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An alarm went off and a nurse hurried in. ‘It’s OK, Sybil. Please keep the mask on. It’s important for your recovery.’ She glared at Matt and Zennor. ‘Please could you leave? None of this is helping your friend at all.’

Sybil clutched at the mask. ‘I – I wanted to talk to them.’

‘Not now, my lovely.’ The nurse spoke kindly. ‘It can wait, surely?’

‘It can wait,’ Zennor said even though every fibre of her was anticipating and dreading Sybil’s news. ‘Rest and get well. That’s all that matters.’

‘But – wait – M-Matt. W-wait for me. Please.’

‘Please go now,’ the nurse ordered as she replaced the oxygen mask while Matt and Zennor left the room. They heard the nurse comforting Sybil and the coughs subsiding.

‘She sounds terrible,’ Zennor said, tears wetting her cheeks. ‘And whatever she has to say, I won’t let her make herself worse.’

Matt rubbed his hand across his forehead.

‘Do you know what it is? You obviously do.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I know.’

‘And are you going to tell me?’

‘I – I want to. I have wanted to for a long time, I swear, but this is one thing you can only hear from Sybil.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Zennor was so exhausted yet so wound up she thought sleep would be impossible, but it did come eventually. Still, she woke at dawn after a night filled with disturbing dreams involving Matt, Trev, Sybil and fire. In one of them, she couldn’t find Matt and woke up with her face wet with tears.

What could Sybil possibly need to tell her so desperately? She’d run through so many scenarios in which Sybil could be some kind of villain but none of them seemed remotely feasible. As to how Matt was involved and why he could possibly know a dark secret that Zennor didn’t … none of it made sense.

Why, if this secret was so upsetting and important, had no one told her? Anger stirred again but she suppressed it. She’d spent quite a lot of the past few years feeling angry and she was determined not to waste any more time on toxic regrets, no matter what Sybil had to say.

As for Matt: she’d told him how she felt and, based on that kiss on the beach, she was in no doubt about how he felt.

Nothing could be so awful that it would threaten that new bond now, surely?

Taking a strong coffee on to the balcony, she looked over the lichen-covered rooftops of the town to the beach in front of the Surf Club and the abandoned marquee and stage. The large, blackened area on the sand looked like a giant scar. Contractors were already clearing away the burned tent and barriers.

Hearing a squawk, she glanced at the lamppost opposite but there was no Eric staring at her and she welled up. She missed him, which was ridiculous. She hadn’t even been sure he was an Eric and not an Erica.

With a sigh, she messaged her mother to let her know what had happened. There was always the chance that the Sea Fever fire would make it to national news and her mum might link it with Zennor.

Her mother called back before Zennor had finished her coffee.

‘Poor Sybil. Poor Sybil …’ she kept saying. ‘I can’t believe she was prepared to risk her own life to save you. Then again, it sounds exactly like Sybil.’ She hesitated and then declared, ‘I must come and see her. I must come and see you. It’s been far too long … Yes, Sybil and I have had our differences but I can never thank her enough for what she was willing to do for you.’

Zennor was about to downplay the incident but she knew her mum wouldn’t be fooled, so she said, ‘Me neither.’

‘In fact, I’m not going to wait a moment longer. I’m taking the holiday that’s owed me and I’ll be with you very soon. Love you, Zenny. I can’t wait to see you.’

It was only after her mother had rung off that Zennor gave in to the tears she could no longer hold back. Whatever was to come, she was alive, and so were Sybil and Matt. That was all that mattered.

With Sybil on the mend and Matt and Zennor offering to stay with her, she was released from the hospital later in the afternoon. They took both cars and Zennor drove her home with Matt following behind.

It was a beautiful afternoon, the breeze stirring the agapanthus and the distant sea a deep ultramarine. Looking out on this, no one could imagine the drama that had unfolded less than twenty-four hours previously.

‘Can we sit in the garden?’ Sybil asked, her voice still hoarse. Despite the fact she must have felt pretty awful, she’d pinned up her hair and put on some make-up. It was almost as if she were readying for battle.

‘Of course,’ Zennor said. ‘Shall I fetch you a glass of water?’