain store into a home for Tristan, who now lived in the wonderfully quirky home, with round rooms, on the opposite side of the farm to Matt’s family. The new campsite also divided their properties, which meant they had plenty of privacy when they wanted it.
