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Trev’s eyes darkened.

‘Trev. I’m joking.’ He sighed. ‘Come into the office. I’ve got five minutes.’

Trev curled his lip. ‘Generous of you.’

‘I’m like that. Want a seat?’ Matt indicated a battered office chair.

‘No, thanks. I’ve no intention of taking up more of your precious time than necessary.’

Suit yourself, Matt decided, determined not to show any sign of apprehension. Unpleasant vibes clung to the man like a lingering bad smell.

‘It’s about Zennor,’ Trev said, ‘which won’t surprise you.’

‘And about Roz aka Marielle?’ Matt asked, also remaining on his feet.

Trev’s eyes narrowed, instantly wary.

‘You hired her for that fundraiser. You must have known it was her,’ Matt said. ‘Zennor clearly didn’t.’

‘I didn’t know she was in that band. I’d seen one video on my phone and I didn’t recognise her. Why would I? Do you honestly think I’d have booked them if I’d known? And as for Zennor, why the hell would she realise who Marielle is? She’s never met her and besides, nothing happened. Certainly not what you accused me of in front of my wife and family and friends, anyway!’

Matt’s skin prickled unpleasantly. Trev must be here to purely to wind him up. ‘I agreed to this conversation because I thought there was a slim chance it might be helpful for all of us. It seems not and so I think we should leave things here.’

‘OK. Let’s agree to disagree on the subject of what you claimed to have seen at the hotel. My sole intention is to make sure that Zennor isn’t hurt again.’ His voice dripped with intent. ‘By either of us.’

‘I’d never hurt Zennor,’ Matt snapped.

‘Neither would I. But you already did – we both already did. The question is, are we going to upset her again by dragging up dirt on me from the past?’

‘What makes you think I have any more dirt on you to drag up?’ Matt said. ‘Are you here to warn me off?’

Trev snorted. ‘I’m only here to make sure that we’re both acting in Zennor’s best interests. I know what I think is best for her. You have to make up your own mind.’

Matt opened the garden gate at Rosemergy late in the afternoon to be greeted by dramatic music and Sybil’s voice intoning, ‘Tonight, I’m going to tell you about the legend of the Black Dog of Penzance, the Helston Hell Hound, the Beast of Bodmin. Whatever name that myth has given these terrifying creatures, you can guarantee one thing: they are always a harbinger of doom for anyone who has the misfortune to encounter them …’

Matt sniffed and coughed. He thought he could see smoke curling around the rear of the cottage. Even though his mood was grim, the Hammer Horror-style music and melodramatic tone made him smile. Sybil was clearly in her element rehearsing for a show.

Wafting it away, he rounded the rear of the cottage just as the music reached a crescendo.

‘Hello!’ he called. ‘Is anybody there?’

Hearing no answer, he walked on to the terrace.

‘What the bloody hell?’ A furious Sybil appeared, brandishing a garden rake. ‘Matt. For God’s sake! You nearly gave me a heart attack!’

Laughing, Matt raised his hands in surrender. ‘Sorry, but you can put the weapon down? I’m not the bogey man or the Labrador of Launceston or whatever.’

‘The Hell Hound of Helston!’ Sybil barked. ‘And I hope you’re not a harbinger of doom.’

‘Well …’ Matt’s mood deflated. ‘I’m no happy-go-lucky sprite either. I need to talk.’

He’d found it impossible to keep his focus on work after Trev had turned up. Although he hated to acknowledge it, the man was right about the consequences of ripping open old wounds. If Matt started flinging accusations around, he would hurt Zennor again – and other people he loved dearly. Was it possible that Zennor was interested in reviving her relationship with Trev? He’d decided to see how Sybil was and gauge her reaction.

‘Oh dear, when people say they need to talk, it’s rarely about anything uplifting.’

Matt managed a wry smile. ‘I’m not an uplifting person.’

She rolled her eyes and patted the garden chair. ‘What’s the matter?’