Page 4 of One Cornish Summer With You
‘I – Would you like an ice cream?’ he blurted out.
‘An ice cream?’ she echoed, as if he’d offered her the moon. Then she laughed. ‘Yeah, why not?’
Why had he said such a juvenile thing? He sounded like a little boy. ‘To be honest, I haven’t had one for years. I just – felt like one,’ he said by way of an explanation. ‘It’s hot.’
‘It would be in that suit,’ she replied archly. ‘And I haven’t had an ice cream for at least a week, which is far too long. Plus I skipped lunch.’
‘Better make it a double scoop then,’ Ruan said, his spirits lifting. ‘Any recommendations for the best place to get one?’
‘Loads, but that little kiosk over by the fishing creels is as good as any.’ She pointed at a brightly painted hut on the harbourside.
‘I’ll go and get us one. What do you fancy?’
‘Strawberry, please.’
‘Done,’ he said, avoiding the urge to say it was his favourite flavour too, which definitely would have sounded cheesy and suspicious. He was relieved to have an excuse not to watch her work being washed away but delighted to have an excuse to talk to her.
He was second in the queue at the kiosk before he realisedhe’d left his jacket and laptop bag by the harbour wall, but a glance back reassured him that Tammy was watching over them, or at least standing by them, chatting to two teenage girls.
While he waited, Ruan undid a second button on his shirt, more conscious than ever of how he stood out amid the families and older couples in their shorts and T-shirts. He could say he was one of the few people working on a bank holiday, but in Porthmellow, like every other community in Cornwall and many elsewhere, this holiday Monday was a busy working day.
With its pretty cottages, bustling harbour and beach, the little town in the south-west of Cornwall was clearly a magnet for tourists. With his business head on, Ruan was also well aware that sunny weather was a precious gift for the ice-cream sellers, cafés, gift-shop owners, B & Bs and everyone else who needed to make a living in the town. Several of the businesses there were also clients of his new employer, a law firm based in Penzance.
Today was an opportunity for these businesses to make as much money as possible to help see them through the off-season. Ruan might have been a city boy until very recently, but he knew that life could be tough in a coastal area. Come autumn, fierce storms would batter the Cornish coast, the tourists would hunker down at home, and the worry about surviving through the winter would sully the enjoyment of the quiet beaches and roads for some of the locals.
Ruan wondered if Tammy felt the same. Both her jobs, artist and gallery assistant, must be highly seasonal. Yet hehad the feeling she didn’t care about money beyond making enough to live on.
She’d be a rare one if that was true.
In his line of work, he could count on one hand the number of people he’d met who didn’t care about money. Whether he was administering an estate or advising a client in a dispute over a will, money was always the driving force.
‘Next please! What can I get you, mate?’
His attention snapped back to the red-faced ice-cream man, who looked fed up with serving an endless queue of emmets waiting for cornets and tubs.
When he returned a few minutes later carrying two strawberry cones with chocolate flakes, Tammy was chatting to a bloke around his own age sporting oilskin trousers and a bushy beard.
She was laughing at something the fisherman had said. With their relaxed body language, they were clearly good friends.
He held back a little, not wanting to interrupt, even though the ice cream was melting on to his fingers.
‘See you later,’ the fisherman said when Ruan approached. ‘Let me know how the festival job goes.’
‘Don’t tempt fate, Rory, I haven’t got it yet,’ Tammy warned.
‘You will. They’ll be lucky to have you.’
She held up crossed fingers and, spotting Ruan approach, moved forward to rescue her cone.
‘It’s already melting,’ he said, watching the pink cream trickle down the side of his thumb.
‘I don’t mind,’ she said, licking the ice cream from her own fingers.
Ruan did the same. Wow, the sweet strawberry tasted so good, and it was made even more delicious by the chocolate flake.
‘Good?’ she said after they’d both demolished half their cones.
‘You can say that again. I’d forgotten how delicious Cornish ice cream is.’
