Page 7 of One Cornish Summer With You
Tammy hurried on with Ruan in tow, already torn about making her impulsive offer. What was she doing inviting a complete stranger into her flat? After only half an hour’s acquaintance? Yet that seagull had given her the perfect excuse to spend a little longer with him and find out more.
The question was, how much did she want him to know abouther?
He might already be wondering what she wanted by inviting him back. He knew almost nothing about her and he certainly couldn’t imagine that she’d already told him one big lie.
Shehadbeen angry with the sea. It was the sea that had taken her father: whether he’d gone into it willingly or not. Since her mother, Debbie, had left when she was twelve, it had been just Tammy and her dad, Neil, and his sudden loss had hit her like a hammer blow.
Actually, she wasn’t entirely alone now, she supposed, stopping outside a shop called the Harbour Gallery.
‘I should warn you,’ she said, keeping her voice light, ‘my landlord will be in.’
‘Does he bite?’ Ruan asked, deadpan.
She chuckled. ‘No, though he definitely barks and he’s pretty protective when it comes to me. My flat’s up there,’ she said, indicating a balcony above their heads. ‘This is his studio and gallery and he lives downstairs too.’
She led the way down a cobbled alley to the side of the gallery. At the rear, she turned a sharp left across a small yard with a weathered bench and an old pub table which had a misshapen mug on it, as if the potter had spent all evening in the pub before he’d thrown it.
‘Tammy!’ A man with grey hair tied back in a ponytail hailed her through the open door.
‘Hi, Davey. Sorry, we’re in a bit of a rush.’
Davey walked out of the studio, cleaning a tin mug in his hand. His bushy eyebrows knotted together as he glared at Ruan. ‘You’d better not be a bleddy bailiff,’ he growled.
‘Not this time, Davey,’ Tammy said with an eye-roll.
‘Lucky for you,’ Davey said.
‘He’s joking,’ she said to Ruan, who mouthed ‘Hi’ and raised his hand in greeting.
‘We’ll be back in a sec. I’ll explain later.’
Davey curled a lip and glared at Ruan. ‘Not sure I want to know.’
A faint jingling came from the shop attached to the studio.
‘You have customers, Davey,’ Tammy called behind her, conscious of Ruan standing by her, clearly dumbstruck.
‘More’s the pity. I was just getting into a new design for a water jug.’
‘Sounds good. Can’t wait to see it,’ Tammy said. ‘We really are in a hurry. Catch you later!’
‘Yeah. Hey!’ he called after her. ‘Any news from the OceanFest people?’
‘Could you hang on a sec?’ she asked Ruan and walked back into the studio. ‘Not yet,’ Tammy said, half wishing she hadn’t even mentioned to Davey that she’d pitched for a slot at the county’s biggest surf and arts festival. ‘I think I’d have heard if I’d been selected by now.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Davey said. ‘They’d be bleddy mad not to choose you.’
‘Thanks, but I think that ship has sailed. Gary at the Arts Centre said he had the nod from them weeks ago. He’s already heard he’s got some space in the art exhibition, so I doubt very much they’ll be in touch at this short notice.’
‘I’d like to go round their office myself and make them put you on their bleddy list,’ Davey declared.
‘Don’t!’ Tammy cried, knowing he just might. ‘It can’t be helped and I’m fine with it. There’s so much competition. Talk about it later. I can have a better look at your new pot, too.’
‘It’s a jug,’ Davey muttered.
‘OK,’ she said with a grin.
Leaving Davey muttering about the festival, she rejoined Ruan. ‘I’m sorry about all that,’ she said, screwing up her nose before extending her arm to guide him. ‘Welcome to the Harbour Gallery. Please come this way!’
