Page 40 of One Cornish Summer With You
‘I later found out that my dad had borrowed some of the cash against our house, thinking he’d easily get the investment back when his army mate’s business took off. Except it didn’t. It flopped spectacularly and, cutting a long story short, my parents had to sell the house. My mum wasn’t super healthy at the time. She had a burst ulcer and had to have an emergency operation.’ She saw him shudder. ‘I’ve never been so scared in my life. She nearly died.’
‘That must have been horrendous.’
‘It was bad, but we got through it. I still have my parents and they’re OK. I shouldn’t moan. What you’ve been through is far worse. You lost your dad.’
‘What happened to you has still left its mark. Now Iunderstand why you became a lawyer. Was it to save other people from the mistakes your father made?’
‘Yes, in a way.’ He laughed. ‘It seems ridiculous now, but I was young and thought I could do anything. I think at the time I’d hoped that one day I could get the money back for my family, but of course I couldn’t. It was too late and anyway, they survived. Though my dad doesn’t trust anyone now. It’s sad. He doesn’t like to let new people into his life, and he tries to stop my mum doing the same. His world is smaller now.’
Tammy took a moment before responding. ‘It’s a shame, but I do get it. An experience like that leaves scars. You think you’re handling it, yet you begin to realise that you can’t simply bounce back. Things can never be the same …’ She squeezed his hand. ‘But that shouldn’t stop us trying to move on and I do want to. So, why don’t we have another drink and start all over again as if we only just met?’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Oh God. It was actually going to happen, Tammy thought as she drove from Porthmellow to the festival site near Perranporth on the Monday before the festival.
Since their ‘restart’ at the Brew House, Tammy had met Ruan for dinner at a pub in Mousehole and they’d messaged and called each other every day in between their various work commitments. However, that Monday morning he’d gone back to Bristol for a law society conference and was staying with his parents but promised he’d be back for the festival.
The stands were now under construction on the beach, making the event – and her part in it – seem scarily real.
Prior to being selected as a performer, Tammy had viewed with envy the billboards that declared how ‘awesome’ and ‘inspiring’ and ‘spectacular’ it would be. While waiting at some traffic lights a few miles away, she was even able to read that one of the attractions, admittedly near the bottom of the bill, was: ‘Amazing Sand Art’.
That was her. She was expected to be ‘amazing’.
Her stomach went into a spin cycle.
A horn tooted behind her. The lights had turned green while she’d been fretting.
She drove on, reminding herself that today was only a recce, not the actual day, and that checking out the site would help her feel prepared and calm her nerves.
Over the years, Tammy had watched OceanFest expand from its origins as a surfing festival with a few local bands to a three-day arts and music spectacular. Its unique setting on the Atlantic coast had made it a firm and lucrative fixture on the calendar, featured in guidebooks and national newspapers. Although she’d been several times before, it was one thing dancing to the music and enjoying the vibe with her mates and quite another to be at the heart of the performance herself.
With the site looming ahead, she considered turning around and driving home, ready to email the organisers and tell them she couldn’t do the gig after all. Then she heard her dad’s voice telling her not to pass up the opportunity and Ruan’s rational, sensible side saying the same: seize the day.
A man in a hi-vis loomed in the window of her van at the site entrance. ‘Pass, love?’
Tammy scooped up the lanyard that had been sent to her by courier.
He grunted in grudging approval. ‘You’ll need to show that to get access to the performance area,’ he said, waving her towards a parking area packed with vans and low-loader trucks.
From the clifftop car park, the scale of the venue became even clearer. A large covered stage was under construction, along with two smaller stages and a bank of arena-styleseating, presumably for VIPs. Scores of people were scurrying to and fro, and a tractor was transporting materials across the sand.
Tammy had never worked on Perranporth beach before, let alone in arena-style conditions. Drones, stewards, stages, security … this felt as if she was going to perform at Wembley. Her legs went slightly wobbly at the prospect.
It was as far removed as possible from the comfortingly familiar beaches and secluded coves she was used to, which made it all the more important that she’d shown up today to scope out her canvas.
She knew that the area reserved for her artwork was situated at the far end of the beach away from the performance stages, so there was that at least. The cliff rose above that part of the beach, enabling people to have a bird’s-eye view of her work. The organisers had assured her that the edge would be barriered off and plenty of stewards would be on hand to make sure no one wandered too close.
They’d also arranged for a drone operator to fly over the design, taking photos and videos as she created it. Tammy’s friends had occasionally filmed her creations with a drone, but she had yet to invest in her own. After this event, she’d have to buy one and learn how to use it properly. She’d also have to be more conscientious about creating content for her Instagram page, something she’d neglected while she’d been so busy helping Davey.
On her way down the road to the café bar above the beach, now the nerve centre of the festival, she had to show her pass twice to uniformed security guards.
You can do this,she kept murmuring to herself, feeling the sand under her feet at last.It’s only sand and the sea.
To her relief, there was almost no one at the far end of the beach where she would do her installation, so she aimed for that, phone and sketchbook in her bag to take pictures and get a feel for the landscape.
She was just passing in front of one of the stands when someone hailed her from a scaffolding platform. The voice was loud and very familiar.
‘Tammy!’
