‘Afraid not. It’s a small island and Clemmie’s a good friend; she gives me all the bakery gossip. Normally I get first pick of whatever treats are left at the end of the day, but I hear she donated them to you.’
‘Guilty,’ Pippa said, lifting her cup. ‘And very grateful as I didn’t get to taste a single morsel of my wedding buffet or cake, and if I’m completely honest…’ She leaned in conspiratorially, cheeks warming despite the cold. ‘I’m secretly hoping the causeway closes so I can hide on this beautiful island a little longer.’
Becca grinned. ‘You and half the visitors. With this rain it’s most likely going to happen.’ She looked up at the sky. ‘It will be too dangerous to cross. Luckily, we have enough hot chocolate to see us through.’
‘I can imagine this place in all seasons.’
‘It’s beautiful whatever time of year it is.’
‘I’m sure. I know I’m only here for the convention, but if I had the chance to stay longer. I think this place would be good for me.’
‘This place is perfect for new beginnings and focusing on what’s next.’
Pippa grinned. ‘I live in hope!’
She paid for the hot chocolate and took a seat at a small table tucked beneath a wide canopy, just out of the rain. The bay beyond shimmered softly, grey-blue and calm despite the drizzle, and jars of wildflowers dotted the tables, their colours bright in the muted shade of the afternoon. She finished her pasty, then wrapped both hands around the mug, enjoying the simple, indulgent comfort of it.
The first sip was exactly what she needed: sweet and silky, with just the right hint of salt. Becca’s words turned over in her mind:This place is perfect for new beginnings.Pippa could see why; it was worlds away from what she was used to.
As soon as she’d finished the hot chocolate, Pippa stepped away from the hut and popped up her umbrella. Rain tapped steadily against the fabric as she walked towards the water, the path slick beneath her feet. She stopped at the edge of the bay and stared out across the rippling surface, her thoughts tumbling faster than the tide. The last twenty-four hours replayed in fragments: confetti that hadn’t fallen, vows that hadn’t been spoken, the stunned faces of friends and family as she’d bolted. She wondered what everyone must be saying back home. They were probably asking the same question she was asking herself. Why had she left it until the very last minute to walk away?
The easy answer was Rob. But that wasn’t really the truth. Not the whole truth.
Rob had been… safe. Nice enough. Steady. He’d arrived in her life at a point when everything else felt like it was slipping through her fingers. After her mum died and after those final conversations– the whispered warnings not to lose herself, not to settle– Pippa had been so tired. Tired of being strong, tired of making big decisions, tired of grief catching her off guard when she least expected it.
Rob didn’t ask much of her. He liked routine and plans. He also liked knowing where things were headed and, for a while, that had felt like relief. Like something solid to hold on to when everything else was hurting.
So she’d gone along with it. Because wasn’t that what people did? You met someone who was kind, who didn’t leave, who made the future feel orderly rather than frightening. You shared calendars and bills. You ticked the boxes as neatly as if life itself were a checklist. Marriage. Children. Happily ever after. It hadn’t felt like settling at first. It had felt like survival. Only somewhere along the way, without quite realising it, she’d stopped asking herself the one question that actually mattered. What do I want? She wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d hurt Rob, far from it, and choosing honesty over comfort had consequences, but she knew she’d made the right decision.
She stared out across the water, her mum’s words firmly on her mind. She deserved a love that felt like a classic timepiece, something intricate and layered, a rhythm that matched her own heartbeat. The truth she’d never say aloud– never, not even under duress, not even when Rose tried to bribe her with three gin and tonics– was that someonehadmade her heart race.
Theo Blake.
Ridiculous, really. They’d spent all their time sparring over essays and seminar questions, and yet… sometimes there had been a flicker, a half-smile caught across the library stacks, a fleeting moment of eye contact that made her stomach flutter as though she’d swallowed a whole family of clock springs, but she’d never admitted it to anyone, and tried on many occasions to push it out of her mind. But if the last twenty-four hours had proved anything, it was that deep down, in the very place she kept her most inconvenient truths, Theo Blake had captured her heart years ago and never really given it back. But there was nothing she could do about that now.
Hearing someone behind her, she spun round.
Sebastian was walking towards her. ‘Where did you sneak off to?’
‘I didn’t sneak off, I went for lunch.’
‘You and Theo looked cosy.’ Sebastian didn’t beat around the bush as he dipped under her umbrella.
‘We were just catching up. Just like we are now.’
‘Is he smug about the interview this afternoon?’
Pippa stood and began walking along the beach, but Sebastian followed.
‘Not at all. Just like anyone else in this industry would have been, he said he’s honoured to have been asked.’
Sebastian was quiet for a moment.
‘Funny, isn’t it? The way history repeats itself. You and me against Theo. The next couple of days will just be like old times.’
Pippa’s heart raced for all the wrong reasons.
Over the years she’d heard plenty about Sebastian in the clock world, particularly from people who’d worked with him– or tried to. He had started off selling exquisite timepieces to collectors and museums, but lately he had moved more into selling to celebrities. His shop in central London might have been glossy and prestigious, but the stories tucked behind the polished window displays were far less shiny. He didn’t value his staff, his apprentices rotating in and out so fast it was like he kept the door on a hinge just for them. Talented salesmen left quietly after he’d pushed them too hard, underpaid them, or taken credit for their leads. Suppliers muttered that he treated invoices like optional reading material.
