The Cornish Escape: The perfect summer romance full of sunshine and secrets

by Lily Graham

  I blushed, attempting to get back to my letter.

  ‘Rose,’ he continued, ‘don’t you think your sister should put away her books for once in her life? I mean, we’ve come all this way and all I’ve seen of her is the top of her forehead. It is a rather nice forehead, but still.’

  They all laughed. Rose said, ‘I’m not my sister’s keeper.’

  ‘Oh ho, Rebecca, looks like you’ve got some competition!’ said Charles, who had wakened at the sound of our laughter. He roused himself into a sitting position and gave her a surprised look. It wasn’t often that someone in the male persuasion looked elsewhere when she was around.

  Rebecca gave him a thin smile. ‘Stephen just likes the chase.’

  ‘And you’ve been giving him one for years,’ guffawed Charles.

  ‘Hilarious,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I shouldn’t worry, we all know what Tilly’s type is.’

  ‘What is that?’ asked Stephen. ‘Blond and tall?’

  ‘Well, that depends… I mean, he might have been, for all I know.’

  I looked at Rebecca, puzzled. Then realisation dawned. I gave her a hard look. But she ignored me. ‘Haven’t you heard about how and why Tilly came to school with us? It’s a fascinating story.’

  ‘Something about you making friends with someone you shouldn’t have, that’s what I heard,’ said Charles.

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t as innocent as all that. It was a romance, after all,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Stephen, his eyes popping. ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘If only,’ said Rose.

  ‘I’m going inside,’ I said, sitting up.

  Tim shook his head. ‘They were just children. Stay, Spriggy.’

  ‘How sweet, who was it?’ asked Stephen.

  ‘The gardener’s son, wasn’t it?’ said Rebecca.

  ‘No!’ said Stephen, amazed. ‘Tilly, I never pictured you slumming it.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘I wasn’t slumming anything.’

  He raised a brow.

  Rebecca smiled. ‘So, Stephen, I shouldn’t worry. I should think you’d be a vast improvement on her usual conquests.’

  I stood up and gathered my things. ‘You would think that.’

  Later, after dinner, Alice said to me, ‘You shouldn’t bait Rebecca. She’ll be out for blood now.’

  It was good advice. Pity it came too late.

  The next day I sought refuge in the library. Stephen had risen to Rebecca’s challenge and I was finding my patience wearing thin. The door burst open just as I was going past and something solid and human-shaped slammed into me. I spun backwards, rubbing my left shoulder, which had borne the impact. I looked up in shock to see a pair of blue eyes, staring at me in equal surprise.

  ‘Tilly?’

  I blinked. It felt like the world fell away then rushed at me all at once. ‘Fen?’

  A dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth and his eyes lit up. It was the same smile. The same curly brown hair. He was taller than me now, and more handsome than I’d ever realised. I felt myself swallow.

  ‘I wondered if I’d see you,’ he said, and right then it felt as if I were still thirteen and no time had passed at all.

  ‘Michael?’ came a voice from behind the door.

  Fen turned around and I saw behind him a man in a brown suit with a gold monocle in his left eye.

  Michael?

  ‘My apologies. May I introduce my tutor, Mr Neil Canavan. This is Miss Matilda Asprey.’

  It was strange to hear Fen so formal.

  Mr Canavan bowed slightly. ‘Miss.’

  ‘Your tutor?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Mr Canavan. ‘Michael is one of the best students I’ve ever had. I used to teach your – well, speak of the Devil,’ he said, just as Tim walked into the room, followed by Rebecca and Charles Hammond.

  I don’t believe it,’ cried Tim. ‘Can it really be old Canavan?’

  The laughter lines around Mr Canavan’s eyes creased. ‘Now this is a pleasant surprise. As I was saying, miss, I was once the tutor to your cousin here.’

  ‘A million years ago now,’ said Tim. ‘But how wonderful to see you again. My uncle said that he wanted someone for the job of training up his new agent.’

  ‘New agent?’ I said, looking from Tim to Fen.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Fen.

  ‘But that’s the plan, eventually,’ said Father, coming in from behind and clapping him on the shoulder. ‘As we expand Idyllwild – we’ve got the best man, coming fully on board in the new, expanded role.’

  Rebecca was staring at Fen with interest. At some point I felt her look at me, saw her eyes widen in realisation, and a slow grin spread across her face.

  There had been a time when I could tell what Fen was thinking just by reading his face. Now, he didn’t even call himself Fen any more. I didn’t know what to do with that.

  I had thought of him every day for three years. I’d missed him more than I could bear. I had driven myself crazy wondering what had happened to him, what he’d been doing. But I had never considered this. That somehow, with me gone, my father would have welcomed him in and taken him under his wing.

  I didn’t know what I felt about it. Anger, possibly. Confusion. Something else too.

  There was only one person who would give me an answer, and I sought her out. ‘How long has he been tutored here?’ I asked Mother, when I got her alone.

  She, at least, could be relied upon to show her displeasure. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘Why should we tell you?’

  I blinked. ‘You sent me away just because we were friends, and yet Father welcomes him into the house?’ I recalled how he’d even gone so far as to pat him on the back. It was so strange and confusing.

  ‘He has not welcomed Waters into the house. And it’s not the same thing – you were sneaking out at all hours to see him as a child. Your father is simply ensuring that his future agent receives a proper education.’

  I blinked: Waters.

  ‘I don’t need to explain anything to you, Tilly. Your father takes care of his own, and you should know that.’

  ‘The way he took care of me?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I think it’s patently obvious what’s more important to him, what’s always been the most important thing to him.’

  ‘And that is…?’

  ‘Idyllwild. Even if he has to get rid of his youngest daughter in the process, his farm always comes first.’

  She pursed her lips but she didn’t deny it.

  I had never imagined that, when I finally got to see him again, I’d ever find myself avoiding Fen. But that’s what I did those first few days. We hadn’t had a chance to speak privately, and while I knew it wasn’t his fault that my own father had, in his own way, chosen him over me, there was a part of me that felt a sense of betrayal nonetheless.

  Rebecca didn’t help. She seemed to find any excuse to venture around the library during Fen’s lessons. I tried my best not to let her see that it bothered me, especially when once I came downstairs to see her laughing with Fen, her hand on his sleeve.

  ‘She’s just doing it to get a reaction out of you,’ whispered Alice.

  At the sound of our footsteps Fen looked at me.

  ‘Tilly?’ he said. Rebecca’s eyebrows rose at his informal tone.

  ‘Waters,’ I said, striding off.

  Fen found me by Old Tom. I had shimmied up the tree and was sitting with my back against its trunk, my head against my knees.

  ‘I thought I’d find you here.’

  I looked down. ‘Did you?’ I said, my voice colder than I intended.

  ‘I did,’ he said, swinging himself up and taking a seat next to me.

  I looked away. ‘I never expected to find you here,’ I said.

  ‘I gathered that. I thought they’d told you.’

  ‘They had not.’

  I picked at the bark; Fen
touched my hand. ‘I thought – maybe – you’d be happy to see me.’

  I looked up. ‘Happy?’ A fat tear slid down my face. ‘Fen, I thought you said that you’d always be my friend, even if I couldn’t always be yours.’

  ‘I said that,’ he agreed.

  ‘And?’

  ‘We were children then.’

  ‘So it was just a lie?’ I felt the air leave my lungs.

  ‘Yes.’

  I pushed past him, jumped off the branch.

  ‘Stop, Tilly!’

  ‘Leave me alone!’

  ‘Tilly, I was never your friend.’

  I stopped; I felt suddenly sick. The tears came fast and fresh. ‘What?’

  He grabbed hold of my arms. ‘What I mean is, you were never just my friend, Tilly Asprey. I fell in love with you the first day I met you.’

  ‘You loved me?’

  ‘I never stopped.’

  I gasped, the sobs starting. ‘But you did stop, I never heard from you.’

  ‘Didn’t you get my letters?’

  I blinked. ‘There were no letters.’

  He kissed me, hard, and I gasped. ‘I wrote so many,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whenever I could, I sent you a letter – sometimes twice a day when I was missing you like mad. You didn’t get them?’

  I shook my head, biting my lip.

  ‘I caught the train, when I hadn’t heard from you. I paid some woman from the kitchens to leave flowers in your room. I thought you would know that they were from me.’

  I closed my eyes. ‘I did.’

  He brushed away my tears and held me tight.

  ‘Oh, Fen, it’s always been you.’

  We sat beneath Old Tom, and he told me about how my father had gone to Yorkshire after I was sent away to school and personally fetched him back.

  ‘None of us knew why. I think, but I’m not sure, that maybe Mam had something to do with it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s just a hunch. I know your father felt badly when I was sent away, after they found us together that night. But when I found out that you were gone too, it felt so unfair.’

  ‘Oh, Fen,’ I sighed, leaning against him, ‘none of this has been fair. But I’m glad it was this way. At least you got to be with your family.’

  ‘But not with you.’

  ‘We should have known that it would never be easy.’

  ‘Yeah, and now with Da ill, it’ll be even harder.’

  I looked at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s… He hasn’t been well for a while. It’s one of the reasons that I agreed to it all. I mean, someone has to look after the farm.’

  ‘Does it have to be you?’

  ‘Well, what would happen to my family if I didn’t?’

  When we parted we made a pact to meet at dawn the following morning – it seemed safer that way, with less chance of us being caught. Once again, Fen and I were back to keeping secret hours just so that we could be together.

  In the darkness, we snuck down to the cove and watched the sunrise bathe the sky in swirls of magenta and mauve.

  ‘You always pick up the sea glass,’ Fen noted.

  My hair was loose, and it whipped around in the wind. I nodded, bending down to pick up a blue-green pebble. ‘It’s my favourite colour,’ I said.

  He moved a rogue strand of hair away from my face.

  ‘One day, when I have a house of my own,’ I said, ‘I’ll put them in bottles everywhere, and the only colour I’ll wear will be aquamarine.’

  He laughed. ‘And the only animals you’ll keep will be foxes?’

  ‘Quite right. And I’ll only have round windows, and the biggest window seat you can find.’

  ‘Aquamarine, of course?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Is that what you’d have on your fingers too?’

  I looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The ring you wear, when you get married.’

  I bit my lip. ‘Perhaps.’

  He moved closer. ‘And in this home, who would you share it with?’

  ‘Apart from my foxes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’d quite like a sea turtle.’

  He laughed. ‘Really? Is that all – just you and the foxes and a sea turtle?’

  ‘Maybe. As you know, I am a suffragette now.’

  He leant in and kissed me, and I felt my stomach swoop. My breath caught, and the world fell away. I looked up into the bluest eyes. ‘I could always do with a fox charmer.’

  He grinned and held me close.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Present day

  The daffodil farm was breathtaking in spring. The yellow flowers stretched on for miles, creating an incredible lemon wash against the sea and sky.

  The farm was open to visitors, and Adam and I walked for what seemed like miles. But when we got peckish we decided to visit the teashop near the entrance. It was rather sweet, with vintage menus that looked like old botanical prints, glass domes housing an assorted array of mouthwatering cakes, alongside steel garden furniture and green shrubs in French-style wooden boxes.

  ‘Hello, Adam,’ greeted a woman with short blonde hair, wearing a red apron sprinkled with flowers, when we took a seat.

  ‘Nora, hi,’ he said, and then introduced us.

  ‘Victoria, this is Nora, one of the owners of the farm. She runs the teashop.’

  She held out a hand and winked at me. ‘I know you, of course – you beat me to the cottage.’

  I frowned. ‘Oh yes, that’s right – I’m sorry.’ I pulled a face.

  She laughed. ‘No, it’s fine. It’s probably better this way. It would have been cruel to demolish the old place for a bigger tea garden. I heard that you’re renovating it, is that true?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. It’s a big job, but I’m getting there – I have electricity now,’ I confided.

  ‘Yay,’ she said, with a wide smile. ‘To tell you the truth though, just between us,’ she said, giving Adam a wink, ‘I’m not sure I would have been able to go through with it. I mean, they already say it’s haunted, and I wouldn’t want some ancestor of mine harassing us because we disturbed their remains or something.’

  I frowned. ‘Your ancestor?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh yes, very distantly. My great-grandmother used to live here. Gosh, it was such a long time ago now.’

  ‘When – um, how long ago?’

  ‘Oh, a hundred years or more, at least.’

  My mouth fell open, and I saw that Adam’s did as well.

  ‘You’re related to the Aspreys?’ I asked.

  ‘Distantly. We were cousins. Found out a few years ago, can you imagine?’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  1913, Cornwall

  Tilly

  At last, the moment arrived for which my mother had prayed: Charles proposed to Rose.

  The party that was held in what was optimistically called the Great Hall was the largest that had ever been thrown at the estate. The champagne flowed like water and no one was happier than Mother.

  People came in from far and wide. There were so many guests that we had to seek accommodation at inns and hotels around the county, ferrying them to the party through the daffodil fields.

  I heard Father say that it was some of the best advertising he could ever have had. In a fit of magnanimity, he’d invited half the household staff to attend and celebrate their joy.

  For the family, new dresses had been ordered in the latest styles. There were silks and suits and a band that serenaded the young happy couple. The doors stood open, welcoming in the cool night air, and in the garden a cascade of lanterns flickered under the moonlight.

  It was the first real party I’d ever attended. There were uniformed waiters serving cocktails, laughter braying in every corner and, later, there would be music and dancing till dawn.

  My hair had been curled and pinned up. I wore a dress with sheer, pale blue voile and a b
lack lace overlay with a scalloped edge, and I was doing my best to avoid Stephen Clapham-Stiles, who kept asking me to dance.

  I slipped behind a marble column during the speeches, and came face-to-face with Fen. He looked young and impossibly handsome in his tails. His hair was tamed, and his eyes searched mine. I looked away.

  ‘Aren’t you going to call me Waters again?’ he whispered in my ear.

  My mouth curled into a grin, which I tried to hide.

  I heard his laugh, while I faced the front to hear the speeches. I kept my hand behind me and his fingers found mine. I lifted my glass as my father asked us to toast to Rose and Charles’s happiness.

  ‘At least your mother’s happy – now.’

  I looked at him. It wasn’t like Fen to sound bitter.

  The musicians started to play again and Stephen came forward, seizing my shoulder. ‘Excuse us, dear chap. This lady promised me a dance,’ he said, pulling me towards him.

  I stumbled along. ‘Stephen, perhaps later,’ I said, but he was strong.

  ‘Oh no, we’re going to dance,’ he said. I noticed that he was barely able to stand straight.

  ‘Stop it.’

  He stumbled. His words were slurred. ‘You smell like peaches, did you know that? That’s all I think about now – peaches. Maybe I should take a bite?’ he sniggered.

  I looked at him in disgust. ‘You’re drunk.’

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ssso,’ he said, coming too close, breathing into my hair while I attempted to twist away. ‘Was that him?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know, the boy – the one they found you with,’ he said, squinting at me. ‘I has – haven’t – been able to stop thinking about you since I heard… picturing you, so naughty…’

  ‘You’re disgusting.’ I tried to pull away, but he was too strong, his hands clamped around me like a vice. His breath was rank from too much whisky and tobacco.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, pulling me towards the gardens. He was strong, and he marched me further and further away from the party.

  ‘I want to go back inside, please.’