THE CORNISH CREAM TEA CHRISTMAS
Cressida McLaughlin

Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

The News Building

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain as four separate ebooks in 2020 by HarperCollinsPublishers

Copyright © Cressida McLaughlin 2020

Cover design Caroline Young © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020.

Cover illustration © May Van Millingen

Cressida McLaughlin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008408718

Ebook Edition © November 2020 ISBN: 9780008408725

Version: 2020-09-09

Dedication

For Kate, Tim, Clara and Pete

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Part One: Rudolph the Red Velvet Cupcake

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Part Two: Let Jingle Buns Ring!

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Part Three: I’m Dreaming of a Hot Chocolate

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Part Four: All I Want for Christmas Is Cake

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Acknowledgements

Cressy’s Christmas away from home …

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Cressida McLaughlin

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Hannah Swan sat in her allocated window seat and felt a faint pang of disappointment. On the walk from her flat to Waverley station, despite the early hour, Edinburgh had been so full of twinkling Christmas lights – strung up in the trees of Princes Street Gardens, and as part of sumptuous festive window displays – that the faded fabric of her seat and plain Formica table were a letdown. The only burst of colour came from a poster advertising mini-breaks in the Scottish Highlands, and the lush greens and endless blue sky were entirely wrong for this time of year. Hannah loved Christmas, and her train was sadly lacking in adornment.

It was the fourth of December, a Friday, and she was on her way to the other end of the country; to a Cornish village called Porthgolow, to spend a week assessing the green credentials of a spa hotel. She gave a brief shake of her head as a man settled into the seat opposite and held a newspaper open in front of his face. All her carefully orchestrated plans: the friends’ Christmas that she always held on the twenty-third; present-buying and -wrapping; decorating her tiny flat and helping her mum put up her tree. She would somehow have to fit them all in when she got back.

She had only been working as an eco-consultant for Green Futures for six months, and this was her very first client. Gerald, her boss, had initially been reluctant to send Hannah on her own, but when her colleague, Brad – who unsurprisingly had a myriad of reasons why he couldn’t take such a long trip a few weeks before Christmas – had suggested Hannah could work with one of the freelancers based in Cornwall, Gerald had agreed. It was the best of both worlds: a member of his core team to show the hotel owner, Daniel Harper, how committed they were to his case, and an experienced freelancer who had local knowledge.

Sitting in the cool meeting room with a view of Edinburgh Castle beyond the rain-splattered glass, Hannah had been overjoyed. It wasn’t until she was on her way to meet her friend that evening that reality had set in.

‘Why did you accept it?’ Saskia had asked once they were settled in the pub, festive foil decorations looped across the ceiling. ‘Why go now, just before Christmas, instead of taking the next case he offered you in the New Year?’

‘I have to show willing,’ Hannah had replied. ‘I have to prove myself.’

‘Do you think Gerald had that in the forefront of his mind when he let you accept a case that nobody with any sense would take?’ Saskia’s dark eyes had flashed. ‘It’s bloody freezing, it’s nearly Christmas and it’s hundreds of miles away. Not to mention your company policy means you can’t hop on a plane and be there in a couple of hours.’

Hannah had squirmed in her seat. ‘Gerald’s not a game player. He’s keen for me to get out there. Also, Sask, how can we tell people how to look after the planet if we’re flying everywhere? Trains are the best option.’

‘But what about your plans?’ Saskia had pressed. ‘The friends’ Christmas? Strategy is your middle name, and I can’t imagine how you’re going to fit everything in once you’re back. You know I’ll help as much as I can, I just don’t want you getting stressed.’

‘I’ll re-strategize then,’ Hannah had said, hoping Saskia couldn’t see that she was slightly hurt to be given no credit for spontaneity. It was true that she liked to be prepared, but she wasn’t a total stick-in-the-mud. ‘Besides,’ she’d continued, ‘I’m not solely responsible for the Crystal Waters project, so I won’t get stressed.’

‘Ah yes, your babysitter,’ Saskia had grinned. ‘Gerald’s covered his bases.’

‘Exactly.’ Hannah had nodded, determined. ‘My freelancer.’ She didn’t like to think of someone babysitting her – that person being somebody called Noah Rosewall, apparently one of Gerald’s trusted contacts, who lived an hour away from Porthgolow.

It was a strange situation where Hannah, as a Green Futures employee, would be leading on the case, but Noah would have more experience. Hannah hoped they would work well together, despite the unusual set-up and the fact they’d never met before, and that she could prove to Gerald she deserved her place on his team.

The train juddered awake and Hannah held on to her coffee and her almond croissant. It had been too early to have breakfast at home, and she needed fortification for the long journey. What she hadn’t told Saskia was that, as well as wanting to get her first project under her belt, she had felt the pull of Cornwall like a familiar song tugging at her heartstrings.

Her mum had taken her and her brother there on holiday when they were little; they had stayed in Newquay and made the most of the surrounding beaches. Hannah remembered the way it was almost surreally beautiful when the sun was shining, the colours pure and bold. Those holidays had ended when they’d moved to Scotland, but the snippets of memory Hannah had retained were magical. Cornwall in December would be very different from midsummer, and she would be there for work, but the thought of seeing the sea and the rugged coastline still gave her a thrill.

Tucking a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear, she took out her iPad and opened Safari, Porthgolow appearing as a search option after she’d typed the first two letters. She’d already done this several times, but nothing about the village’s internet presence had so far jogged her memory, and when she’d spoken to her mum on the phone – she hadn’t had time to visit her before the trip itself – her mother had been vague.

‘Of course we didn’t just stay in Newquay when we went, love, but that’s what a holiday’s for – travelling around, visiting new places. What’s the name of this village again?’

‘Porthgolow,’ Hannah had said, and then repeated it, trying out a slightly different pronunciation.

There was a pause, as if her mum was considering it, and then, ‘Nope. Doesn’t ring any bells. Maybe we passed through it, but all those Cornish place names are so similar … It was twenty years ago, love.’

They hadn’t lived in Edinburgh when Hannah was little; she’d been born in Oxford, and they’d moved to Scotland when she was nine, her mum wanting a fresh start after divorcing Hannah’s dad. After that, the Cornwall holidays had stopped. It was a long enough journey at the best of times, as she was about to experience for herself, let alone with two young children.

From her online search, Hannah had already discovered one point of interest in the village she was visiting: the Cornish Cream Tea Bus. It was a vintage Routemaster that had been turned into a café and was based on Porthgolow beach. It gave tours around local beauty spots, was the focal point of a Saturday food market and had even, earlier in the year, been part of the catering team for a lavish BBC costume drama filming in the area.

Hannah went to the website now, and once again pored over photographs of the bus standing on the beach, its red paintwork contrasting with the pale sand and dizzyingly blue water. There were pictures of scones, crumbling under healthy dollops of jam and cream, steaming cups of tea, sausage rolls and mini quiches, Danishes and doughnuts, slices of lemon cake. Hannah’s mouth started to water and, as she went on to read about the variety of culinary delights on offer at the food markets, she was almost drooling. Would they be holding them in December? Would the bus even be open?

Hannah felt a pang of longing for her sous chef job at the Whisky Cellar, an upmarket restaurant in Edinburgh’s old town. It had kept her in rent money throughout her university course, but it hadn’t just been a way of staying afloat. She had loved the simple pleasure of creating original, mouthwatering food, though she hadn’t admitted to anyone quite how much she missed it. She decided, as she eyed her almond croissant with disappointment – it didn’t look anywhere near as good as the photos she’d just been looking at – that while she was in Porthgolow, she would fit in at least one visit to the Cornish Cream Tea Bus. She wondered if Noah could suggest other local eateries for her to try.

The train picked up speed and left Edinburgh behind, and Hannah turned to her notes. It was just after seven, and she had at least ten hours of travelling ahead of her. The first train took her all the way to Newton Abbot in Devon, so she was pleased she’d got a table and a window seat.

The Crystal Waters Spa Hotel had been established in 2016, taking the place of the old Clifftop Hotel which had, according to the owner, Daniel Harper, been rundown and unsafe when he’d bought the site. Mr Harper had built his new retreat to a high standard, securing it into the cliff in a way that must have been eye-wateringly expensive to achieve.

From everything she’d seen and read, Hannah thought that this would be a straightforward job. Ecological concerns were already on everyone’s radar when the hotel was built, and it looked as if Crystal Waters was ahead of the game. But there was always room for improvement, and that’s what she and Noah would be able to advise on. Excitement danced through her at the thought of it: walking through the rooms and grounds, assessing the building’s suitability for solar panels or an energy-efficient air-conditioning system, discussing water reclamation, eco-friendly toiletries and reduced packaging. Even the smallest changes would make a difference.

Done with her notes, she looked at her messages. The first contact she’d had with Noah was an email exchange once Gerald had confirmed the visit and put them in touch. He’d offered to pick her up from Newquay station, which she’d readily accepted. Her train was due to get in just after five that evening.

Hi, it’s Noah. So you have my number if you need to get in touch.

Hi Noah, thanks so much for this! Really looking forward to working with you. Hannah.

You too.

So far, so straightforward.

Hannah read and dozed, and returned to the buffet car once her croissant – great flavour, a little on the soggy side – had disappeared. The weather changed as frequently as the view beyond the glass; bright rays peeping out between clouds, rain battering the windows moments later, the dense greys and brick reds of towns and cities replaced by dun-coloured December fields and the charcoal lines of leafless trees. The man with the broadsheet seemed disinclined to make small talk, leaning his head against the seat and closing his eyes once he’d finished with his newspaper.

As morning slipped into afternoon, Hannah noticed the increasing frequency of the announcements, her skin prickling when one started with: We regret to inform you that … There was a signalling problem ahead of them, and the updates were soon accompanied by stops and starts, the hitherto-moving backdrop now pausing on views of fields and cows, rows of neat back gardens with colourful children’s slides and washing lines.

The man opposite Hannah woke up and blinked, his gaze settling on her. He was attractive, in a ‘distinguished older man’ sort of way, dressed in a navy and white checked shirt, his dark hair greying at the temples.

‘We must be nearly at Newton Abbot by now,’ he said.

‘I’m afraid there have been some signalling problems,’ Hannah replied, ‘so we’re forty-five minutes behind. They’re keeping us up to date with announcements, though,’ she added brightly, trying to find something positive amongst the gloom.

He swore under his breath but gave her a tight smile. ‘Isn’t this bloody typical? I’m going for a coffee. Want anything?’ He gestured at her empty water bottle and sandwich packet. Hannah was about to decline, then realized she was cold and that, also, she wanted a reason to keep their conversation going. ‘A tea would be lovely, if you’re sure?’ She opened her handbag to get her purse, but when she looked up he was already striding through the carriage.

She messaged Noah.

Hi. We’re running 45 mins late. Signalling problems! :( I’ll miss my connection but there should be another train. :) I’ll let you know. Hannah.

His reply came half an hour later, once her table companion had returned with tea and chocolate biscuits and refused to let her pay for them.

Keep me updated.

Noah, it seemed, was a man of few words.

Her table companion, however, was not. Mark was a business consultant on his way to visit his elderly mother in Devon. Hannah enjoyed his company, glad that he’d eventually chosen conversation over silence. Saskia had often said Hannah’s main superpower was friendliness, and Hannah would be the first to admit that she wasn’t self-conscious when it came to getting to know people.

Mark told her about the village he’d grown up in and where his mother still lived, how he’d go to the pub and pick up conversations with people he hadn’t seen for years as if the intervening time had never happened. She told him about the reason for her journey, and about planning her friends’ Christmas. She explained that she always chose a non-traditional menu so nobody overdosed on turkey, and how it was always the maddest – but the best – part of her festive season.

As they talked, an image of Seth popped into her head. Dark hair and even darker eyes, a smile that could be insolent and heart-meltingly attractive all at once. Seth was one of her group of friends, and the object of her secret desire for many years. He had also broken up with his girlfriend, Laura, in the summer.

Hannah hadn’t spent too much extra time planning this year’s meal – she had been going to research ways to make her Dauphinoise potatoes especially rich and extra crispy on the top anyway – but she couldn’t deny that Seth’s recently single status had been on her mind.

By the time the train pulled into Newton Abbot it was an hour and twenty minutes late, but Hannah had barely thought about it.

‘Need help with your case?’ Mark asked as they stepped onto the platform. He had lifted it down the train steps without asking, and was now hovering, waiting to see if he could be useful. The wind was icy, the sun low in the sky, the night edging closer.

‘I’m fine, thank you though. You should go and find a taxi. Your mum will be wondering where you are.’

‘She’ll be asleep in front of the telly,’ he replied with a good-natured eye-roll. ‘Good to meet you, Hannah. Good luck with the hotel and, when you get to it, have a great Christmas.’

‘You too!’ Hannah watched him stride off, burying his chin in the collar of his coat.

She searched screens for the next train and platform to Newquay, accepting the help of a staff member who was directing the late passengers to their onward journeys. She followed the stream of people, waited ten minutes for the smaller train, then texted Noah her updated arrival time.

It was close to seven when the train finally pulled into Newquay, and despite her tiredness after hours of travelling, her stomach was a ball of nervous anticipation. She was in Cornwall. She would be able to taste salt on the breeze and hear the crash of waves against the sand.

She smiled at the guard as she went through the turnstiles, cheered by the band of silver tinsel round his hat, and stepped outside. The darkness was complete, the soft glow from the station’s outside lamps reached barely beyond the taxi rank, and the crisp night had no hint of warmth. Hannah wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck. It was made up of rainbow stripes of the softest wool, a long-ago present from her dad. It was only just holding together but she refused to give up on it. She peered into the car park and pulled out her phone.

She had no idea what Noah looked like or what car he had. He was thirty, two years older than her, but there hadn’t been a photograph accompanying the Pen Picture Gerald had sent across to her once his involvement had been confirmed. She was about to call him when a loud beeeeep made her jump. She spotted a gleaming black Land Rover, its headlights shining like twin suns, obscuring the driver. Could that be Noah, expert eco-consultant, driving a huge, gas guzzling car? She turned away, perusing her surroundings for someone more likely.

The car horn sounded again and Hannah’s head whipped round. Whoever it was seemed desperate to get her attention, but she remained wary. She didn’t relish the thought of being kidnapped and thrown in a dank cave, or her lifeless body being dumped on a beach at first light, the waves creeping up to her blue toes.

She shook her head: she should have asked Noah what car he drove.

Finding his number in her phone, she hit call just as a man leaned his head out of the Land Rover’s window.

‘Hannah Swan?’ His voice was low, with an edge of irritation.

‘Noah!’ She beamed, cancelled the call and wheeled her suitcase over to join him.

He got out of the car and came round to meet her. He was taller than her, dark hair tamed away from his face with a shiny coating of styling product, his eyes meeting hers behind black-framed glasses. His jaw was square and, even this late in the day, impeccably clean shaven. He was wearing a formal shirt the colour of forget-me-nots and black trousers, no jacket, despite it being Friday evening and utterly freezing. He held his hand out, and she felt the strength in his confident but not overpowering shake. His gaze didn’t leave her face, and Hannah felt suddenly flustered.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come over immediately,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure –’ if you were going to abduct and kill me – ‘if it was you.’

‘Because of the car,’ he said, raising an eyebrow.

Hannah nodded as he took her case and lifted it into the boot. When he closed it, he pointed to a shiny silver decal just above the bumper. ‘It’s a hybrid. You have to have weight behind your wheels on these roads, especially in winter, so I had to compromise.’

‘It’s a very … smart compromise.’ Hannah knew from work how much hybrid vehicles cost, and this one was not cheap.

Noah gave her a tight smile. ‘Some people might say it’s an indulgence.’

‘I wasn’t saying that,’ she replied. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late, and I didn’t mean to—’

Noah held up a hand, stopping her. ‘Let’s get in, shall we? It’s bracing out here.’ Without waiting for her reply, he climbed into the driver’s seat, and Hannah headed round to the passenger side. Once inside, she immediately regretted commenting on the car. It was glorious, the plush seat cushioning her weary body, the interior warm and softly lit. She risked a glance at Noah and saw that, beneath the wax, his hair was desperate to curl. It sat up in little peaks – like lizard crests, she thought, and hid a smile.

He drove out of the car park and onto the dark road. ‘You must be tired after your journey,’ he said into the quiet, the car’s engine no more than a gentle hum.

‘It was annoying that we got held up,’ she said, ‘but all I had to do was sit there and wait for the train to reach Newquay. You’re the one who’s been put out, not knowing when I’d finally appear.’

‘It’s not a problem,’ he said. His voice was low and measured, but she’d detected the faintest hint of a Cornish accent, some of the vowels lengthened slightly, words not ending as sharply as they might.

‘It’s kind of you to come and get me at all.’

‘You wouldn’t have had much luck with public transport from Newquay to Porthgolow on a Friday night in December.’

Hannah waited for the accompanying laugh or smile, but none came. His arms seemed constrained by his blue shirt, the muscle definition obvious once you started to look. He seemed tightly held together, every action careful, giving nothing away: not curls or emotions or warmth. Hannah hoped it was simply that this was their first meeting, or that he was tired and desperate to drop her off and get back to whoever was waiting for him at home.

‘Do you know Porthgolow well?’ she asked.

‘I know most of Cornwall well,’ he replied, ‘so I know Porthgolow. But I haven’t been in the hotel, or met the owner.’

‘Have you been on the bus?’

‘The bus?’ She could hear the frown in his voice. ‘I tend to use this, seeing as I paid so much for it.’ He patted the steering wheel.

She couldn’t detect any sarcasm in his voice, so she had no idea if it was a joke or if he was annoyed by her earlier comment. She felt cowed, as if she’d done nothing but irritate him since the moment they’d met.

‘I meant the Cornish Cream Tea Bus,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s in Porthgolow, and from what I’ve read it’s really popular, a tourist destination all on its own. The cakes look delicious.’

‘Oh. That. No, I’ve not been on that.’ Hannah watched a muscle move in his jaw, waited for him to say something else and then, when he didn’t, turned to look out of the side window, where there was nothing to see except darkness. Her confidence wavered. If Noah was going to be like this the entire week, then her supposed superpower of being able to make friends with everyone was going to be sorely tested.

Chapter Two

Hannah didn’t have the joys of the Cornish landscape to distract her as they drove up the coast from Newquay, and Noah remained quiet in the driver’s seat. Either he was concentrating on the dark road, or he didn’t want to get to know her. Or maybe, she thought, shifting in her seat, she was giving off antisocial vibes by looking out of her window.

‘Not long now,’ he said, surprising her. ‘Don’t fall asleep on me before we get there.’

Hannah laughed, then cleared her throat. ‘I can’t seem to slow my brain down. I feel as if I’m still moving, the world shooting past the train window at a hundred miles an hour.’

‘You are still moving, though,’ he said softly.

‘Oh.’ Heat blossomed in her cheeks. ‘Yes, of course.’ God. She wasn’t sure it was possible for things to get more awkward. She burrowed in her bag for her phone, and tapped out messages to Saskia and her mum, letting them know she’d arrived. She didn’t tell Gerald – she would settle for emailing him once they’d made progress at the hotel. When she looked up they were turning into another car park, a metal sign on the wall announcing that this was the Crystal Waters Spa Hotel.

Hannah gasped. She had seen photos of it online, but they hadn’t done justice to the beacon of glass and elegantly lit, honey-coloured brickwork that appeared like a mirage out of the dark. There were lollipop bay trees either side of the doors, everything about it screaming quiet opulence. She thought of the bed she would sink into not too far in the future, and sighed dreamily.

‘It looks impressive,’ Noah murmured, as he turned the car expertly into a space. Hannah could hear the sea, the gentle shushing of calm waves hitting sand. Anticipation ran down her spine and, relieved and tired and eager to get to her room and take her shoes off, she turned to Noah, awkwardness forgotten.

‘Thank you for dropping me off. When do you want to start work? Tomorrow? I’m here for a week, so if you’re keen to get going then I don’t mind working the weekend.’

‘I thought we could have a quick meeting now. Have you eaten?’

‘Now?’ Hannah balked. ‘I was going to see if I could grab a snack.’

‘Great. Let’s get you checked in, you can take your things to your room and we can get a bite to eat.’ He pushed open the door and went round to the boot. Hannah sat for a moment before getting out, wondering if her confusion had been obvious. She had been expecting Noah to dump her and go, not prolong their torturous time together.

He led the way through the doors, wheeling Hannah’s suitcase, and she followed, entranced by the beautiful foyer. Everything was surrounded by glass, glossy and shimmering, a golden pattern in the stone floor catching her eye. The tones and textures were natural: greys, greens and muted blues. It was organic and luxurious and wholesome all at once, and every inch exuded class.

She stood next to Noah while another guest checked in.

The woman ahead of them was wearing a knee-length red corduroy coat and purple Doc Martens. She had reddish-brown hair in a frizzy cloud around her face, her pale skin contrasting against the bright blue frames of her glasses.

‘I have my reservation number here somewhere,’ she said, burying her arm in a large canvas bag.

‘Your surname will be fine,’ replied the neat woman behind the desk. ‘We’ll be able to look you up on the system with that.’

‘I just feel so stupid,’ the woman continued. ‘I packed so carefully this morning. Maybe I’ve left it in the car?’ A couple of pens spilled out of her bag and onto the floor. ‘I could have a quick look in the glove compartment.’ She gave an exasperated sigh and a small bag fell out of the larger one, a lipstick and powder compact scattering across the polished stone.

Hannah bent down and retrieved them, the woman giving her a grateful smile when she handed them back. She had hazel eyes and long lashes, her lips coral – presumably from the lipstick Hannah had just returned – but her brows were lowered, as if she was permanently puzzled.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I mean honestly. You would think I could manage this one thing.’

The receptionist smiled. ‘It’s fine, Ms …’

‘Benson. Audrey Benson. I am sorry about this, it’s just I’m sure I had the email printed out.’

‘It’s not a problem,’ the receptionist assured her again smoothly. ‘I’ve got you here. Let me print off your form, I’ll just need a signature and a date, plus your car registration number, and you’ll have your room key in no time at all.’

Hannah smiled, enjoying the good-natured chaos, and glanced at Noah. He was so still and sombre, it was as if he couldn’t see what was happening in front of him. His eyes, she saw, were a bright, clear blue. She hadn’t noticed under the station lamps or in the car. Hannah gazed at him a moment longer and then, when it was her turn, strode forward to check in.

‘Hannah Swan?’ the receptionist repeated when she’d given her name.

‘That’s right, from Green Futures. And this is Noah Rosewall. I think we’re expected, though it’s only me staying here.’

‘I live in Mousehole,’ Noah added, joining Hannah at the desk.

‘Of course.’ The woman, whose name tag read Chloe, gave them a warm smile. ‘If you could hold on just one moment?’

She went through a door behind her and returned with a tall, wide-shouldered man who, Hannah couldn’t help noticing, was very handsome. He met her gaze easily, and she felt the full force of his charisma. He strode forward, coming round the desk to meet them. He shook her hand first, then Noah’s.

‘I’m Daniel Harper. Did you have a good journey?’ He glanced between them. ‘I have to say I was expecting you slightly earlier.’

‘Train delays,’ Hannah said. ‘There’s plenty of time for problems to crop up when you’re coming from Edinburgh.’

Daniel winced sympathetically. ‘It’s a long journey, but it gives me confidence that I’m worth it – or at least my hotel is, if you’re prepared to travel all this way. And you, Noah? You’re local to the area?’

‘Mousehole,’ Noah said again. ‘It’s still an hour’s journey, but that’s Cornwall for you.’ She thought he sounded indulgent rather than angry, as if he was proud to live in a place where the roads resembled farm tracks and short trips took half the morning.

‘It is indeed,’ Daniel said. He was smiling, giving them his full attention. The perfect host. ‘Hannah, I’ve given you one of the sea-view rooms, number fourteen, which is on the floor below. You’re not planning on starting work now, are you?’

‘We’re going to have a quick debrief in the restaurant or … do you have somewhere less formal?’ Noah asked.

‘It’s the first time we’ve met,’ Hannah chimed in.

‘Why not go to the snug?’ Daniel pointed to a wide arched opening off the reception area. ‘It’s got a bar and you can order food, but it’s more relaxed than the restaurant.’

‘Great,’ Noah said. ‘Then perhaps tomorrow we could arrange a tour of the hotel?’

‘Of course.’ Daniel scratched his cheek. ‘We’ve got the tree arriving, but not until later. How about ten o’clock?’

‘Ten sounds good,’ Hannah said. ‘And you’ve got the tree arriving? The Christmas tree?’ She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

Daniel gave her a rueful smile. ‘The first Saturday in December. I would have left it a bit later than that, but …’ He shrugged. ‘Sometimes I’m not as in charge here as I think I am.’ There was a glimmer in his eyes as he spoke.

‘You’re in partnership with someone?’ Noah asked. ‘Your questionnaire didn’t mention that. If it’s a company who have a say over any changes you’re planning to make—’

‘No, no,’ Daniel cut in, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘I meant that my girlfriend sticks her oar in, especially when it comes to festivities. She’d start Christmas in October if she could.’

‘I see.’ Noah set his jaw, clearly annoyed at misreading the situation.

‘I think the first Saturday in December is perfect,’ Hannah said, and Daniel grinned at her.

‘I have a feeling Charlie’s going to be saying “I told you so”. And I’d just like to point out that it’s a sustainable tree. In a pot, rooted, with a rehoming arranged for it up near Bodmin in the New Year.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ Noah said.

Hannah gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘I’d love to see my room now, if that’s OK? Noah, shall I meet you in the snug in twenty minutes?’

‘Sure – good to meet you, Daniel.’ He walked off towards the archway.

Daniel took Hannah’s suitcase and led her to the lift. ‘New colleague?’ he asked evenly as the doors opened and they stepped inside.

‘He’s one of the freelancers our company works with,’ Hannah said. ‘Gerald likes to have someone with local knowledge on each project where possible, and Noah’s got a lot of experience.’ She didn’t want to tell Daniel that this was her first case, and Noah was here to hold her hand.

‘Does he get more cheerful than that?’

Hannah shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Hopefully he’s just tired because I kept him waiting.’ She had to give Noah the benefit of the doubt. If she anticipated the whole week stretching ahead of them like this, then she might lock herself in her room and refuse to come out again.

Once Daniel had given her a quick tour of her sumptuous hotel room and wished her goodnight, Hannah sank onto the pale green bedcover and ran her hand over it. It was a perfect space. She had opened the curtains that ran the length of one wall and exposed the view and, with all but one lamp off, she could just make out the faintest glimmer of waves, like ghosts.

She got up and washed her face, hastily reapplied her eye make-up, sprayed on a waft of perfume to disguise whatever smells had accumulated over the course of her mammoth journey, and went to meet Noah. She would have to save the drench shower until later.

The Crystal Waters snug was beautiful and, as the name suggested, cosy. It had an array of low chairs and benches covered in grey and slate-blue fabrics, with scatter cushions in bolder colours. The tables were a mixture of wood and hammered metal, and long curtains were drawn across what Hannah assumed was another wall of glass facing the hotel’s gardens and the sea beyond. The bar was small but well stocked, with a gleaming silver top and a mirror behind the optics that made the space seem bigger.

Hannah sought Noah out among the room’s few occupants and found him sitting on a bench against the far wall, a mug in front of him.

He looked up as she approached, and for a moment she thought she saw real emotion – anxiety or uncertainty – in his eyes, before he gave her a brisk nod and gestured to the seat opposite him.

Hannah took it, inhaling the smell of coffee. She’d had enough caffeine on her train journey to last her until next Christmas.

‘All sorted?’ he asked.

‘Yes thanks. The room is glorious, as you’d expect. I’ve not done a full recce, but it looks as if the toiletries are already environmentally friendly.’

Noah put his hand on the table, his fingers inches from hers. ‘We don’t need to do any of that now. Have a look at the menu.’ He handed it to her and she glanced at it, choosing halloumi fries and sweet potato wedges. Once the waiter had taken their order and she had declined a glass of wine in favour of lemonade, a heavy, uncomfortable silence descended.

Before she could break it, Noah spoke. ‘Gerald says you’ve not been working at Green Futures long.’

‘I started in the summer,’ she said. ‘So I’m still finding my way around. This is my first client meeting – I’m sure he told you.’

‘He did. He said you were one to watch.’

Hannah narrowed her eyes. ‘As in, one to watch for the future, like they say about young nominees who fail to win at awards ceremonies, or as in, you’ll need to keep a constant eye on me so I don’t ruin the project?’

Noah’s grin was so sudden and overpowering, it was as if Hannah had been blinded. It knocked dimples into his cheeks, revealed white, even teeth and crinkled the edges of his blue eyes, making them seem softer. He looked completely different.

‘I think the former,’ he said, ‘even if failed nominee is a little harsh. He clearly thinks a lot of you, in that proprietorial sort of way where he imagines all your knowledge and talent is down to him.’

‘That is not the impression I had.’ Hannah thought back to Gerald’s initial reluctance to let her take the case.

Their drinks were brought over – Hannah’s lemonade and another coffee for Noah: black, with thick foam on the top. She wondered if he ever slept.

‘Why not?’ Noah asked, stirring his drink.

‘He took a bit of convincing to let me have the case. Your involvement, to be precise. But I am new, so I need to prove that I’m an invaluable member of the team.’ She smiled, keen to keep hold of his friendlier mood. ‘You said you live in Mousehole. That’s a fishing village isn’t it?’

‘That’s right, down near Penzance.’

‘How long have you lived there?’

‘All my life. Dad’s a fisherman and Mum runs a café except now it’s called the Mousehole Deli, just to meet all the outlandish expectations of the second-homers.’

‘Ooh really?’ Hannah’s stomach rumbled on cue. ‘I love a good deli. All those cheeses and meats from far-flung corners of Italy, olives with unlikely fillings, like sausage meat or beetroot. I’ve lost big chunks of my salary to a couple of delis in Edinburgh.’

‘You’ll have to visit while you’re here. Though I’m not sure it’ll live up to your expectations.’

‘Why not?’ Hannah asked as their food was brought over.

‘Because of your face,’ Noah said, accepting his bowl of mac and cheese. It looked delicious, the top perfectly golden and crunchy, tiny cherry tomatoes sliced and studded throughout, like rubies. She pushed down the urge to point out how hot they would be, to make sure he didn’t burn his mouth on their molten middles.

‘My face?’ she repeated.

‘You spoke about delicatessens as if they’re on some kind of higher plane, and your eyes went huge, which was faintly alarming because they’re already pretty big. You were reverent.’

‘Good food deserves reverence,’ Hannah mumbled. He’d gone from monosyllabic to grinning and noticing her eyes? They were one of her better features, according to her family and friends, large and deep brown, complementing her pale skin and naturally blonde hair. Like toffee pudding and custard, her mum had said once, knowing how much Hannah liked food analogies. She picked up a halloumi chip and dipped it in the spicy mayonnaise. ‘How’s your mac and cheese?’

‘Great,’ he admitted.

‘Good-oh.’ If he was going to be personal, so was she. ‘So, Noah, why aren’t you a fisherman? That’s quite often a generational thing, isn’t it? Dads handing down their boats and expertise, taking their children out to sea to learn the ropes, wearing yellow macs and wellies.’

She could see the tightness in his shoulders as he shrugged. ‘It didn’t work out that way. I love the water, I’m Cornwall through and through, but – when it came down to it – I realized it wasn’t how I wanted to spend my days. My skills are more observational, analytical. I’m not cut out for the fishing life.’

It didn’t seem to be a practised answer, which surprised her. She had assumed he must have been asked that question many times before. ‘Did your dad mind?’ she wondered.

‘At first.’ He ran his fork around the edge of his dish. ‘But it’s much harder than it was. Hard to scrape by, let alone make a good living, so I think he’s relieved I got out before it all went down the pan.’

‘But you stayed in Mousehole?’

‘It’s a great place to live.’ Now there was a slight defensiveness, as if this life choice had been questioned.

‘I’m looking forward to exploring it. Cornwall, I mean. When we’re not working.’ She flushed under his piercing blue gaze. ‘I’m here to work hard, first and foremost.’

Noah’s smile was soft. ‘I don’t doubt it. But I’d be disappointed if you didn’t want to get out and see some of the county in any spare time, as moreish as Crystal Waters is. I’d eat here again.’

‘We’re going to be spending most of our week here. We could have breakfast meetings, debriefs over lunch and end the day with a light dinner.’ She sighed happily, and Noah laughed.

‘And in between all those meals, do a bit of consulting on the side, see if we can get this place scoring top marks at its next environmental impact assessment.’

‘Oh that too,’ Hannah said. ‘I knew there was a reason I’d come all this way.’

Noah put his fork down and fiddled with his napkin. ‘What made you become an eco-consultant? You’re newly qualified, but I’m guessing it’s not been a straightforward path?’

‘Is that a kind way of saying I look older than twenty-one?’ She grinned, showing she wasn’t offended and Noah nodded. She didn’t go for the obvious answer: that she wanted to save the planet. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t wash with him, and she could never make it sound genuine anyway. ‘My dad, he … he’s always been a keen environmentalist.’

‘Oh? Is he a consultant?’

Hannah pictured him the last time she’d seen him. Long, unwashed hair in a straggly ponytail, jumper with holes in the elbows, that energetic restlessness, as clear a sign as any that he was just passing through.

‘No, he’s a campaigner.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve always felt strongly about it too, but I wasn’t sure which direction to head in.’ She had wanted to make her dad proud, but the thought of drifting, like him, filled her with a cold dread. ‘So I did a few admin jobs after school, worked in cafés and a couple of amazing restaurants, then went to university when I’d found the right course. Still, I don’t think twenty-eight is too late to have found your calling.’

He stared at her for a minute, then shook his head. ‘Not at all. Sometimes people don’t realize what they want to do until much later in life. Some don’t ever settle to one thing. We’re all different.’ He glanced at his watch and drained the last of his coffee. ‘I’d better head off, it’s getting late. I’ll settle up.’

‘You don’t need to.’

‘It’s fine. You can get the next one.’

‘Sure. Thank you, then. For coming to get me, and for this.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll aim for half nine, so we can go over Daniel’s questionnaire again before he shows us round.’

‘Sounds good.’ She watched as he went to the bar and paid the bill, then he gave her a quick salute and walked purposefully in the direction of the exit, towards his swanky hybrid Land Rover and a journey over dark, winding roads to home.

She wondered whether he had anyone waiting for him in Mousehole, and why, if he hadn’t wanted to discuss work, he’d suggested they meet this evening. Had he wanted to make up for his initial frostiness, realizing they needed to be on friendly terms if they were going to work well together? He had certainly warmed up once they’d started chatting, and she was feeling much more comfortable with him; less worried she’d be coming up against a brick wall every time she tried to communicate. A solid but impressive brick wall, she reasoned, remembering the way his shirt had hugged his slender but well-defined body.

Back in her room, Hannah lingered under the drench shower, then got into her pyjamas and slipped into the wide bed, pulling the cotton-wool soft duvet up to her neck. She felt drowsy and content, ready to make the most of her time in Cornwall. After all, Noah had said he would be disappointed if she didn’t get out and explore. And Noah, she had realized almost from the first moment she met him, was someone you didn’t want to disappoint. Or, at least, she didn’t want to disappoint him. As she drifted towards sleep, she wondered exactly why that was.

Chapter Three

After the best night’s sleep Hannah could remember having, she had sat back on her bed, clasping a cup of tea and watching the diving sea birds she couldn’t name, thinking how different it was to the monochrome view of Edinburgh’s rooftops she had from her city flat. At Crystal Waters, she felt almost as if she was on the edge of the world.

Arriving in the restaurant for breakfast, she gazed through the picture windows, wide-eyed at the stretch of Cornish coastline. The sea was grey and tumultuous beneath a sky where the dark clouds chased each other, full of rain and ready to spill. The restaurant was half full but she managed to get a table by the window, a bowl of fruit and yoghurt in her hand. There were several couples, a table of four – three women and a man in their fifties or sixties – who, judging by their thick jumpers and weather-worn faces, were seasoned walkers. She marvelled at anyone who wanted to walk at this time of year, but thought that with the reward of a cosy, fire-warmed bar and a mulled wine at the end, it might be worth it. There was a family of five, the youngest child in a high chair, the father patiently feeding his son food that was ending up everywhere but in his mouth.

When a waiter came to ask for her hot order, Hannah opted for smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on granary toast, then watched as the woman from last night’s check-in – Audrey – walked into the room. She was wearing black trousers covered in white daisies, and a burnt orange jumper that slipped lazily off one shoulder. She picked a table and sat down, opening a leather-bound journal before she even looked at the buffet table of cereals, juices and fruit. Hannah couldn’t help being intrigued by her, as well as a little envious of her bold style which, while slightly eccentric, definitely worked.

Hannah’s own outfit was burgundy wide-legged trousers and a black jumper, her blonde hair tied away from her face. She wanted to be professional but had thought, in this environment, a suit would be too formal. She wasn’t sure how the guests would react to suited and booted people walking around with iPads while they were on their way to the spa.

Hannah was glad when her breakfast arrived, and even happier when she tasted it. If all the food at Crystal Waters was like this then she would be reluctant to leave at the end of the week.

Noah met her in the snug at half past nine as arranged. She thought he looked slightly more relaxed today, a dark grey jumper over his shirt – perhaps he felt the same about not wanting to alarm the guests – and his dark curls not so severely waxed.

‘Sleep well?’ he asked, sitting down and pulling the bowl of sugar cubes towards him, twisting it round in what had to be an unconscious move.

‘Very,’ Hannah said. ‘Give me Crystal Waters beds and the sound of the sea outside my window every night. And then that breakfast, the buttery toast and those perfectly light, golden eggs—’

‘Stop,’ he groaned. ‘I should have taken your suggestion of a breakfast meeting seriously.’

‘It was serious,’ Hannah said, laughing. ‘What did you have?’

Noah wrinkled his nose. ‘I had to cut the edges off the bread to get rid of the blue bits.’

‘Noah! That is tragic. And your mum runs a deli, too.’ She shook her head. ‘We can get you something here.’

‘I’m fine, honestly. Let’s get going.’ He got out his iPad, and Hannah moved next to him so she was able to see the screen. ‘This is the questionnaire Daniel filled in. You’ve read it?’

‘I have.’ She scooted even closer, peering at the document. Noah smelled wonderful, a fresh scent like a mix of newly washed linen and something sharper, some exotic fruit. ‘He’s already doing pretty well, isn’t he?’ she added, to show she had taken in the details. ‘And he seems willing. Not a reluctant client.’

‘He’s on the right track,’ Noah agreed. ‘But there’s always room for improvement.’

Hannah nodded. She wondered if that was a standard line he used. She would have to learn all these, get herself thinking and speaking like a Green Futures champion.

Noah turned towards her. ‘If you were doing this by yourself, what would your first suggestions be? What could Daniel and Crystal Waters be doing now to reach their sustainability goals? The quick wins, and then the bigger, longer-term jobs. We should pool our ideas, then see what else we can add after the walk-round.’ He gave her a quick smile.

This was exactly what Hannah had hoped for. Noah seemed to get their unusual partnership: that she was the corporate face of Green Futures for this project, but also that she had so much to learn from him. Maybe her first impressions of him had been way off the mark.

The tour was enlightening, and Hannah felt privileged being allowed into every nook and cranny of the beautiful hotel. Daniel was an easy, relaxed guide, pointing out where they collected rainwater to use in the gardens, and the new range of spa treatments they were using after a course he’d been on earlier that year suggested them as an eco-friendly alternative.

‘If you’ve been on that, then why did you want to employ consultants?’ Noah asked. ‘Not that I’m suggesting you shouldn’t have: I think you’ve made the right decision. I’m just interested.’

‘I got a lot of useful information from the course,’ Daniel said. ‘But I felt that if I launched into the changes they suggested – and some of them are pretty huge, like solar panels and an entirely new air-filtration system – it’d be too piecemeal. I can’t see it as one big project by myself – I need you to give me an action plan, tell me where to start. There’s no point doing it more than once.’

Noah folded his arms. ‘You’ve got the right attitude, you’ve already taken steps and, along with the fact that this is a new hotel – four years?’

‘That’s how long it’s been open,’ Daniel confirmed. ‘There was a building here before Crystal Waters, a Victorian place called the Clifftop Hotel, but there was so much wrong with it that I basically had to start again. Built it up from the ground, dug extra foundations. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it.’

‘I’m not sensing any kind of Victorian vibe,’ Hannah said. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It feels modern, but also classic, somehow. It’s not sterile like some of those new business hotels, is it?’

‘Sterile wasn’t a theme on my mood board.’ Daniel looked amused.

‘We’re starting in a good place,’ Noah reiterated. ‘Shall we move on to the kitchens?’

Hannah wouldn’t announce it to either of her companions, but the kitchens of any building were her favourite place, and after the breakfast she’d had, along with the halloumi chips and wedges the night before, she’d been particularly looking forward to this part of the tour.

‘This is Levi.’ Daniel introduced them to a wide-chested man with a shock of white-blond hair, wearing chef’s whites. ‘He’s our head chef. We tailor our menu around what’s available locally and seasonally – but I don’t want to steal Levi’s thunder.’

‘Great to meet you,’ Levi said, his Cornish accent much broader than Noah’s, his huge hand swallowing Hannah’s as they shook. His grin was equally expansive, and Hannah found herself warming to him as he took them through his domain, showing them where they’d made small changes, asking what they could do on a larger scale, while Daniel stood back and watched. Hannah liked the way he let his employees shine, allowing them to show off their expertise.

By the time their tour of the hotel was over, Hannah’s head was full of all the delicious dishes she wanted to try, rather than all the things she needed to add to her report.

‘Shall we take an hour for lunch and then meet back here?’ Noah asked as they stood in reception, the reversing beep of a lorry cutting through the serenity.

‘Sounds good. I’m going into the village – did you want to come?’

Noah shook his head. He seemed distracted, his eyes alighting on her and then drifting off, his tight focus of earlier gone. ‘I’ve got to make a few calls – nothing to do with this project,’ he added, perhaps worried Hannah would think he was reporting back to Gerald. ‘I’ll see you in an hour.’

‘OK,’ Hannah said, the time opening up with possibilities. She would have lots of opportunities to eat in the hotel’s restaurant, and Daniel had told them that the food markets she’d seen on the website for the Cornish Cream Tea Bus took place even in December. There was no way she was missing that.

She filled her lungs with crisp, cold air as she strode down the hill into Porthgolow. The cove was spread out below her, the slate of the sea and sky contrasting with the vibrancy of the beach, a section of which was packed with food trucks, marquees and vans and, at the centre of it, the gleaming red double-decker bus. Bunting, strung around the top floor, flapped madly in the wind, and as Hannah got closer the chatter and laughter got louder, the occasional scent wafting through the air to meet her.

The seafront was quaint and pretty, a convenience store called the Pop-In looking like a relic from the past, its windows crammed with seaside treasures: buckets and spades, fishing nets and postcards, brightly coloured flip-flops that wouldn’t be her first choice of footwear in December. The bed and breakfast next door looked cosy and inviting, with a poinsettia in the window and the gleaming brass knocker crying out for someone to give it a smart rap.

The aromas from the market were delicious, and Hannah had a moment of panic that she wouldn’t possibly be able to choose from all the delicacies on offer, but her panic subsided as she realized how Christmassy everything was. The familiar strains of Wizzard’s ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day’ reached her, waking up a familiar, deep-rooted excitement, and twinkling lights or drapes of tinsel adorned every vehicle. An illuminated Santa Claus sat precariously on top of a tiny Citroën van selling coffee, and she could smell the spice of mulled wine, the tang of frying onions, her senses fully, happily overwhelmed. But nothing was drawing her attention as much as the Cornish Cream Tea Bus.

Inside, it was both simple and inviting, the crockery, teapots and vases red and blue, a tiny but smart kitchen area at the front of the bus, cake stands in the windows full of appetizing treats. Fairy lights winked round the ceiling, above tables that were all full, the chatter from the top deck suggesting it was the same up there.

A woman in the kitchen was putting pots of jam and cream on a plate alongside a golden scone, her red hair pulled back in a short ponytail, redder apron on over a sky blue jumper. Hannah hovered, wondering whether to look for a table upstairs, and the woman caught her eye.

‘Give me two secs – I’ve just got to serve these.’ She gave Hannah a warm smile and slipped deftly past her, carrying her tray up the narrow staircase.

Hannah stayed where she was, feeling awkward, until the woman returned.

‘How can I help you?’ she asked. ‘We’re full at the moment, but if you’re happy to wait five minutes we should have a table free. Or I can get you something to take away?’ She looked at her expectantly while Hannah dithered. Her hour was ticking quickly away.

‘I think …’ She was at a loss as to what to do.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I am!’ Hannah said quickly. ‘Just trying to make a decision. I don’t want to miss out on one of your cream teas, but perhaps I should come back when it’s quieter.’

‘Do you live nearby?’

‘I’m staying up at the hotel – Crystal Waters. I’m on my lunch break, so I can’t wait too long for a table.’

The woman glanced behind her, then returned her attention to Hannah. ‘You’re staying at Crystal Waters, but you’re on a lunch break? Is it a working holiday, or are you just very strict with yourself?’ She smiled.

‘Sorry,’ Hannah said, laughing, ‘I can see how strange that sounds. I’m working at the hotel. The owner, Daniel Harper, has …’ She hesitated, unsure if she should tell this woman why she was there. Being environmentally minded wasn’t something to hide, but it was Daniel’s decision if he told the villagers what he was planning. ‘It’s not important. What is important, is that—’

‘You’re one of the green guys!’ the woman said delightedly. ‘Amazing! I wondered when I’d get to meet you.’

‘You know about us?’ Hannah asked.

‘Daniel said you’d checked in last night, that you were doing a tour this morning. It’s going OK?’

‘It is, but—’

‘Oh, sorry! It’s my turn to confuse you. I’m Charlie Quilter. I own this beautiful bus, and I’m also Daniel Harper’s other half. I know more than most about what happens at Crystal Waters.’

‘Ah!’ Hannah grinned as things slotted into place. ‘You’ve insisted on the tree going up today.’

Charlie laughed. ‘I have. And Daniel’s got this beautiful net of gold lights to hang over the large window in reception, too. He needs a bit of encouragement, and he’ll draw a firm line at anything remotely tacky, but he’s learning to appreciate the sparklier things in life.’

‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m Hannah, by the way. Hannah Swan. And the tour was great. I think we’re going to work well together; that’s me, Noah – my colleague – and Daniel.’ She hoped she sounded professional.

‘I’m glad,’ Charlie replied. ‘And you should come back when it’s quieter. I’ll treat you to a full cream tea, but food market days are always busy – which I’m not complaining about!’

‘I’d love that, thank you. I’d better grab something and head back.’

‘It’s not Daniel setting you a strict time limit, is it?’ Charlie folded her arms. ‘If so, I’ll have words.’

Hannah laughed again. ‘No, it’s Noah. But it’s actually more sensible than he realizes, otherwise I’d spend hours down here, eating my way through the entire market.’

‘The choice is pretty mind-blowing. I hope you find something to your taste, and maybe I’ll see you at the hotel later, when I come to help decorate the tree?’

‘Not leaving that up to Daniel, then?’ Hannah grinned.

‘Not a chance. Lovely to meet you, Hannah.’

‘You too.’

She left the bus with a spring in her step. So the hotelier and the owner of the Cornish Cream Tea Bus were together. Porthgolow was already proving to be charming and intriguing, and Hannah had been here less than a day. She wanted to fully immerse herself in all the things that made it different from home. She couldn’t imagine visiting two Edinburgh businesses in one day and discovering that one owner was going out with the other: keeping secrets in Porthgolow must be a nightmare.

Wandering through the stalls, she eventually decided on a burrito, watching as the shredded beef, bean and rice mix was topped with generous dollops of sour cream, salsa, guacamole and grated cheese, before being expertly wrapped and encased in foil. She held it in both hands, relishing the heat radiating from it as she made her way to the quieter part of the beach.

The water was grey and choppy, foam bubbling where it spilled onto the sand. A man was walking a Dalmatian in the shallows, but other than that the activity was behind her, the cold kept at bay with burgers, cups of tea and the shelter of the vehicles.

Out here, it was exposed but beautiful. To her right the beach curved gently, Crystal Waters sitting like a gleaming lighthouse on top of the cliff. She wondered if the golden Christmas lights Charlie had mentioned would be visible out at sea; whether fishing boats like the one Noah’s father must own covered this part of the coastline.

To her left the beach also curved – it was a perfect, crescent cove – but the run of the shore was interrupted by a stone jetty, two speedboats tethered there. Beyond that, where the cliffs cut off the sand, there was a low promontory stretching out into the water, and a building sitting right on the edge. It was a tiny yellow house, quaint and precarious, like something out of a fairytale. Hannah forgot about her delicious burrito, because something about that house was tripping up her thoughts.

It wasn’t that it was yellow, or that it looked incongruous propped on a thin sliver of rock, as if it could be knocked straight off by a careless wave. There was something familiar about it. Something that sparked a memory in the recesses of her mind, that made her think of ice creams and sandcastles and the sharp sting of sunburnt shoulders. Hannah was sure, in that second, that she had seen the little yellow house before.

Chapter Four

Hannah didn’t remember finishing her burrito. She was vaguely aware of glancing at her watch and realizing her hour was almost up, turning away from the sea and threading her way back through the food market. It was the sight of Charlie’s bus that returned her to her senses, reminding her what she was supposed to be doing. She peered behind her, but the yellow house was out of view. She needed to get back to Noah.

She turned abruptly and almost bumped into a man clutching a bag of fudge. Hannah loved fudge. She tracked down the stall and bought three packets – coconut for Saskia, chocolate orange for herself, and clotted cream for Noah. She had no idea what he liked, whether he was a fudge person at all, but it seemed wrong to return from the market with news of the burrito and the bus and Charlie, and not take him anything.

The walk up the hill was hard, but halfway up Hannah was rewarded because, when she turned to look back towards the sea, she could see the yellow house again. There couldn’t be many buildings like that, and she was convinced she wasn’t inventing her recognition, piecing things together wrongly from a picture she had seen on the internet. The feelings that went with it were stronger than that, something shifting deep inside her.

She walked into Crystal Waters’ reception with five minutes to spare. Two men were adjusting the position of the low sofa in front of the giant window, presumably to make space for the tree.

Hannah hurried to her room, flung her coat on the bed and took her diary out of her suitcase. It was a pink, fake snakeskin Filofax that her mum had bought her over a decade ago, at a time when she’d been desperate for a means of organizing her life, a place in which she could write all her secrets, hiding notes and photos between the pages. Now it was mostly defunct because of her phone, but she couldn’t bear to part with it.

She took out the photos that lived in the slip at the back. There was one of her and her dad, just before he’d gone off on one of his eco-warrior trips to some far-flung part of the world, his frame thinner than Hannah’s, his blond hair unruly and his face tanned. Hannah thought her eyes looked slightly haunted, her smile fixed, but that could simply be hindsight: there had been so many absences since then. He had sent a message, via her brother Michael, that he might be in Scotland for Christmas, but she knew to take those nuggets of possibility with a pinch of salt – he hardly ever stuck to his plans. Even so, she hoped that she would see him at some point, not least so she could tell him about Green Futures.

The second photo was of a group of her friends at their favourite bar in Edinburgh. Saskia was grinning at the camera, Seth’s arm slung lazily around Hannah’s shoulders, oblivious to the effect he had on her. She dropped the picture onto the bed and dug her fingers inside the tight pocket, pulling out the third and final photograph.

It was her, her mum and Michael on a beach, and it was faded, the colours leeched to pastel hues. She had been about six, Mike eight, her mum’s hair curly and flyaway in an invisible breeze. Hannah was crouching at her mum’s feet, guarding the sandcastle she had built. Behind them, the sand stretched into the distance, the sea sliding into view on the right of the photo. Then, in the top corner of the picture, so small as to be almost unnoticeable, a yellow house sat proudly on a rocky foundation.

Hannah let out a long, slow breath. It was the same house. It had to be. And she knew that, when she was the age in the photograph, they’d had summer holidays in Cornwall. She needed to hold the photo up against the house to be sure, to find the exact spot on the beach so she could compare the captured memory with reality.

Her phone pinged with a message from Noah:

Coming? N.

On my way, she tapped out. She left the photograph on the bed and picked up her iPad, her room key and Noah’s fudge. As she made her way upstairs, another thought struck her. It had always been just the three of them on those Cornish holidays – her mum, Mike and her. She remembered that much, despite being so young. So who had taken the photo?

‘OK?’ Noah asked, when she reached the snug. He was frowning, tapping his fingers on the table.

‘Fine.’ She gave him a bright smile as she sat opposite him. ‘A present from the food market.’ She proffered the bag of fudge, which was tied up with red and green ribbon.

‘For me?’ Noah looked startled, picking up the bag as if it was full of diamonds rather than sugar. ‘Why? I mean … thank you. Thank you, that’s very kind.’

Hannah thought he looked genuinely perplexed, and felt a mixture of amusement and pity. Did nobody buy him spontaneous presents? ‘I couldn’t go there and not come back with something. It was amazing. I had the most delicious burrito.’

Noah leaned towards her, his face serious. ‘Careful,’ he murmured. ‘You don’t want Crystal Waters to know you’ve been cheating, and after less than a day, too.’

Hannah laughed. ‘Good point. We will only talk about the food market in whispered tones. But did you know that Charlie, the woman who runs the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, is Daniel Harper’s girlfriend? She’s the one making him put the Christmas decorations up today. She’s coming here later to help.’

‘If you want to get involved in that then we’d better get on with this.’ He tapped his iPad and it opened up the music app and started playing a song, male voices and a guitar, at full volume. ‘Shit.’ He fumbled at the screen, his cheeks reddening, and closed the app down. ‘Not that, obviously. We’d better get on with this.’ He swiped to the right app and brought up his notes.

Hiding her smile, Hannah ordered a pot of Assam tea for them both. Noah seemed softer, vulnerable almost, when he was embarrassed, and she felt herself warming to him a little more.

After several hours and two more pots of tea, Hannah sat back in her chair and blinked furiously. The curtains had been pulled across the huge window, indicating that while they’d been listing all the ways Crystal Waters was excelling as an eco-hotel, and the actions Daniel and Green Futures could take together to improve on it, the daylight had faded. It was after four, and both her and Noah’s focus was waning. There were only three bits of fudge left, for one thing.

‘We’ve made good progress.’ Noah took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. ‘And we’ve definitely done enough work for a Saturday.’

‘Agreed,’ Hannah said. ‘Do you want to carry on tomorrow?’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t – I hope you don’t mind? I know you’re only here for a week, but we’ve got a head start, so Monday should be fine. As long as you don’t feel you’re wasting time?’

‘Not at all.’ Hannah thought of what she could do with a whole day to herself. There was the spa and the swimming pool to visit, for starters, then the rest of the village. The Cornish Cream Tea Bus would be on the beach even though the food market was over, not to mention the small matter of the yellow house that she was almost certain was in the background of her photograph. ‘I’m sure I’ll find some things to amuse me.’

‘Good. And well done,’ he added, ‘if that doesn’t sound too patronizing. You’ve got some great ideas about how to improve the sustainability of this place. I’m impressed.’

Hannah grinned. ‘I’m glad I’m stepping up to the mark.’

‘I’d better get going.’ His gaze lingered on her face, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something else, but then a loud ‘whoop’ went up from reception, and Hannah was up and out of her chair in a second.

She stopped in the doorway, gasping as she took in the sight of a large Christmas tree being carried horizontally by two men, its vibrant green branches reaching like tendrils into every corner, brushing the screens that scrolled through a slideshow of the hotel’s highlights, fingering the pebble-shaped coffee table. The light-wall that Charlie had mentioned was covering the window, but it wasn’t switched on, the glass bulbs shimmering like diamonds rather than gold.

‘Is it definitely going to fit?’ asked a familiar voice, and Hannah spotted Charlie behind the tree, her hands clasped together in front of her.

‘I’ve measured it,’ Daniel said. ‘It’s going to fit.’

‘OK then.’ Charlie gave him a smile that suggested she didn’t entirely believe him.

There was a high-pitched yelp from somewhere and Hannah jumped, pressing a hand against her chest.

‘This looks like it might be entertaining.’ Noah stopped beside her, his arm lightly brushing hers.

‘It’s going to look magnificent,’ Hannah sighed.

The tree was manoeuvred forward, revealing the source of the yelp. A small black and tan dog was positively vibrating with excitement, its lead wrapped around Charlie’s arm, forcing it to stay close to her.

Charlie noticed Hannah and smiled. ‘What do you think?’

‘Very impressive,’ Hannah said. ‘It’s going to look wonderful when it’s decorated.’

‘That’s the theory.’ Daniel folded his arms and watched as the two men nudged and cajoled the tree into place.

‘Charlie,’ Hannah said, ‘this is my colleague, Noah. Noah, this is Charlie. She runs the Cornish Cream Tea Bus.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ Noah held out his hand for her to shake.

‘Daniel said you were local,’ Charlie said. ‘Mousehole?’

‘That’s right. Not too far.’

‘Far enough when it’s dark and miserable outside. Do you want to stay for some spiced apple – if you’re driving – and mince pies? There’s going to be Christmas music too, while we decorate.’

‘I’m sure Hannah and Noah don’t want to help you decorate the tree,’ Daniel said. ‘They’ve been working all day.’

‘Yes, Daniel,’ Charlie replied, squeezing his arm as he joined them, ‘but some people love Christmas: being festive and silly, putting up baubles and tinsel. They don’t see it as work.’ Daniel gave her a sideways look.

‘Who’s this?’ Hannah asked, crouching to greet the dog, who pawed at her enthusiastically. ‘He’s adorable.’

‘This is Marmite,’ Charlie said. ‘My barmy Yorkipoo.’

‘Who is not going to help decorate the tree,’ Daniel added. ‘He’ll derail the whole thing.’

‘I can’t miss that,’ Hannah said. ‘And I never say no to a mince pie.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ Noah murmured. She turned to glare up at him, but he was smiling and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him off – not when those blue eyes held hers so completely. And she was a self-confessed foodie.

‘Are you staying for a spiced apple?’ she asked.

‘I might be persuaded,’ he said.

‘Excellent.’ Hannah hoped her delight wasn’t too obvious. ‘I’ll just go and put my iPad away. Back in a couple of minutes.’

Hannah couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed anything as much as she was enjoying decorating the Crystal Waters Christmas tree with Charlie, Daniel, Noah and Marmite. The decorations were in varying shades of gold and blue, which proved to be a beautifully elegant colour combination, and completely in fitting with the design and furnishings of the hotel. The tree suppliers had checked the large Scots Pine was secure before giving Daniel an invoice and leaving him to it, and he’d seemed much happier since they’d gone and he could climb up a ladder and start working from the top down.

‘He likes being in charge,’ Charlie said to Hannah as they watched him place a glittering golden star on top of the tree, Mariah Carey singing about what she wanted for Christmas in the background. ‘He’s a doer rather than a director.’

‘I get that impression about you too,’ Hannah said.

Charlie laughed. ‘And you’d be right. But heights aren’t my thing. I’m happy for Daniel to be up there.’

Noah also had a special role, which was keeping Marmite out of trouble. The dog was enamoured with him, and from the way Noah was tickling Marmite’s tummy and playing tug-of-war with an edible stick, his spiced apple forgotten, it was clear the feeling was mutual. Hannah could see the cracks in his armour: the smiles, the humour, the affection for furry creatures, all of which had seemed entirely unlikely when he’d picked her up from the station.

Every time a hotel or spa guest walked into the foyer, Daniel invited them to hang a decoration, and most of them were delighted, a few clearly nervous about getting it right. Hannah felt like an insider. She wasn’t sure if it was her role as eco-consultant, or the fact that Charlie had been so friendly towards her at the food festival, but whatever it was, it meant she could help decorate one of the most impressive Christmas trees she’d ever seen, so she wasn’t going to complain.

‘Oh goodness,’ said a voice, ‘I am so sorry!’ Hannah turned to see Audrey step hastily away from the ladder, then change her mind and lunge forward, grabbing hold of it. ‘Are you OK? I haven’t unsettled you?’

‘No harm done,’ Daniel said smoothly, though the look on his face suggested it had been a close call. ‘Are you OK?’

Audrey rubbed her shoulder. ‘Yes, fine. I didn’t mean to … I should watch where I’m going.’ She waved the book she was holding, and Hannah caught sight of the title: A History of West Cornwall: Shipwrecks and Stagecoaches in the Victorian Era.

‘Are you a historian?’ Hannah asked.

Audrey smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘I am, of a sort. I’m a research associate, and I’m writing a book about England’s most haunted hotels. Actually, no,’ she corrected, as Daniel made a noise – a grunt or a gasp – from the top of the ladder. ‘I’m finishing a book, on behalf of a friend.’

‘You’re writing about haunted hotels?’ Charlie asked, clearly intrigued. Even Noah had stopped playing with Marmite to listen.

‘That’s right.’ She pushed her glasses up her nose. She seemed nervous now all the attention was on her.

‘But not this one,’ Daniel said, coming down the ladder. ‘This building’s only been here a few years.’

‘Yes, that is a shame.’ Audrey looked around, as if surprised by the modern surroundings. ‘But there’s still potential.’

‘What do you mean, potential?’ There was an unmistakable edge to Daniel’s voice.

‘The Clifftop Hotel that stood here before Crystal Waters,’ Audrey continued. ‘It was reputedly haunted, and that’s what my friend, Richard, was working on. I didn’t realize the old hotel would be entirely gone when I booked. I thought some of the original building might remain.’

‘It was falling down,’ Daniel said. ‘It was unsafe. I had to get rid of it and start again.’

‘I do understand that, Mr Harper,’ Audrey replied, unruffled. ‘And in fact, it might well not matter. I hadn’t intended to do it this way,’ she added, glancing at each of them in turn, ‘but I would love to sit down with you all at some point, to find out about your experiences here, if there’s anything unusual you’ve witnessed.’

‘Oh, we’re just guests,’ Hannah said reluctantly. ‘We’ve only been here a day.’

‘There’s nothing,’ Daniel said firmly. ‘No unusual experiences.’ He was being polite, but Hannah could see it was an effort.

Charlie squeezed his arm, and he turned to look at her. ‘Daniel?’ She said it softly, but he shook his head, as if warning her not to say anything else.

A chill – part excitement, part terror – ran down Hannah’s spine. In Edinburgh she was surrounded by history, the past right on her doorstep, and sometimes shoved in her face. There were at least a million ghosts in the city, if all the stories and nightly walks were to be believed.

She didn’t discount the idea that ghosts existed, that tragic moments in people’s lives sometimes played over and over, like a recording stuck on repeat, but she had never explored the idea, or how she really felt about it. She’d never been on a serious ghost hunt, never seen anything spooky herself, hadn’t done more than laugh and squeal in the appropriate places on a tour that ended in Edinburgh’s underground vaults. However, the thought that this glimmering, plush hotel might have dark secrets and voices whispering in corners was highly appealing. Ghost stories at Christmas were obligatory, but she had never imagined stumbling on one that might be real.

‘OK then,’ Charlie said, her gaze not leaving Daniel’s.

‘I haven’t seen anything,’ he reiterated. ‘The occasional flickering light is expected in a building this size, especially when the storms kick off. It’s not paranormal.’

Charlie didn’t say anything, and Daniel shifted uncomfortably.

‘And I imagined those voices in my office. It was late, I was alone apart from the night staff, and I was tired. The hotel buzzes with activity so much of the day, it makes sense that my mind would play tricks on me. It didn’t mean anything, Charlie.’

Audrey had tucked her book under her arm and opened a notebook. She was trying to scribble notes while the pad did its best to snap closed on her. Hannah wanted to point out that she could lean on the pebble-shaped table, but was reluctant to interrupt the conversation. She glanced at Noah and he raised his eyebrows, which gave her no insight into how he felt about the possibility of sharing their up-and-coming eco-hotel with some ghosts.

‘This is very interesting,’ Audrey said. ‘Very interesting. Would you be happy to go through your experiences with me in detail? When did they happen, exactly?’

‘No.’ Daniel shook his head. ‘I’m sorry Ms Benson, but there is no chance this hotel’s haunted. It’s less than five years old!’ His laughter sounded forced.

‘What about the footsteps?’ piped up a voice, and everyone turned to the reception desk, and the young, freckled woman who had checked Hannah in the previous evening.

‘Chloe,’ Daniel said. ‘Now is not—’

‘They happen every night,’ Chloe continued, wide eyes showing that she was loving the drama. ‘Eleven thirteen on the dot. I’ve been on lates recently, so I know. And they run. Right across the room, from over there.’ She pointed to the corner where the shimmering Christmas tree stood. ‘All the way over here, then behind us. It’s like whoever it is goes through the desk, as if it didn’t exist. It stops when it gets to your office, Daniel.’

‘Where you heard voices that time,’ Charlie said gently.

‘And sometimes,’ Chloe went on, ‘there’s this draught as the footsteps go past, you know? Like whoosh.’ She swiped her hand past her face. ‘It’s why Kevin wanted to swap with me. He didn’t want to do lates because it scared him.’

‘This is wonderful,’ Audrey said.

‘I thought Kevin wanted to swap because the bus timetable changed and he couldn’t get home if he did lates.’ Daniel was sounding increasingly exasperated, and Hannah’s heart went out to him. Clearly, a haunted hotel was not as appealing a marketing strategy as an eco-hotel.

‘That’s what he told you,’ Chloe said boldly, ‘because he didn’t want you to think he was a wuss.’

‘I wouldn’t have …’ Daniel started, then sighed. He rubbed his hands over his face and Hannah heard him mutter, ‘For fuck’s sake.’

‘This is all a bit unexpected,’ Charlie said, her tone soothing but authoritative. ‘Audrey, what are your plans for the book? I assume you’ll write about the history and any present-day … hauntings.’ She glanced at Daniel, then slipped her hand into his. ‘Will that make up one part of the book?’

‘One chapter,’ Audrey confirmed, looking up from her notebook. ‘I’m very encouraged by this promising activity.’

‘I’m not,’ Daniel murmured.

‘But I do appreciate this may not be ideal for you, Mr Harper,’ she continued. ‘I’ll be discreet. Would you be happy for me to speak to your employees? Kevin and …’

‘Chloe!’ Chloe gave a little wave. ‘You can always hang out with me until eleven thirteen this evening and hear them for yourself.’

‘Oh, I will undoubtedly be doing that, if Mr Harper sanctions me to run a low-level investigation.’

Daniel didn’t reply immediately, and everyone turned towards him. Hannah realized she was holding her breath. She wanted him to say yes. She wondered if Chloe would let her stay in reception until eleven thirteen. She supposed she couldn’t stop her.

‘Ms Benson,’ he said eventually. ‘Please, call me Daniel. Perhaps we could have a chat over coffee tomorrow. You can tell me your plans while you’re here and I can see how best to … accommodate you. How does that sound?’

‘That’s most generous of you,’ Audrey said, beaming. ‘And please call me Audrey. Now, I must dash. I don’t want to miss my reservation in the restaurant – I can’t wait to try the hake!’ She wished them all good evening and strode away, her history book under her arm, her notebook still open in her hand, as if she might need to write something down any second.

Once she had gone, Daniel spun to face Charlie. ‘Ghosts? Ghosts, now? She can’t be serious.’

‘We’ve all heard it, Daniel,’ Chloe said. ‘Sorry, but it’s true. And you said yourself you’ve had some stuff happen, so you can’t totally disbelieve us.’ Hannah wished she had the same unfiltered confidence as the young receptionist.

‘I don’t disbelieve you, Chloe,’ he replied. ‘I could just do without this right now. And please, all of you, don’t mention it to anyone else. I don’t want it going further than the staff and … Hannah and Noah – you’re happy to keep it quiet, too?’

‘Of course,’ Hannah said.

‘I won’t breathe a word,’ Noah agreed.

‘Good. Thank you. Not everyone loves the idea of their holiday destination being haunted.’

‘You were very nice to her, eventually,’ Charlie said. ‘And wouldn’t you like to hear a bit more of the history of the old hotel? See what might be causing all this … stuff?’

‘Other than tired minds, faulty light fittings and dodgy air-conditioning units?’ Daniel shrugged. ‘Hopefully nothing. And fingers crossed, the changes Noah and Hannah are going to help us make will get rid of them for good.’

‘Better an eco-hotel than an ecto-hotel, right, Daniel?’ Chloe called.

Daniel gave her a bemused look.

Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘You know, ectoplasm? You have seen Ghostbusters, haven’t you?’

Daniel shook his head, but his mouth was lifting at the corners. ‘That, Chloe, was a terrible joke. Beyond terrible.’

Chloe gave a little curtsey.

‘Come on everyone,’ he said. ‘Back to the tree, otherwise we’ll still be doing it when our invisible occupant makes an appearance. I hope he doesn’t knock it down, that’s all I can say. If people who died centuries ago start interfering with Christmas at this hotel, after all the effort we’ve put into it, then Audrey is going to have to do more than write about them in her book – she’s going to have to find us a bloody exorcist.’

He climbed the ladder again, tension visible in his shoulders.

Hannah exchanged a glance with Noah and then looked at Charlie, who had her fingers pressed over her lips, her gaze on Daniel. Hannah thought that whatever the couple had prepared for in the run up to Christmas, it was unlikely to have been this. But as much as she felt sorry for Daniel, she wasn’t entirely disappointed at the turn of events. She dropped to a crouch and buried her face in Marmite’s warm fur, hiding her smile.

Chapter Five

It was late when they all declared the tree fully decorated, and after standing for a moment in reverential silence and staring at it, the gold fairy lights fading on and off and making the whole thing sparkle magnificently, Noah reluctantly handed Marmite back to Charlie and said goodnight. Hannah walked him out to his car.

‘That wasn’t exactly in our remit,’ she said, hugging herself. It was so cold, but the air was crisp and sea-scented, and the densely scattered stars winked mesmerizingly above them. ‘It was fun, though.’

‘You should go in.’ Noah reached out and touched her arm, as if checking her temperature, then leaned against the bonnet as if he had no intention of leaving immediately. ‘You’ll freeze to death.’

‘So will you,’ she pointed out. ‘That jumper looks thin.’ She didn’t add that she’d come to that conclusion because of the way it hugged his muscles, and that the effect was quite distracting, especially when it was a choice between looking at them, and looking at graphs on an iPad. ‘Marmite’s great, isn’t he?’ she added.

He nodded. ‘I love dogs. Mum and Dad have got three: Albert, Rodney and Del Boy. No prizes for guessing where the names came from.’

Hannah laughed. ‘What kind of dogs are they?’

‘Pointers,’ Noah said. ‘They take up most of the house and need about three walks a day, so they sort of belong to the village. Neighbours are always pitching in, taking them to the beach or further afield.’

‘Communal pets! Are they affectionate?’

‘Very.’ The smile Noah gave her was pure indulgence. ‘If you make it to Mousehole you’ll need an introduction.’

‘I’d love that,’ she said sincerely, overjoyed that Noah had thawed enough to almost invite her to his village. ‘What do you think of the ghost stuff?’

He gave a short laugh. ‘I think that Daniel’s in for a tough ride if he’s assuming he can sweep it under the carpet. Audrey and Chloe alone are a force to be reckoned with.’

‘And …?’

‘And I’m going to make sure that one day this week I’m here late enough to experience those footsteps for myself. I’m tempted tonight, but I’ve got an early start tomorrow and I won’t be popular if I’m not at my brightest.’

‘Oh,’ Hannah said, ‘then I’d better let you go. But I’d be up for ghost hunting with you whenever you fancy it. As long as we don’t let on to Daniel that we’re buying into the whole thing.’

‘Of course not.’ Noah opened the car door. ‘But a word of warning, Hannah,’ he said, turning back to face her. ‘Client visits don’t usually involve Christmas-tree decorating and impromptu hauntings. Just in case you were thinking that every project with Green Futures was likely to be this interesting.’

‘Understood.’ She nodded, matching his faux-serious tone. ‘It must be something about Porthgolow. I’ll lower my expectations for future cases.’

‘Good idea. But obviously …’ he paused, looking at her closely, as if he could gauge her response to what he was about to say before he spoke.

‘Obviously what?’ she asked with a laugh.

‘Make the most of everything while you’re here.’

She nodded, unsure how to reply. There was something about the way he’d said it that made her skin prickle. ‘Oh, I intend to,’ she said, with more gusto than she felt.

‘See you on Monday, Hannah.’ He climbed in and shut the Land Rover door, gave her a final wave and drove out of the car park.

She went inside, grateful for the hotel’s blast of warmth, and said goodnight to Chloe.

‘You’re welcome to hang about for another half an hour if you want?’ Chloe said. ‘You know, to hear the ghost? I think we should give him a name. The more real we make it, the more likely Daniel is to believe it.’

‘I’m not sure Daniel is ready to embrace the ghost,’ Hannah replied. ‘Maybe once he’s talked to Audrey he’ll change his mind. I’m off to bed now, but I’ll take you up on that offer another night.’

They said their goodbyes and Hannah went back to her room. Once there, she found she couldn’t sleep. Her mind kept replaying her last exchange with Noah. Not just the softening of his demeanour, the jokes and the puppy love, but the suggestion that he believed the stories. He was eager to experience the ghostly goings-on for himself. She realized that was why she’d turned Chloe down: she had been half an hour away from a possible ghostly encounter, but she didn’t want to have it without Noah.

The week ahead no longer felt like a simple work trip, but one with huge potential. She wasn’t sure she believed Chloe’s story, and Daniel was convinced his own experiences had a mundane explanation, but she was determined to keep an open mind. If there was going to be a ghost hunt at the hotel, she wanted to be part of it.

Her eyes fell on her Filofax, and the photographs she hadn’t put away. The yellow house had slipped from her thoughts, but there it was, sitting perched behind her family in a faded picture from her past. Audrey wasn’t going to be the only one looking into the history of Porthgolow over the coming days: Hannah had some investigating to do herself.

She had a light breakfast on Sunday morning, eschewing the various cooked options because of where she was headed next. She had warmed instantly to Charlie, had loved helping to decorate the Christmas tree, and was keen to spend time getting to know the owner of the fabulous Routemaster while she was here.

When she stepped outside the hotel, the wind was flinging rain in every direction, as if falling straight to the ground wasn’t dramatic enough. Hannah pulled up her hood and hurried down the hill to the soundtrack of waves crashing against the shore.

She stepped onto the bus, subtly festive with its twinkling fairy lights, and Charlie grinned at her.

‘Hannah! It’s lovely to see you. You and Noah aren’t working today?’

‘Noah had somewhere else to be,’ Hannah said. ‘A family thing, maybe.’

‘You shouldn’t be working on a Sunday anyway.’ Charlie gestured to a table. Hannah could see Marmite in the driver’s cab, scrabbling to get out now there was someone else to stroke him.

‘You are,’ Hannah said, laughing. She waved at Marmite and he barked.

‘But I’m in the tourist industry. Sundays are one of our busiest days.’ She looked around the deserted bus and shrugged. ‘Except when it’s freezing cold and pelting it down. Do you want a cream tea?’

Hannah paused, the ‘yes’ on the tip of her tongue, then changed her mind. ‘Could I have a coffee and a scone with jam?’ She took off her coat and put it on the bench beside her. ‘I’d love a full cream tea, but I’m going to wait and bring Noah here.’

‘What coffee do you want? We’ve got some special Christmas flavours.’ Charlie handed Hannah a menu, and she scanned the options.

‘Cinnamon latte please. How long have you run the bus?’

‘Coming up to two years. I inherited it last February; there were a couple of false starts, and then I launched the Cornish Cream Tea Bus on this very beach last May. It’s done pretty well for itself.’

‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ Hannah said. ‘I doubt the bus could have managed it all on its own.’

Charlie patted the wall. ‘Maybe not, but Gertie is pretty special.’

‘Gertie?’

‘My uncle’s name for her. He left her to me in his will.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Hannah said, but Charlie waved her away. She thought of the photograph, nestled inside her purse now, in case there was an opportunity to talk about it. ‘Did he live in Porthgolow all his life?’

Charlie laughed. ‘Oh no, I’m not from here. I’m from Cheltenham originally. My friend Juliette moved to Porthgolow and invited me for a holiday, and I brought Gertie with me and never went home.’

‘You fell in love with Porthgolow?’ Hannah glanced out at the swirling rain. Even in such bleak weather, the cove and the neat village rising up the cliff was attractive, enticing. ‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Porthgolow has a lot going for it. To me, it …’ Charlie looked away, biting her lip. ‘It feels like it’s sprinkled with some kind of magic, and I’m not the only resident who feels that way. There are so many things to love about it.’

‘I can see that,’ Hannah said, then thanked Charlie as she brought over a steaming mug that smelled of spice, sugar and Christmas. ‘And one of them is up at the hotel, slightly disgruntled about his unusual pest problem?’

Charlie shook her head. ‘Poor Daniel. I can’t remember the last time I saw him so ruffled – he’s mostly unshakeable. When I first met him, he used to infuriate me with his unflappability, watching coolly while I got myself into a state over something.’ She bent down to peer at the scone in the oven, then stood and leaned against the counter.

Hannah sipped her latte foam. ‘Why do you think he’s so upset about Audrey’s revelation, if he usually takes everything in his stride?’

Charlie sighed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it was just a shock – the idea that his hotel might have some unwanted guests and, in turn, attract some unwanted attention. He’s worked so hard to get Crystal Waters to where it is, and he’s always trying to improve it – as you know because he’s brought you and Noah in. He cares about it, and maybe he feels this is out of his control.’ She shook her head. ‘I tried to talk to him last night, but he was still a bit put out. Then he texted me this morning to say that the Christmas tree was still standing, so the ghost hadn’t got the better of it.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘If he starts waging a war on spirits that probably don’t exist, I’m going to have to intervene.’ She turned away, and Hannah watched as she took the scone out of the oven and put it on a plate, along with a tiny dish of butter and another of jam.

‘It might not come to anything.’ Hannah gratefully accepted her scone, took a moment to smell it, then cut it in half and liberally spread it with butter and jam. ‘Audrey will do her research and go home, then by the time the book comes out, things will have gone back to normal. And even if it does get a bit of attention, tourists love the idea of haunted hotspots, don’t they? Who doesn’t love a ghost story? It can’t do any harm to the hotel’s reputation.’

‘That’s very true.’ Charlie said, suddenly brighter. ‘I don’t want him to get stressed. We’ve got a lot going on this Christmas: my cousin and her boyfriend are coming back from LA in a few days to stay at the hotel, though Delilah hasn’t told me exactly when.’

‘Oooh LA,’ Hannah said. ‘Fancy!’

Charlie grinned. ‘Sam’s finishing a film role out there and Lila’s with him. They’re both actors now, which I’m trying to get my head around. They met when Sam was filming Estelle in Cornwall and Gertie ended up being part of the on-set catering.’

Hannah almost choked. ‘I read about that – you being part of the filming. I had no idea your cousin ended up—’

‘Getting in the middle of everything?’ Charlie finished. ‘She does tend to do that. But she’s brilliant and I love her, and she and Sam are so happy. I can’t wait to see them.’

‘I bet,’ Hannah mumbled through a mouthful of scone. ‘This is delicious, by the way. I’m already looking forward to a proper cream tea.’

‘You’re welcome here any time I’m open, though that won’t be every day during the week – not when the weather’s so bad. I’ll let you know.’

Charlie busied herself in the kitchen while Hannah ate. She heard her murmuring affectionately to Marmite, and it reminded her of the way Noah had softened the previous evening, the fond way he’d spoken about his parents’ pointers. She wondered what he was doing today. It was obvious that he was close to his family, so maybe they had Sunday lunch every week. Hannah felt a pang of envy, wishing she was as close to her mum, that she’d had the chance to be close to her dad. She thought of the photograph in her purse.

‘What’s that yellow building for?’ she asked casually. ‘The one right on the edge of the water.’

Charlie smiled. ‘Believe it or not, it’s a house. My friend Reenie lives there.’

‘Isn’t it dangerous?’

‘It can be, I think, especially when the weather is wild, but Reenie’s been there for years, and she won’t move now.’

Hannah wondered if Reenie had been living there when the photo was taken. She drained her coffee. ‘Thank you so much for that, Charlie.’

‘My pleasure. What will you do with the rest of your day?’

Hannah looked out of the window. The rain had eased, but it still looked fairly inhospitable. ‘I might be brave and go for a walk, or I might go straight back to the hotel.’ She got out her purse to pay, the edge of the photograph peeking out of the notes section. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Charlie to look at it, to confirm that it was the same house, that Hannah wasn’t seeing things that didn’t exist, but there was a burst of voices behind her.

‘Careful, Flora. Slow down. You don’t know how slippery it is!’

‘Can I have a cake?’

‘I’m having a hot chocolate.’

Hannah turned to see a woman with dark curly hair and three children, two young girls and a teenage boy, step on board.

‘Thanks so much, Charlie,’ she said hurriedly and, pushing the photo further into her purse and smiling at the family, slipped past them and onto the sand.

Chapter Six

Hannah was disappointed with herself for not plucking up the courage to ask Charlie about the photograph, but there was one person who would know for certain whether their childhood holidays had included Porthgolow. She had been vague when Hannah had mentioned it before, but then she’d only been asking whether her mum knew the part of Cornwall she was travelling to, and hadn’t realized there might be a deeper significance.

The sight of the festively decorated hotel reception buoyed her, the light wall like a gentle, golden waterfall, the baubles, birds and snowflakes on the tree shimmering in its glow.

In her room Hannah put the kettle on and, standing at the window and looking out at the churning sea, dialled her mum’s number.

‘Hello?’ She always answered as if she didn’t know who was calling, even though she must have seen Hannah’s name appear on the screen.

‘Mum, it’s me. How are you?’

‘Good thanks. Busy. You know what it’s like.’ Hannah’s mum worked in the office at Harvey Nichols, managing the security, and the run-up to Christmas was one of her busiest times. ‘How’s Cornwall?’

‘It’s beautiful, if a bit windswept, which is entirely understandable of course, but …’ She took a deep breath to stop herself from babbling. ‘The hotel is great. It’s an interesting project, and the local consultant I’m working with, Noah, is … we’re getting on OK. I’m enjoying it.’

‘That’s good, Han. Glad your first foray into the field is going well. How long—’

‘The thing is, Mum,’ she said, cutting over her, ‘are you sure we didn’t come to Porthgolow when we were little? I know we stayed in Newquay, but they’re quite close together, and it’s a really pretty village with a great beach.’

‘I said before that we might have,’ her mum replied. ‘How do you expect me to remember where we went on day trips? Cornwall has hundreds of beaches.’

‘There’s a photo of you, me and Mike, and there’s this yellow house in the background. I found it yesterday – the house – when I went to the beach. I don’t know if—’

‘If it’s the same one? It’s unlikely, don’t you think, that a house so close to the water would still be there after twenty years? It would have fallen into the sea by now.’

Hannah hadn’t thought of that. ‘You’re right. Sorry, I just wondered.’

‘Why does it matter, anyway – you shouldn’t spend all your time thinking about it. Enjoy the place, get your work done and show them what you’re capable of, then come home. I need to head off now, love. Someone’s at the door.’

‘Bye then,’ Hannah said, as her mum hung up the phone.

There had been nobody at the door. Her mum had a loud, ostentatious doorbell, and Hannah would have heard it in the background. She lifted up the photo, peering at the tiny house behind the three figures. It was close to the water, but there was a few feet of rock in front of the building that Hannah didn’t think was there now. The cliff had eroded, but the house was still safe.

She pressed her hand against the side of the kettle, decided it didn’t need reboiling, and poured hot water into her mug. She was about to add milk when a thought struck her: she had mentioned that the house was yellow, but had she said it was near the cliff edge? How had her mum known it was so close to the water – unless she could recall Hannah’s photograph perfectly? She closed her eyes, trying to remember her exact wording.

Why didn’t her mum want to admit they’d spent time in Porthgolow? She had asked Hannah why it mattered, and Hannah didn’t know. Except that she had this strange feeling about being here, a feeling that it held some significance for her. Since she’d seen the yellow house she’d had a tightness in her chest, as if she couldn’t fully relax. If her mum wasn’t going to help, then she would have to rely on the locals. Hannah was going to have to get to know the people of Porthgolow.

She spent the rest of the day revisiting her and Noah’s report, reading in her room and, in the evening, talking to Saskia on the phone, telling her about Noah and the hotel, giving her all the details of the Cornish Cream Tea Bus and the possible hauntings, but leaving out the connection between the village and her photo. She wasn’t ready to share it with anyone else yet, not when the conversation with her mum had left her so unsettled.

Confusing thoughts kept Hannah awake into the night, and she woke on Monday morning with gritty eyes. Now she knew her mum wasn’t telling her the truth, it meant there was something here to find. Hannah would look into it, but she couldn’t let it take over. She had a job to do, too.

After breakfast, Hannah went to meet Noah in the snug. He was wearing a russet-coloured jumper over his shirt, the dark frames of his glasses unable to hide the blueish smudges under his eyes. He had already ordered a coffee.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Did you have a nice Sunday?’

‘Fine, thanks. How was yours?’

‘It was good. I had a scone on Gertie.’

‘Gertie?’ He wasn’t looking at her, instead fiddling with something on his iPad, and Hannah felt a surge of irritation.

‘That’s what the bus is called. It’s like she’s formally the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, and affectionately known as Gertie. Charlie’s scones are delicious, you should really—’

‘We should really be getting on with this, Hannah, if we can. There’s a lot to get through.’ He tapped the table.

‘Sure. I didn’t mean to—’

‘No problem,’ he said quickly. ‘This is where we got to on Saturday afternoon.’

With her heart sinking, Hannah took her seat next to him. It seemed that Noah the frosty snowman was back.

Their progress that morning was focused, because Noah didn’t give Hannah any choice. They discussed the different air-filtration systems they could offer Daniel, and how they could make the spa and swimming pool more eco-friendly. The financial and environmental costs of the work had to be weighed up against the savings they would make when they were complete.

Noah had an almost-encyclopaedic knowledge of green solutions, and he’d worked on several local projects: the Eden Project, a hotel near Tintagel, a spa in St Austell that had been renovated with sustainability in mind. Hannah was learning a lot; she just wished it was happening in a less chilly environment. He was a different person to the man who had been playing with Marmite and sharing details about his family on Saturday night, and she wondered what had happened to affect his mood so completely.

‘Right then.’ He flung the cover of his iPad closed as if it had personally offended him, and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Lunch.’

‘Shall we get something together?’ Hannah asked.

He stood up. ‘I have to make some calls.’

Hannah shot to her feet, too. She didn’t know what she was going to say until it came out. ‘No, not right now. You’re coming with me.’

‘I have things to do – unrelated to Crystal Waters.’

‘They can wait. You’ve been like a bear with a sore head all morning, and I’m going to cheer you up.’

He clenched his jaw. ‘I don’t need you trying to make me feel better.’

‘Tough. I’ve got to work with you, so it’s self-preservation, really. I’ve made the decision, and now I’m going to get my coat: wait there.’ She stormed out of the snug, wishing she didn’t have to leave him, certain he wouldn’t be there when she got back, but when she returned he was standing in exactly the same spot. She thought he looked sad rather than angry, and her irritation faded.

‘Come on then,’ she said, checking he was following as she walked out of the hotel.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘Wait and see.’ She would have thought it was obvious now they’d left the hotel, but she didn’t say that in case it upset the delicate balance of the situation.

They were halfway to the cove before he spoke. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. Yesterday wasn’t particularly great, but you don’t deserve my anger. It isn’t aimed at you at all, I hope you realize that.’

‘I guessed there must be something else wrong,’ Hannah said. ‘Unless you were offended by my outfit, and I picked it specifically for its inoffensiveness.’ She flashed him a smile, and he almost returned it, his gaze flicking down to her long tan boots and up again. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his coat, his shoulders hunched against the cold. ‘You can offload on me if you want,’ she added. ‘It might help to talk about it.’

He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t be bringing this stuff anywhere near work. I promise I’ll make more of an effort. You’re taking me to the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, I take it.’

‘What do you have against scones?’

‘Nothing, I just really fancied a sandwich.’ He sounded genuinely upset.

‘A full Cornish cream tea on Gertie comes with sandwiches. Charlie will do whatever it takes to lift your mood – she’s that kind of person.’

‘Honestly, I’m fine. I’m going to discard my dark cloud – look.’ He waggled his shoulders, as if shaking something heavy off them, and Hannah laughed. This time when he smiled, it reached his eyes.

They were about to step onto the beach when the door of the Pop-In shop opened and a grey-haired woman came out, her arms tightly folded. She glanced in their direction then looked towards the sea. ‘Storm’s comin’ in,’ she said. ‘Forecasts haven’t spied it yet, but I’ve lived here all my life and I know when there’s a big’un on the horizon.’ She turned her full attention on them. ‘What are you doin’ here, grockles? You don’t want t’be holidaying when it hits.’

‘I’m not a grockle,’ Noah said, his Cornish accent suddenly more pronounced. ‘Mousehole born and bred.’

The woman looked him up and down. ‘Fine. But you can’t tell me this maid is local. Not wi’ those clothes on, and those wide eyes as if everythin’s new and shiny.’

‘I’m from Edinburgh,’ Hannah said, her curiosity outweighing her annoyance at the way she’d been spoken about. ‘We’re helping Daniel at the hotel, and are just on our way to see Charlie, on the bus.’

Her mention of the two locals had the desired effect, and the woman’s eyes softened. ‘Well then, enjoy it. You’ll be stranded up at Daniel’s place soon enough.’

‘I’m Hannah.’ She held out her hand. ‘And this is Noah. Do you fancy having a cream tea with us?’

The woman paused, glancing between them. ‘Rose is behind the till for the next hour, and I suppose a break wouldn’t do any harm. I need to tell Charlie about the storm, too. Give me two secs to let Rose know, and I’ll be wi’ you. I’m Myrtle. Everyone knows me here.’ She shuffled back inside and Noah turned to Hannah, his brows lowered in confusion.

‘Why did you invite her?’

‘The more the merrier,’ Hannah said lamely. She couldn’t tell Noah that she wanted to pick Myrtle’s brains, that she hadn’t missed the older woman saying she’d lived in the village all her life and, from the looks of things, was keen on knowing everyone else’s business.

‘She didn’t approve of your outfit,’ he said, and it took Hannah a moment to join the dots back to her earlier, pathetic joke.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘It picks me out as an intruder, apparently.’

Noah raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, just to make it clear, I think it’s great. Especially the boots. Don’t let her make you feel bad.’

‘Oh.’ Hannah’s cheeks flamed. ‘Thank you.’ With her mind completely blank after his compliment – his flirtatious compliment – they waited in silence for Myrtle to come back out.

‘Well I must say,’ Myrtle said once they were settled at one of Gertie’s downstairs tables, ‘this is pretty cosy.’

Charlie had welcomed them on board, admitting they’d caught her just in time. The squally weather meant that customers were scarce, and she’d decided she would be more productive shutting up and focusing on Gertie’s Christmas plans.

‘So cosy,’ Hannah agreed, clutching her mug of tea close to her body so she could absorb its warmth. ‘Tell us more about your Santa tour, Charlie. Is Gertie basically the sleigh?’

‘Sort of,’ she called from the kitchen, where she was arranging mini sandwiches on cake stands. ‘I thought I could bring some festive cheer to a few Cornish villages, and Hugh, the pub landlord, has agreed to be my Santa Claus.’

‘You’re giving out presents?’ Noah asked. He was already more relaxed, and had listened to Charlie’s description of her Christmas Cornish cream tea with increasing interest. Hannah thought she’d heard a quiet moan escape his lips at the mention of the brandy clotted cream that would accompany the mince-pie-inspired scones.

‘Only tiny ones,’ Charlie said, bringing cake stands laden with finger sandwiches and mini cakes to their table. ‘I can’t afford to be too generous, but the wholesalers I use do a few nice gifts, and meeting Santa is the most important thing. Dig in.’

‘The problem when you’ve got someone like Charlie, is that people start to expect things.’ Myrtle took a sausage and caramelized onion sandwich off the stand and separated it into two halves, a blob of sauce plopping onto her plate.

‘What do you mean?’ Hannah asked.

‘Locals and visitors alike start to expect food markets an’ tours an’ fireworks on the beach when it’s solstice. An’ it’s all well an’ good, and I’m not sayin’ I don’t enjoy it, because I do. Now, anyway,’ she added pointedly, leaving Hannah to believe that there had been a time when she and Charlie hadn’t seen eye to eye. ‘But there’s folk who come to rely on it, for entertainment and company, to encourage visitors.’

‘So Charlie’s holding up the whole of the Porthgolow economy,’ Noah said. ‘And you’re worried she’ll leave?’

‘I have no intention of leaving!’ Charlie screeched. ‘Myrtle, why didn’t you tell me you felt this way? Gertie may have wheels, but I’m pretty sure Crystal Waters hasn’t got a hidden pair of wings. Daniel isn’t leaving his hotel, and I’m not leaving him – or anyone else in Porthgolow. My life is here.’

It was an impassioned speech that made Hannah feel a little emotional. She was relieved when Marmite broke the tension, waking up from his nap and barking at them.

Myrtle muttered something under her breath, and Charlie dropped into the remaining seat at the table. ‘Has someone been spreading rumours?’

Myrtle shook her head. ‘It’s just …’ she gestured outside. ‘Storms. Winter. I don’t like it. Always feels like it’s threatenin’ our little community. Ignore me.’

‘Did you say you’ve always lived here?’ Hannah asked softly.

‘Been in Porthgolow all my life,’ she said proudly. ‘Seen a fair bit o’change, I can tell you.’

‘You’ve seen lots of tourists, I expect.’

‘On an’ off. Not as popular as other places, mind. Porthgolow is unassumin’. Charlie’s brought the life we need – Daniel too, if I’m bein’ fair. But we’ve no arcades or amusements or any o’ that rubbish. Stella and Anton are seeing the benefits, too.’

‘They run the bed and breakfast on the seafront,’ Charlie said, pointing. ‘It’s got beautiful views, and they’re both such stylish people so their house is, too. It’s a lovely place to stay.’

Hannah chewed her nail. ‘You don’t have any old photos, do you? I’d love to see what Porthgolow looked like years ago – before Gertie and Crystal Waters. Ooh, imagine if there were photos of the Clifftop Hotel. Wouldn’t that help Audrey? Myrtle, if you’ve got any—’

‘Who’s this Audrey?’ Myrtle asked warily.

Charlie tapped Hannah’s hand. ‘She’s a guest at Crystal Waters, interested in history.’ She didn’t elaborate, and Hannah remembered Daniel’s insistence that the spooky turn of events shouldn’t be mentioned to anyone who didn’t need to know.

‘As is this lass.’ Myrtle jabbed a finger at Hannah. ‘I can have a look, I s’pose. See what I’ve got.’

Hannah smiled. ‘That would be wonderful.’

‘Give me a couple o’ days – my spare room’s a bit of a ’mare – an’ I’ll see what I can come up with.’

Hannah nodded enthusiastically as Charlie got up to check on the scones. The sandwiches had been delicious and, despite it being a Christmas cream tea, had no turkey in sight; instead they were filled with salmon, sausage and onion, and goat’s cheese with a spicy, fruit-rich chutney that Hannah assumed was local.

She glanced at Noah, who was holding a mini doughnut in front of his face. It had a swirl of cream and a red jelly sweet on top.

‘You do realize every doughnut is going to pale into insignificance after this one,’ he said to Charlie.

She laughed. ‘You’ve not even tasted it.’

‘I’ve tasted the sandwiches, and anyway, if you’re giving me themed cakes, you’re already halfway to winning my affection.’ His cheeks were slightly flushed, his blue eyes alive in a way they hadn’t been that morning.

‘Is it really that easy to gain your affection?’ Hannah asked. ‘Give a cake a hat?’

He glanced at her, his smile faltering. ‘Just a hat isn’t really trying, though. This one’s clearly a Santa hat. No ordinary beanie will do.’

‘Got it. An identifiable hat. I’ll remember that next time I bring you something to eat. I can see why the fudge wasn’t up to scratch.’ She sighed dramatically to show she was joking.

‘Hey.’ He rested a hand on her forearm. ‘The fudge was delicious, and generous, and unexpected. Spending time in Porthgolow with you is going to damage my waistline.’

‘It’s cheering you up, though,’ she said.

His smile disappeared completely. ‘It is. It has. Thank you, Hannah. I don’t know how you—’

‘Mince pie scones!’ Charlie said, placing the cake stand on the table with a flourish, and Noah’s sentence remained unfinished as he, Myrtle and, after a moment, Hannah, put one on their plates, the smell of brandy butter and spiced fruit filling the bus with Christmas promise. Hannah was far from disappointed, but she wished she knew what Noah had been about to say.

‘Why do you want to see Myrtle’s photos of the village?’ Noah asked. He didn’t sound out of breath, even though they had reached the steepest part of the hill. ‘When Charlie said she’d also ask Reenie, whoever she is, if she had any albums, you looked happier than I’ve ever seen you. What’s going on?’

Hannah glanced sideways at him. The wind was too strong for his hair wax and dark curls were trying to escape. ‘I’m just interested. Audrey has got me thinking about the history of this place, the old hotel that used to be here—’

‘That was an afterthought. You asked if Myrtle had any photographs and then you remembered Audrey. Don’t think you can sneak this past me.’

‘I’m not trying to sneak anything past you,’ she said. ‘I was trying to distract her. She seemed anxious, and—’

‘That’s not it, either. Have you found out something else about Porthgolow?’ He stopped and turned to face her, and Hannah was forced to stop, too.

‘It’s not related to what we’re doing at the hotel, or Audrey, though I do think she’d love to see old photographs of the village. It would really help with her book, don’t you think?’

Noah folded his arms.

‘Can we please go back to the hotel?’ she said. ‘It’s so cold.’

‘It’s not that bad. Wait until the storm really ramps up.’ There was a glint in his eye, and Hannah took the opportunity to change the subject.

‘Have you ever been out on the water during a storm? You see it on those programmes like Deadliest Catch, where they’re facing waves that are twice as tall as the boat. I can’t imagine being out there when it’s like that – it’s scary enough from here.’ She pointed out to sea, where the waves were cresting all the way to the horizon.

‘It’s magnificent though, isn’t it?’ He turned so that he was standing next to her.

Hannah silently agreed: It was nature at its wildest, and she was lucky she could stand here and watch it, but even so, she felt unnerved being so exposed to it.

‘Hannah?’ he prompted, looking down at her. ‘Are you OK?’ The back of his hand brushed against hers and she jolted. It had felt like a burn, the only point of heat when the rest of her was so cold.

She swallowed. ‘It’s spectacular, but I still wouldn’t want to be out there.’

‘Let’s get back in the warm,’ he said softly, and they started walking. ‘Why do you want to see the photos?’ he asked again, after a few minutes of silence.

‘Why did you turn up in such a bad mood today?’ Hannah countered, recovering some of her composure.

He sighed. ‘There’s just something I’m dealing with, at home. It’s … difficult.’ He paused in front of the hotel doors and ushered Hannah through. She stepped into the glittering reception. Once the doors had closed behind them, the gathering winds were a memory, the choppy sea beyond the glass as unreal as a silent video.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hannah said. ‘Are you sure you’re OK to be here, then? Working on this project?’

‘Absolutely,’ Noah replied quickly. ‘It’s good to have something to take my mind off it. And look, Hannah, it’s none of my business why you want to see those photo albums. I shouldn’t have pressed you. Back to the snug?’ He gave her a weak smile, the earlier warmth gone from his eyes as if it had been blown away by the weather. Hannah nodded, her throat tight.

She followed him into the cosy room, feeling as dejected as he looked. It seemed she’d undone all her good work in one fell swoop.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.