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One thing was for sure: Trev would have to wait. Kernow Entz and its clients came first today, and after tomorrow they could all have a bit of a breather – at least in work terms.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

On the driveway of Rosemergy Cottage the following day, Sybil sank back into the leather seat of Matt’s Discovery. ‘Thanks for the lift. My old Renault is off the road again.’

‘It’s no trouble. I’m going to this Sea Fever thing anyway. I’m helping out with the Surf Club demos in the afternoon,’ Matt said.

‘You’re teaching?’ Sybil raised an eyebrow while she fastened her seatbelt.

‘Helping out. Vince is running the whole thing and Dawn asked me because they were desperate for qualified people. I couldn’t say no.’ He started the engine, keen to draw the attention away from himself. ‘Are you looking forward to it?’

‘Actually, I’m not feeling terribly enthusiastic about this one.’

‘Why’s that?’ Matt asked, turning on to the coast road that led to St Ives. ‘You normally love the finale and Sea Fever sounds great.’ It was a modest family event by Cornish festival standards but one which always attracted local families as well as tourists. The club got a small cut of the gate receipts so Matt knew how important it was.

‘I know. It will be great. It makes a change to be part of a whole cast rather than on my own.’

Matt knew how she felt. Today, hopefully, he would simply be one of the many volunteers, not a benefactor attracting attention.

Sybil sighed.

‘Are you feeling OK?’ Matt asked, risking a quick glance at her. ‘You look a lot better than after your fall. I was really worried about you.’

‘How gallant of you,’ she said and Matt imagined her raising a sarcastic eyebrow. He was now too busy concentrating on the road busy with tourists, farm vehicles and tradespeople’s vans on this August Saturday.

He drove past the top entrance to the village which had given Zennor her name. She’d once told him her dad had loved the village so he’d suggested naming their only daughter after it. Zennor had always worshipped her father. ‘Oh, for f—’

The road ahead was blocked by a farmer on a quad bike and a herd of brown cows slowly trailing out of a farm gate and down the road into another field.

Sybil let the car window down and breathed deeply. ‘I love that fresh country air.’

Matt wrinkled his nose.

‘I fear we’ll be here for a while. That’s Jory Richards’s herd and they’re not keen to do anything in a hurry.’

‘Great.’ Matt drummed his fingers on the wheel. He’d planned on being nowhere near the festival or the Surf Club because of the high likelihood of bumping into Zennor. He’d only agreed to help out with the lifeguarding demos because Dawn had been desperate. Several of the club members were involved in festival events elsewhere and Matt hadn’t felt he could say no.

He coughed as the pungent smell of cow muck hit the back of his throat.

Sybil wound the window back up. ‘Oh well, at least we can have a proper chat now you’re not concentrating on the road.’

Matt didn’t want a chat. ‘I do wish these cows would shift! I think they’re doing this deliberately,’ he said as one cow lifted its tail and deposited a pile of dung right where Matt would have to drive when they eventually did move.

‘The cows can hardly be held responsible for your current mood, which is a little spiky, if I may say.’

‘I’m sorry. I – If you must know, the launch party was – unsettling. I was really pleased that the club decided to honour Grandad with the plaque and everyone was – well, really nice to me, but I hadn’t expected to be the centre of attention as much as I was.’

‘Oh, Matt, you couldn’t have really been that surprised? Harry was so well liked and Dawn probably meant well. Everyone must be so pleased you’ve stepped in to help.’

‘Maybe but I genuinely don’t do it for their thanks. Helping the club and knowing Grandad would be pleased is all I need. When they asked me to sing …’

The farmer tried to make the stubborn cow move.

Matt killed the engine and resigned himself to having a conversation with Sybil that he’d hoped to avoid. ‘When they first asked me to sing, I felt trapped but …’ His hands felt clammy on the wheel as he remembered the moment he’d been pushed forward. He picked his water bottle from the cup holder but offered it to Sybil first.

‘No, thanks,’ she said. ‘Kind of you but I have my own. Go on. You said you felt trapped but …’

‘But once I was actually singing and back into it, with the choir around me, I felt like I was – I don’t know. Uplifted. Listen to me. Does that sound pathetic?’