Page 63 of One Cornish Summer With You
‘No,’ Davey snapped, taking Ruan aback. ‘No. You won’t go and tell her that – and correct me if I have this wrong – you nowownthe house she grew up in, and was happy in, and that her father gambled and drank away until he was forced to sell it to a man he hated.’
Ruan felt as though a cobra had struck. Or perhaps only a fiercely protective father figure. Either way, responding with anger would do no one any good.
‘I’m sorry,’ he replied calmly. ‘I wish none of it had happened. The house is falling apart. It needs a lot of money spending on it. I sold my flat and changed jobs so I could restore it.’
‘That’s not the point …’ Davey said.
Ruan stood tall and calm. He needed all his reserves of patience learned from taking the flak from emotional, oftenangry people. Yet this was different: this ire was directed at him personally.
‘It’s not the point, no, and I should have shared this with Tammy first, but now that you know, Imusttell her immediately.’
Davey put his head in his hands again and started muttering. ‘No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
Ruan waited a few moments to allow Davey to compose himself.
Finally, he lifted his head again. ‘Ignore me. I shouldn’t have let rip at you. Like you say, you can’t help it if the old bastard left it to you. Did you ever meet your uncle?’
‘Only once when I was small. I don’t even remember but my dad told me he’d visited the house. I don’t remember why and Dad isn’t sure to this day. I’ve recently found out, however, that my dad once approached Walter for a loan to get him out of a bad situation.’
Davey snorted.
‘I think you can guess how that went. My parents lost all their savings but they managed to make a new start. No thanks to Walter.’
‘Good on them,’ Davey said wearily. ‘And I’m sorry I kicked off, but I am begging you not to let Tammy know just yet.’
Ruan was taken aback. He guessed that Davey didn’t do a lot of begging. He seemed like a proud and strong man.
‘Can I ask why?’ Ruan said carefully.
‘You can, though it’s not going to help the situation.’ Davey’s voice cracked as if words were sticking in histhroat. ‘There’s no easy way of saying this but I suppose I’ll have to get bleddy used to it …’ Finally, he sighed and said, resignedly, ‘I’ve been diagnosed with prostate cancer.’
Ruan reeled. Davey had delivered a sucker punch that took his breath away. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Are you …’ He couldn’t finish the sentence.
‘Going to die?’ Davey said, eyebrows raised. ‘There’s always that possibility but not if I can help it, no. Not yet anyway, but it will be a bitter blow to Tammy and I don’t want her to have any more nasty surprises.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear it,’ Ruan said again, his mind torn between concern for Davey and for Tammy. ‘I wasn’t going to ask what the prognosis was, only if you were having treatment. She’ll surely have to know if you are.’
‘She will and I agree you do need to tell her about Rosewarne, but can you wait until she’s had time to process my news first?’
‘It feels like a betrayal …’ Ruan murmured. ‘But I also don’t want to add to your worry – or hers.’ He paused. ‘I can hold on for a while, if you like.’
Davey sighed in relief. ‘That’s what I want. Somehow, I need to put as positive a spin on this news as I can. The consultant says it’s been caught early and it can be treated. I plan to be here a good while yet but after her mum going and losing Neil, Tammy has been through enough heartbreak. It’s going to be a worrying time for her, probably more than for me.’
Davey put his hand briefly on Ruan’s arm. ‘I had my doubts about you when you first walked into Tammy’s life,but I think you’re a decent bloke. I can see how much you mean to her and I know I can rely on you to keep this from her a while longer – until the right time.’
Ruan nodded, feeling desolate inside. ‘When will you tell her?’
‘Soon, I promise. I just need to pick a moment when the time is right.’
Ruan had no choice but to accept Davey’s promise, except he had a horrible feeling there would never be a ‘right’ time to deliver such upsetting news.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It was always quiet on Tuesdays in the Harbour Studio, which suited Tammy down to the ground after the recent eventful days. In between serving the occasional customer, she spent the morning updating her social media accounts with photos of the festival and replying to messages, posts and emails about her work.
The usual trickle of engagement she received had become a flood. Her follower count across all platforms was climbing by the hour. Her work had been featured in two regional newspapers in its reports about OceanFest, and by lunchtime, she already had three enquiries from potential new clients from a charity, a media organisation and a London ad agency. That was in addition to over thirty requests from individuals wanting proposals, anniversary designs and birthday greetings.
Tammy also had good news about Hattie, who’d been discharged and was recovering at home after her accident. Tammy had rushed out to the beach without taking her phone and arrived home in the small hours the previous evening. Luckily the suspected fracture was a nasty sprain – still not fun, but easier to recover from.
