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‘Another numpty?’ Roo peeled the paper off an ice lolly.

‘Yeah. He’s from our insurance company. He lives in Cornwall. He should know where Zennor is.’

Roo grimaced. ‘I hate this part of the job: all the admin and idiots.’

Zennor rolled her eyes. ‘Tell me about it. There seem to be more and more boxes to fill in and I’m not sure we can tick them all in terms of the insurance.’

‘I hate the form-filling too. I’d rather be out watching new talent and dealing with artistes any day of the week but we can’t run an entertainment agency without complying with all the rules and regulations.’ Roo said the last words in the voice of a ‘jobsworth’ character, making Zennor laugh.

It was late May and the season was in full swing, with performers required for weddings, parties and events all over the county and beyond. If you needed a fire-eater for your festival, a string quartet for your anniversary do, or a mermaid to pop up at your kid’s birthday party, Zennor and Roo could wave their magic wands.

Over the summer, Kernow Entz was providing clients for a constant stream of events, culminating in the Sea Fever festival that rounded off the St Eia Arts Festival. However, that was still months away and they had bigger things to worry about first.

Zennor reached for her water flask, eyeing the motionless fan with disdain. ‘Have we found out what’s wrong with that thing?’

Roo glanced up. ‘No. I’ve ordered a new one from Amazon and it should come tomorrow.’

‘Thanks, Roo. Dunno what I’d do without you.’

The desk phone rang and Roo picked it up. ‘Ah, Titania. Glad you called …’

While Roo continued a conversation with the leader of a troupe of professional mermaids, Zennor wandered over to the window. Tradespeople’s vans honked as they tried to carve a path through the hordes of tourists meandering along the St Ives Wharf and harbour front.

‘It would help if the windows would open so we could get the breeze flowing through …’ Zennor muttered, fiddling with the iron catch, which was rammed in the slot. She was tempted to pick at the splinters of wood around it.

‘Don’t!’ Roo barked, materialising at Zennor’s side. Zennor sometimes fancied that her friend, with her pink pixie cut and emerald eyes, was some kind of elfin creature. She’d certainly waved her wand to support Zennor on many occasions, including helping her start Kernow Entertainments when Zennor had been desperate for a fresh start after her divorce from Trev.

‘That window is so dodgy that if we open it, I don’t think it would ever shut again,’ Roo warned.

Zennor grumbled, ‘The whole frame’s rotten. I thought Mikey had arranged for the painters to come and ease it, whatever that means. He knows that everything needs more maintenance by the sea.’

The tide was full in, with fishing boats and pleasure craft bobbing on the jade-green waters of the harbour. It was so tempting to run outside and dive in.

‘I’ll email him again, but he’s like the Scarlet Pimpernel lately,’ Roo said, referring to their elusive landlord, before going out to the rear yard behind the office, presumably to try and get a better signal.

‘Thanks,’ Zennor called after her. She went back to her desk, promising herself a swim later in a quiet cove outside of town where she hoped to find peace. While social media had made Cornwall’s wild beauty even more famous, there were still a few places where Zennor could have an evening dip with only the seals for company.

First, she had to find a contortionist for the Magic Lantern Festival, a smaller family festival with a retro magical theme, in Tehidy Woods a few miles up the coast. By day, it attracted thousands of families, and in the evening the trees were strung with hundreds of lanterns while fire-eaters, stilt walkers, jugglers and, hopefully, contortionists mingled with the crowds. Kernow Entz had sourced many of their artistes, including a folk band, fairy troupe and storyteller.

The contortionist was proving tricky. They weren’t that common in Cornwall and Zennor had never booked one before. The agency had none on their books yet and a Google search turned up no one suitable closer than London. And yet … an image of a young man and woman in silver Lycra kept appearing in the corner of her mind. She was sure she’d seen a flyer or a leaflet for a duo somewhere. She remembered picking it up at a festival and filing it somewhere in the office.

Snatches of a heated conversation filtered in through the open rear door, which at least was affording some fresh air. Roo was trying to calm down a magician whose latest booking had been cancelled.

Zennor flicked through the filing cabinet. Nothing in C for Contortionists. That would have been too easy. She tried A for Acrobats and then M for Miscellaneous.

Hurrah. The flyer was in there along with all kinds of random stuff. Snake charmer, fire-eater, knife thrower, dancing corgi … As she leafed through the flyers, a photograph slipped out and slid under her desk.

The photo transported her back over five years. It was she and Trev on their wedding day, smiling and chinking glasses in the pavilion at the St Piran’s, the sea sparkling in the background. They’d been so happy then, not knowing what was lying in wait for them at the reception just a few hours later – and in the years that followed.

If she’d known what was to come, would she have married Trev? Probably not. Definitely not. Then again, if Matt Veryan hadn’t turned up like a wrecking ball, would she and Trev have stood more of a chance of happiness? Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered.

She put the photo on her desk, face down. That was another time, another life – one she’d fought hard to move on from.

‘Zen? Are you OK?’ Roo was peering down at her. ‘Zen?’

Zennor glanced up and sighed. ‘Sorry. Was I in a world of my own again?’

‘I only asked because you’ve been staring at that photo. I’m guessing it doesn’t have happy memories.’