Page 45 of One Cornish Summer With You
‘I promise!’
With a wave, she dashed out of the studio to her van, which was parked at the rear of the building. She’d already loaded it with her tools: the folding rakes and markers neatly stored in a canvas bag; yet she still gave everything a quick check. It was no good finding herself on a remote beach without the means to create her design – and it was even more important today.
Her stomach churned again, as it had on and off since she’d woken after a rough night’s sleep. When she had managed to snatch a few hours, anxiety dreams had beset her. In one, she’d left her tools behind, and in another, she kept having to run back into the flat to collect her phone and money and Davey constantly detained her. In another, bizarrely, she had no clothes on and didn’t dare get out of the van, even though the festival crowds were banging on the windows and asking her why she hadn’t started work.
Laughing the dreams off, she turned on Radio Cornwall where Tiff, the presenter, was already broadcasting from thefestival and interviewing a local band. She was soon out of Porthmellow and bowling along the back roads that only locals knew.
The satnav said she was six miles away when the car lurched and then slowed down. By the judder of tyres against the tarmac, Tammy knew immediately that she had a puncture.
Limping slowly into a field entrance to get off the road, she shouted in frustration. However, she steeled herself. This was the eventuality that she’d planned for and she thanked her lucky stars that she had a decent spare wheel and had allowed plenty of time to get to the festival.
Twenty minutes later, Tammy had successfully changed the wheel and set off. She was on her way again and turned on to the main road. She was a bit hot and dusty from the exertion, but changing it would have taken even longer had a car full of teenage boys not stopped to help.
She was still in good time to make the festival, check in, grab a cold drink and scope out the beach area to mark out her design before the tide had even gone out.
On the main road, the traffic was heavier than usual, but everyone was moving along at a reasonable pace, which wasfine.
In an attempt to calm herself, Tammy turned up the radio, enjoying one of the bands at the festival; the noise of the crowd was incredible. The sun was shining, but there were fluffy clouds scudding over, the breeze was light and cooling. It was the absolutely perfect conditions to showcase her work at its best.
The band were finishing their set with an anthem that had been their biggest hit. Tammy sang along to the chorus with the window down. She belted out the final line when a heap of bad things seemed to happen at once.
Red lights glowed, the car in front swerved into the opposite carriageway, and a huge bale of hay came rolling down the road from a lorry ahead – heading straight towards her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘You havegotto be kidding.’
Ruan swore out loud when he saw his phone. Hector had sent him a message saying that the meeting with Polly Tremain had been put back to 2 p.m. because she’d forgotten she had an appointment with her farrier.
It was a bore, Hector wrote, but incumbent on ‘us’ – meaning Ruan – to accommodate the Tremain estate’s requirements.
Ruan snorted. Even in texts, Hector’s style was from a bygone age, but this morning he didn’t find his boss’s quirks entertaining or amusing. The change of plan meant there was no way he could meet Lady Tandmake it to the festival, especially with the amount of traffic that was sure to be on the roads.
He cursed and cursed again. He’d just put the power tools away, showered and changed into smart jeans, a polo shirt and a pair of Timberland boots, which felt far more appropriate for meeting a former equestrian champion than a suit and tie.
‘I’m not doing it, Hector,’ he declared, ready to call Hector to tell him exactly that.
Before his thumb made contact with the phone screen, he stopped.
Hold on,he thought. He didn’t want to leave a message explaining that he was ditching an important client for a festival, no matter how unreasonable it was to expect him to rearrange his plans twice at short notice.
He supposed he could have lied and said his appointment was medical or urgent … but Hector would probably smell a rat.
There was only one thing for it: he’d turn up at the Tremains anyway and pretend he hadn’t seen Hector’s message. He’d blame his signal – far more believable as Hector was always complaining Ruan lived in the middle of nowhere and was terrified of tech himself.
If Polly was in, and he assumed she was if the farrier was calling round, she might still see him anyway and at least he’d shown his willingness to her ladyship and his boss.
There was no way on earth Ruan was going to let Tammy down on one of the most important days of her career.
The Tremain estate was approached up a long drive across pastureland where cows and sheep grazed under the shade of majestic oaks.
Tremain House itself was a substantial pile made of Cornish granite with outbuildings galore. An old Land Rover was parked in front of the entrance, where the oak door seemed almost crushed by the stone lintel above it.
Ruan parked the Audi next to the Land Rover, wincingat how slight and urban it looked compared to the muddy workhorse of a vehicle. He hoped he didn’t come across in the same vein as his car.
He headed for the front door when he was hailed by a woman. She wasn’t in jodhpurs and a headscarf as he might have expected, but she did have jeans and wellies on, and her ash-blond hair was tied back with a ribbon. All the evidence pointed to her being Polly, but Ruan didn’t dare to presume.
‘Hello! Are you lorst?’ she bellowed.
