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‘I would love it if you came home.’ Zennor surprised herself by how much she wanted her mum and stepdad near. Maybe it was her raw emotional state.

‘Home. Yes. Cornwall is home. It always will be and if you’re here, then it’s ten times better.’

‘B-but how would you feel about seeing Sybil?’

‘I won’t know until I do. I’m going to meet it all head-on and not let it fester.’

‘I wish I could do that …’

‘You can. I think you need to find the strength to forgive people now. If not Sybil, then Matt at least.’

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The next day, Zennor gave her mum a lift to Sybil’s, dropping her at the top of the driveway to Rosemergy.

She drove off up the moor road, parked and walked up to an old tin mine called Ding Dong that had been a favourite of her dad’s. ‘Ding dong, ding dong!’ she’d sing as she danced along the path on their way to the ruined engine house. It was a place where they – and later Zennor by herself – could be alone even in the height of the summer.

Today, she was again the only visitor, probably because the clouds were low and thick over the north coast. She pressed her cheek to the old stones and silently asked, for the umpteenth time, if she could do as her mother advised: ‘I think you need to find the strength to forgive people now. If not Sybil, then Matt at least.’

She wanted to forgive them both, but most of all, she wanted to forgive her father so she could go on with his memory untainted.

She gazed out over the sea where the clouds had parted, revealing enough blue to patch a sailor’s shirt – which meant, her dad had always claimed, that the stormy front was passing and the forecast would be fine.

Like the stories around Ding Dong’s name, it was probably just another old wives’ tale, along with others she’d been led to believe … and yet she wasn’t a child any more. Being an adult meant hearing hard truths and dealing with them head-on, not retreating into the past, seeking golden days that could never come again.

On the drive back down to Rosemergy, Zennor decided that avoiding Sybil was fruitless, so she walked through the gate and towards the voices coming from the rear terrace. At least they weren’t raised voices, so that was promising.

Sybil met her halfway to the garden and Zennor’s body tensed instantly.

‘Zennor! I’m so glad you’re here.’ Poor Sybil looked terrified. Her face was ashen and she looked as though she hadn’t slept for days. Guilt twisted in Zennor’s guts. This was her friend she’d been avoiding.

‘I’ve come to collect Mum,’ she said limply.

‘I know – but I need to tell you something important. Matt’s just been.’

‘Matt was here?’

‘Yes. He came to see how I was and he said he hasn’t heard from you since – since our talk after the fire.’

‘Zennor.’ Her mother appeared behind Sybil. ‘I wish you’d call him. He seemed very down and—’ She exchanged a glance with Sybil. ‘He said he was leaving.’

‘Leaving?’ Zennor’s stomach lurched. ‘When?’

‘Well, now,’ Sybil said. ‘I saw a couple of overnight bags in his car when he left. He says he’s getting away from Cornwall for a while and doesn’t know when he’ll be back.’

‘But – he can’t!’ Zennor cried, shock and panic flooding through her. ‘He has the business here and his flat and – and everything. He belongs here.’

‘He doesn’t think so,’ her mum replied. ‘He said he can’t stay and ruin your life more than he already has so he may as well go.’

Realisation barrelled towards her like a huge wave that she had no chance of resisting. Its crest towered above her and crashed down, sweeping away every other emotion. Matt was leaving Cornwall; leaving her.

‘He hasn’t ruined my life!’ she blurted out, fighting back tears. ‘He has to stay because I – I need him and I love him.’ She groaned. ‘When was this?’

‘About half an hour ago. We tried to persuade him to wait and speak to you but he’d made up his mind. I was worried about him so I messaged him but there’s been no reply.’

‘No. No, this can’t happen. I have to go after him.’

‘Maybe if you message him, it will stop him,’ her mother suggested.