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Zennor wasn’t sure how to respond to this new reflective Trev. He was so unlike the one she’d married, who’d been so sure of his place and direction in life.

‘I’m still the same person that I was but life has a way of knocking the stuffing out of you and taking the edges off your certainty. Sorry, mixed metaphors … Mum’s passing – and our split – altered my perspective.’

‘I can understand that,’ she said cautiously, not wanting to dredge up the bitter sludge that mired their split.

‘I wanted to tell you in person that I was back. I didn’t want you to have a shock and hear it from someone else.’

‘Why would it be a shock? You’re only visiting, aren’t you?’ Zennor asked, the prickles of unease creeping up her spine again.

He waggled a hand. ‘Well, yes and no. The business I mentioned involves the St Piran’s Spa Hotel. Mum left me a substantial inheritance and you know I’ve wanted to get more hands on in hospitality. I decided that now was the time.’ He hesitated and then said, ‘And when I heard the place was up for sale, I decided to do exactly that. As of this morning, the St Piran’s is officially mine.’

Zennor turned cold. All her instincts had been right. There was a reason why he’d returned – it was no mere chance. It never could have been with Trev: he always had a purpose.

‘You seem stunned. I don’t blame you. I’m pretty stunned myself, but I did talk about it, dream about it.’

‘I know you always wanted a restaurant or a hotel but I thought you wanted a boutique place – something smaller.’

‘Me too, but the St Piran’s came up. I was shocked by the size of the inheritance. Mum never let on that she’d squirrelled so much away. Apparently, she’d had investments for years on top of that rambling old house in Horsham.’

‘How long have you known it was for sale? I didn’t.’

‘A few months – I heard via a friend who was at a hospitality conference with the St Piran’s owners – ex-owners now.’ He smiled. ‘It felt like fate.’

‘Fate …’ she echoed. ‘I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff?’

‘I don’t. I didn’t. But hearing that the very hotel we’d been married at was for sale? It’s in a fantastic location and it’s recently been done up. Plus, they have some very experienced staff in place and it’s profitable, which is a pretty big deal these days for a hotel. I called the owners and I went for it.’ He drained his beer bottle while she fought to process this news.

‘So, you’ll be moving back down here?’ It was impossible to keep the shock from her voice.

‘I already have. I rented a flat in Penzance but I’ll need something more permanent.’

‘Do – So you plan on being hands-on at the hotel?’

‘Yeah. I’m overseeing the financial and strategic direction, and I’ll be on site a lot while the team get to know me and vice versa. I’ll probably leave most of the day-to-day stuff to the existing team once everyone has found their feet. Although I’m sure I won’t be able to help but get involved in the smaller details.’

He laughed but Zennor was too stunned to join him.

‘I’m afraid we might end up bumping into each other more often,’ he said, and then touched her fingers with his, briefly and lightly. ‘I hope that’s not going to be a problem. Coming back here – invading your territory – was the one thing that almost put me off buying the St Piran’s.’

‘It did?’

‘But I thought you wouldn’t want me to factor us into my decision. The past is the past, isn’t it? If we could be friends again, it would be a huge relief to me.’

Zennor didn’t know how she felt; so many surprises had landed on her in the past half an hour. She couldn’t say she didn’t care or that she didn’t mind because both would be untrue. ‘I wouldn’t want to stop you from doing what you want. It’s – your decision alone.’

Trev let out a sigh of relief. ‘Phew, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up and that me being around won’t be a problem for you.’

‘No, it won’t,’ she said, sounding far more convincing than she felt. ‘Absolutely no problem at all.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘Matt, darling. To what do I owe this honour?’ Sybil held open the door of Rosemergy Cottage to let him in out of the rain. Over a week had passed since he’d rescued Zennor and he hadn’t been up this way since that afternoon.

Thanks to the full force of the storm blowing in off the Atlantic, Matt’s hair and sweatshirt were already wet from the short dash from his car.

‘Is it an honour?’ he asked, wiping his boots on the doormat.

‘It’s always an honour to see my godson,’ Sybil said, closing the door. The roar of the wind dimmed, muffled by the thick stone walls.