‘No,’ Tammy said with a fleeting smile. ‘Not with a queue of impatient locals stuck behind you.’
Her phone pinged and when she saw the message, she let out a little cry of shock.
Ruan frowned. ‘I hope it’s not bad news?’
‘No. I don’t think so – I – oh my God. Yes!’ She threw her arms around him.
‘Wow. Good news then?’
He was smiling down at her and as their eyes met her stomach did a double somersault.
Realising where she was and that this was the closest she’d been to Ruan, she let go of him and blood rushed to her cheeks. ‘Sorry. Sorry. That was the OceanFest organisers. They just messaged to say I’ve got the job. Three different pieces over three days.’
‘That’s brilliant. I’m thrilled for you.’ And he genuinely seemed to be, grinning almost as madly as she must have been. ‘You’ll be able to reach so many more people at the festival. I looked it up online. It’s huge. They attract tens of thousands of people.’
‘I half wish you hadn’t reminded me of that,’ she said, trembling inwardly at the scale of the task ahead. All three installations had to grab attention and be spectacular. Her reputation depended on it: maybe even her future as a sand artist. A disaster would be shared far and wide on social media. The regional TV news would also be visiting.
She longed to do a proper happy dance across the car park, but she’d already embarrassed herself enough. It was way too soon for showing him who she really was. It had been way too soon for a hug. ‘I’d better go. I have less than a month to plan and practise for the installations. I never expected to get the job and was too superstitious to plan just in case. Plus, I agreed to help Davey in the gallery.’
He treated her to his serious lawyer look. ‘If you’re too busy for Sunday, I don’t want to put you under added pressure …’
‘No, I’ll be there,’ she replied firmly, even though she was too busy.
‘Great, I’ll look forward to it. Shall I walk you home before I leave?’
‘Erm. No, no, I’ll be OK but thank you all the same,’ Tammy said.
‘In that case, see you Sunday.’ He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, the lightest brush of skin on skin that sent her senses into overdrive. If her body reacted like that to a touch of his hand and a peck on the cheek, what would she be like if they took things further?
‘See you,’ she said, trying not to think too much about that scenario while casually walking out of the car park. She lifted her hand in a brief wave to Ruan as he passed her, window down, mouthing ‘Bye’.
Once he was out of sight, she finally allowed herself a little air punch and a ‘Yes!’ Life was looking up. There was this amazing opportunity that would make her dad proud and – just maybe – the glimmer of a fresh start in her love life. She’d been right to grasp both and this commission felt like an omen. Her father would want her to be happy.
It was then she spotted Sean walking down the steps from Porthmellow’s steep main street towards the car park. Had he seen her and Ruan hugging? He’d been possessive when they were together and was obviously still stinging from their split. With a sigh, Tammy quickened her step towards the Harbour Studio, determined not to look behind or let Sean know she’d noticed him.
It wasn’t that she was scared of speaking to Sean, andshe could hold her own well enough. But her love life was none of his business, and she didn’t want a confrontation this evening: not when her life seemed to finally be heading in the right direction.
CHAPTER NINE
Ruan hung his car keys on the hook next to the caravan door. It wasn’t fully dark and, in the twilight, bats circled above the overgrown jungle that screened the caravan from the cove. He could hear the waves breaking on the rocky shore and owls softly hooting from the trees.
The caravan was stuffy after being shut up all day, and there was still a faint tang from the previous night’s takeaway Thai curry. He opened the windows and left the door open. In some ways, he was relieved that Tammy hadn’t hinted about going back to his place, even though he obviously wouldn’t have said no.
It was too soon and, on a practical level, his place wasn’t fit to entertain company. Her studio flat with its harbour views was a palace compared to his ageing ‘mobile home’.
He’d bought it for a song from a friend who’d recently finished renovating their home. His partner and two kids had lived in it for six months and he’d transported it free to Ruan’s land on the proviso that Ruan cleaned it up himself.
Gradually Ruan had scrubbed it down, and found a place for his few possessions. He’d never liked clutter but the caravan couldn’t hold all the stuff from his Bristol flat, sohe’d stored the rest in his parents’ garage before taking possession of Seaspray.
From the caravan step, he gazed up at the house silhouetted against the night sky. The surveyor had told Ruan that the granite walls ‘should still be solid’, although it was impossible to say until the ivy and wisteria were cleared away. Over the years the house had stood empty, their tendrils had curled around the façade and their leafy fingers had worked their way through cracked windows.
By daylight, you would be able to see orange lichen on the roof slates, many of which were splintered and cracked, allowing the Cornish rain to penetrate the building. The sunroom at the side of the house had collapsed, probably decades before, scattering broken glass and rotting timber over the terrace which must once have been a cosy suntrap.
The place was a total wreck and even Ruan had been shocked when he’d first set eyes on it a couple of months previously. Yet none of that mattered, because Seaspray had something unique that no amount of sea air or rain or neglect could ever change: one of the most beautiful locations in Cornwall.
It was situated above a cove that was inaccessible apart from the private track that led down from a narrow country lane. A stream gurgled alongside the house, making its way through a wooded valley and emptying into the sea on the south-east-facing cove.
In this sheltered spot, wildflowers and garden plants flourished as if they were in a hot house. The gigantic gunnera leaves, lofty bamboo and rhododendrons told him thatthe grounds must have once been spectacular, yet currently rivalled Jurassic Park.
