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‘I can never tell if you’re being sarcastic,’ Matt said, pecking her on the cheek.

She hugged him warmly. ‘I like to maintain the mystique but it is always lovely to see you.’

He noticed the dirt trail he’d left in the hall. ‘Should I take my boots off?’

‘Wow. That’s the first time you’ve ever offered to do that. You used to tramp in here, leaving all kinds of crap over my nice clean floors.’

‘You never told me not to.’

Sybil rolled her eyes. ‘Come on through.’ She ushered him into the kitchen at the rear of the house. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Tea would be good if you’ve got any. The bog-standard kind if possible.’

‘If you mean the disgusting crap you drink on building sites, I’m not sure I have any.’

A few minutes later, he was sitting on a settle next to the oak table, with a steaming mug of some kind of herbal tea in front of him. Sybil also produced a slice of caraway seed cake.

‘You still make this?’ he asked, his mouth watering at the fragrant cake.

‘Sometimes. You struck lucky as I didn’t know you were coming.’

Matt ate a chunk of the cake while Sybil removed the tea bag from her mug. The tea was a lemony green colour with a strong scent. Not his thing at all.

‘Were you just passing?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Kind of. I was on my way to check the plaque for Grandad. The club committee want to call it the Harry Veryan Clubhouse.’

‘Oh, how lovely!’ Sybil’s eyes lit up. ‘He’d love that.’

‘I’m not so sure. He didn’t like a fuss.’

‘But he’d be proud, nonetheless. How’s the clubhouse renovation going?’

‘Good. We’ve already stripped out and refitted one of the changing rooms and the walls have been reskimmed. We’re hoping it’ll all be done for the relaunch though it’ll be tight. And there’s a painting party scheduled for the weekend after next so that everyone has a chance to get involved in the renovations. Dawn thought it would be good for members to take ownership of the refurbed clubhouse.’

‘Um … I’m so terribly sorry but unfortunately I’ll be resurfacing my cauldron.’

Matt had to smile. ‘I thought you might be busy.’

‘Actually I am. I’m appearing at a literary festival as part of the folktales afternoon. Painting isn’t really my forte, as you can tell from the Shack.’ She waved her hand at the blue walls with their hand-painted stars. Matt had always secretly liked them.

‘I think your skills would brighten up the clubhouse no end. But if you’re otherwise engaged …’

‘Seriously, it sounds like a lot of fun. Painting by committee.’

‘I liked Dawn’s idea that the whole club should be involved in the renovation, rather than me arranging for contractors to do it.’

Sybil laughed. ‘Even if they might have to come and fix it later.’

‘I’m prepared for that.’

‘How do your mum and dad feel about all your work on the club? And it being in honour of your grandad?’

‘They’re pleased. They wish they could come over to see it but it’s such a journey from Australia. Sometimes I wonder if I should have emigrated too.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Sybil said tartly.

He pushed his empty plate away. ‘Well, I think they worried that me returning to St Ives was a backwards step.’