Page 6 of One Cornish Summer With You
‘Ruan. Relax. There’s a surf boutique in town. It sells cool shirts and smartish shorts. That’s all you need for any meeting in Porthmellow. Trust me.’
Ruan didn’t want to give her any more reasons to think he was uptight – even though he was – but he had to be honest about his situation. ‘You’re right but this isn’t any meeting, unfortunately. I’m here to speak to a bereaved person about an inheritance.’
She paused and wrinkled her nose. ‘Ah. Now I understand. I’m sorry. That’s pretty crap for you and them.’
‘It is sad, obviously, but the bereaved and the deceased weren’t close,’ he explained, touched by her genuine concern for the person he was going to see, and for his own task. ‘In fact, the deceased was a distant relative they didn’t even know existed.’
Her eyebrows met in the middle. ‘That’s even sadder that they didn’t even know they had relations. I’d like to know everyone I was related to.’
‘It happens sometimes when people die without making a will and they’d lost touch with all their relations. In this case, we managed to track down their only heir and I’m off to tell them how much they’ve inherited.’
‘What a weird thing it would be to come into money from somebody you’ve never even met. I think I’d feel a bit of a fraud.’
‘It happens more often than you’d think but I agree, it is a bit random …’ Ruan said, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. ‘Look, I’d really like to introduce myself properly when I’m not covered in strawberry ice cream. Here’s my card. It has my personal mobile number on it.’
He held out the plain white card with its crisp navy typeface announcing his name and title.
Ruan H. Mitchell LLB
Solicitor
Gaverne Legal Associates
At the bottom, it had the contact details of an office in Penzance and a mobile number.
‘Neat,’ she murmured, tucking it into her shorts pocket. Ruan didn’t think she meant ‘neat’ in the American sense, but in the literal sense of uncluttered.
She delved into her own bag and handed over a card. ‘I also have cards.’
It was white too but with a simple design of a rising sun like the one that was fast disappearing beneath them, along with her name, Tammy Pendower.
‘This is the coolest business card I’ve ever seen. Looks like the same design as on the beach?’
‘Similar … though all my creations are different. You can never replicate the same piece twice when nature is your canvas.’ Her gaze flickered over the sands and a brief smile touched her lips. It was fleeting, yet full of such sadness that Ruan wanted to ask her more – so much more – yet he had no right. He didn’t know her at all.
She turned her face to his. It was gilded by the afternoon sun, her eyes dancing with light as if all was right with the world and they hadn’t just been talking about such dark matters.
‘Look, Ruan, your shirt isn’t going to clean itself and you won’t get another in town, but I may have the answer.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘My flat’s only a couple of minutes away,’ she said, then realised instantly how that invitation might sound. ‘So you can borrow a clean shirt of my dad’s,’ she added hastily.
He glanced at the beach and back at her, disbelief etched on his handsome face. ‘But you’ll miss your design being … taken.’
‘No, I won’t,’ Tammy said, pointing over the railings as a wave rolled in and covered the design. ‘It already has.’
When the wave retreated, there was almost nothing left to show where the sun had been.
Normally, she’d stay to watch the sea wash away every last trace, but today felt different. As Tammy walked away, she felt a strange sense of relief flooding through her, as though her dad would have wanted her to turn away and move in a different direction.
That thought made her feel almost light-headed.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Ruan said, breaking the trance-like state she’d been in.
She snapped back to the present. ‘I’m not. It’s the natural way of things. You can’t stop it. Now, come with meand we’ll see about his shirt. Like you said, you don’t have much time.’
Families and kids milled around. Some of the teenage locals were already leaping off the harbour wall into the deeper water by the Smuggler’s. Their parents were sitting outside the pub, drinking pints and Pimm’s, basking in the first real heat of the year.
