On Friday morning, Sam had been to a pre-festival briefing at the harbourmaster’s office when she received a call from Chloe to say that her first night back together with her daughter had been a positive one. She stopped on the quayside to have a quick chat. Chloe insisted on resuming some of her duties later in the day, which was a big relief to Sam who felt overwhelmed with responsibility. She kept telling herself that she always felt like this on Festival Eve, but she hadn’t liked the sound of the forecast that the harbourmaster had passed on.
Grey clouds mustered on the horizon like an army waiting to strike. Heavy rain would put a huge dent in the festival attendance, but more importantly they had to make it to festival morning with an intact marquee and Chef’s Theatre. The wind had freshened significantly while they’d been inside for the briefing, thought Sam, holding her hair off her face. The harbour office was an exposed spot anyway, so that was nothing unusual. Seagulls fought the breeze, hovering over a trawler chugging into the harbour to land its catch. Others gathered on the harbour wall, their raucous cries filling the air.
She saw Gabe waving from outside the Net Loft and then start jogging to meet her. He was in a T-shirt and shorts, his strong calves tanned by the sun. The air was humid as if it was storing up an epic downpour. Sam felt hot and shivery.
‘How’s it going?’ he asked.
‘Manic as ever. Niggling little problems, but that’s normal. It’s the forecast that bothers me more.’
‘I saw on the news.’
‘Troy was full of doom. “The last time I saw clouds like that was over Treverrow in ’fifty-seven. They were mopping up for weeks and roads were closed till Christmas.”’ Sam imitated Troy’s gloomy voice.
Gabe laughed out loud. ‘Gotta love Troy. Don’t worry. I think the worst of the rain and wind will miss us.’
‘I hope so. The Met Office said they couldn’t predict exactly when and where it will land,’ Sam said, determined to be optimistic. ‘Though I’m worried about the marquee.’
‘It’ll be fine, I’m sure.’ He rested his hand on her bare arm. Her lips tingled with the memory of their other skin on skin contact: the kiss after Chloe’s party and the look in his eye in the kitchen at Stargazey. He took his hand away. ‘And hey, if it does end up in Mount’s Bay or knocking the roof off a house, I guess you’re well insured.’
Sam rolled her eyes. ‘Thanks. I’ll sleep easy knowing that. I have to go …’ She didn’t want to leave him but she didn’t trust herself to linger or let herself wonder about her future – their future – on the eve of the festival. ‘There’s a row over some of the stalls. Two fudge makers have been accidentally allocated spots side by side and they’re not happy.’
Gabe whistled. ‘Oh, Fudgegate. Sounds nasty. Call me if the confectionery starts flying. In fact, call me for anything. I mean that. I’m going to a rehearsal in the Chef’s Theatre later, but I’ll be around the Net Loft for a while, talking to the architect and making sure it’s ready for tomorrow,’ he said. He’d kindly offered to let the volunteers and emergency services use the Net Loft and its facilities as an extra rest area during the festival.
‘OK. Thanks again, and for the pie making.’
‘You’re welcome … but maybe you should see what the customers think first.’
She laughed.
‘Seriously, if there’s anything else I can do for you, I’m here whenever you need me.’ Sam could think of a lot of things, none of which she dared say out loud.
‘I will,’ she said, a little croakily. ‘See you tomorrow morning then?’
He gave a salute. ‘Bright and early.’
She hurried away, pulling out her phone pretending to look at it but simply desperate to put space between them before she said or did something she might regret.
Despite what Sam had told Gabe, sleeping easy was the last thing she did that night. Lying in her bed late on Friday evening, listening to the wind howling around Wavecrest Cottage, all she could think of was the marquee flapping wildly like a giant bird, before it took flight and cut a swathe through the cottages next to the harbour. She could hear waves battering the beach below the cottage.
It didn’t help that she’d taken a call from the professional security firm earlier in the evening, saying they weren’t prepared to leave anyone up on the field ‘in the current conditions’. Sam was still a little concerned about the possibility of sabotage but she had to agree and hope for the best; there was no way she’d ask any volunteer to spend the night in that marquee.
It was unlikely, but all the same, she knew she wouldn’t sleep until she’d gone to check that everything was OK. She crept downstairs, pulled on wellies, a fleece and a waterproof, grabbed a head torch from the porch and headed out. The rain started when Sam reached the field, like fine needles against her skin. There was a tang on the air, as if it was laced with salt and ozone from the sea. Torchlight swept the field as Sam circled the marquee. She froze momentarily before Gabe’s voice cut through the night.
‘Sam? Is that you?’
A beam flickered and Sam blinked in the light. ‘Yes. What are you doing here?’
Gabe lowered the torch and jogged to her side. ‘Same as you, I’m guessing. Checking the marquee’s still standing. What a night!’
She was more relieved to see him than she’d ever admit. ‘Just what we needed.’ She had to raise her voice to compete with the wind and rain, the flapping of canvas and clanking of ropes and metal.
‘What’s that noise?’
He pointed to the tent. ‘There’s someone inside.’
‘Oh God. There’s no security. It might be someone trying to sabotage the tent. Maybe the same people who vandalised the van. I’ll catch them red-handed!’
She darted towards the tent flap, but Gabe pulled her back. ‘No, you won’t. You’re not tackling some stranger in the dark. I’ll go.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t know who it is. Stay here.’
Gabe moved towards the opening. She followed behind, but before they’d reached the entrance, the marquee flap lifted and a tall man with a mobile phone emerged. For a fraction of a second, Sam was startled at the pale, angular face until she recognised Ben. A Ben without his Goth make-up on, but wearing his biker leathers.
He lowered his mobile. ‘I was checking the inside of the marquee. I couldn’t sleep a wink,’ he muttered as if he’d been caught committing a crime.
‘Us too.’ Sam joined him at the entrance. ‘How’s it looking?’
‘One of the external guy ropes had worked loose but I’ve fixed it. Inside, it’s looking fine and everything seems to have held so far. I don’t think there’s any more we can do.’
‘I was worried it might have been sabotaged,’ said Sam.
‘I don’t think it was deliberate,’ said Ben. ‘If someone really wanted to destroy the marquee, they’d have done a lot more than loosen one guy rope.’
‘Ben’s right,’ said Gabe. ‘But we can have a quick look ourselves if you want to set your mind at rest.’
‘No. No …’ She glanced at Ben. ‘I trust Ben’s judgement. Thanks for coming up here.’
He shrugged. ‘No problem,’ he muttered. Sam smiled to herself. He might be a man of few words but he was trustworthy and kind. He only needed a bit of confidence … although Zennor seemed to like him ‘just as he was’. Not everyone was an extrovert or the life and soul of the party.
There was a shout from behind and more wavering torchlight. ‘Sam! Ben!’
Zennor galloped over the sodden grass in wellies and a Puffa coat. ‘I heard you go out and I phoned Ben but he was already up here. I came to help.’
Sam flashed the light at her. Spangles shimmered at the top of her wellies. Zennor must have come straight from bed in her sparkly unicorn onesie.
‘Panic over. We’ve checked out the marquee and it’s OK. Thanks for getting up.’
‘No probs.’
Secretly, Sam was crossing her fingers. She was still anxious about the marquee but there was a kind of strange comfort in knowing that everyone else had had the same fears and had turned up too. ‘We’ll have to hope that it stays that way,’ she said.
Zennor pinched the furry hood together to stop it blowing off her head.
Ben lifted his phone. ‘Thing is, I’ve already phoned the marquee contractor. They were called to another marquee on the cliffs above St Agnes because the storm is even worse up there, but they’re coming here straight afterwards to double check everything,’ said Ben.
‘Great idea, Ben. Thanks!’ said Sam, amazed that he’d taken the initiative.
He looked down at the grass. ‘I thought you had enough to do.’
Zennor linked arms with him. ‘Aww, that’s lovely of you, Ben.’
It was too dark to see if Ben blushed, but he muttered something inaudible in reply.
Sam wiped rain from her eyes. ‘It is, and now, I think we should all go home to bed,’ said Sam. ‘Come on.’
They all trooped off together, but they hadn’t even reached the edge of the field when torchlight flickered in the gloom.
‘Ho there!’
Sam squeezed her eyes shut to avoid a beam to rival Wembley’s floodlights. She peered through her lashes, wincing at the shadowy figure behind the glare. ‘What are you silly buggers doing out here?’
The beam dropped. It was Troy, clutching an industrial-sized torch in one hand while he held onto his hat with the other.
‘Same as you,’ said Gabe. ‘Checking the marquee’s still standing. You can go back to bed. It is.’
Troy cackled as he reached them. ‘We’re a daft lot. Bit of rain and a breeze never hurt nobody. I’d never have bothered turning out myself but Evie was giving me earache until I did. Me with my shoulder still recovering too. She’d never have shut up unless I came out and put her mind at rest.’
Zennor laughed and Sam heard Ben chuckle softly.
‘Yeah. We’ll believe you,’ said Gabe. ‘There’s no need for Evie – or you – to worry. We’ve all given the marquee the once over and the contractors will be here at dawn to make sure it’s OK so you can go home to your bed.’
Troy swept the torchlight over the marquee as if he still wasn’t convinced, then huffed. ‘S’pose it’ll be all right. For now,’ he added ominously.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Sam. ‘C’mon, let’s get out of this rain.’
Zennor touched Troy’s arm. ‘Shall we keep you company on the way home?’
‘May as well,’ said Troy.
Sam made to move, but Gabe caught her arm lightly with his hand. ‘We’ll be along in a minute,’ he said. ‘Sam wants to have a quick look at the generators.’
‘They won’t have blown away. They weigh a ton,’ said Troy, flickering his torch over Gabe and Sam like a border guard catching escapees.
Gabe’s hand tapped the small of her back. What was he up to? ‘Even so, better safe than sorry, eh?’
Sam stared at him but didn’t say anything. What was this ‘we’ about?
‘Can we please get back to bed?’ Zennor sounded desperate and cold. ‘See you in the morning. Oh wait, it already is the morning. Don’t stay out too late, you two.’ Her voice was laden with irony. Sam cringed. People were jumping to conclusions.
‘Let’s go,’ Zennor said to Troy. Ben led the way, his head torch nodding ahead of the unlikely trio before vanishing through the gate to the field.
‘You and I could always take a short cut down the coast path,’ Gabe said.
Sam wiped rain out of her eyes. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? We can’t go that way. It was dodgy enough on my way up and the wind’s worse now, not to mention the waves.’
‘You’re probably right. We should play it safe.’ His eyes glinted. Sam knew he was challenging her, just the way he’d done when they used to tombstone into the harbour.
‘We’re not teenagers now. I’ve too many people relying on me to stay alive. We both know this is a bit hairy for a summer storm.’
He laughed. ‘You’re probably right. We should take the road.’ Gabe peered into the darkness as a wave thundered onto the cliff. ‘I’d forgotten how brutal a Porthmellow storm can be. And how bloody magnificent.’
She laughed at him, high on adrenaline and sheer relief. He was soaked, and his dark hair was plastered to his head. Water ran down his face yet he’d never looked happier. Sam felt buoyant.
‘I’ve missed it here.’ He looked around him and back down at Sam. ‘Missed you too.’
Her heart skipped a beat and a few more to boot. She’d missed him so much herself. Just how much she dare not tell him. She wanted to but she didn’t trust herself. It would mean taking a step she’d vowed she never would. A step towards forgiving him and betraying Ryan.
‘Come back to the house with me,’ Gabe said.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’
‘I’m only offering you a hot cocoa. Nothing else.’
Did she really believe that? She wasn’t sure. ‘I can get cocoa at home. It’s two o’clock in the morning and I should be going to bed.’
‘Is there any point now?’
‘Maybe not but that doesn’t mean I should come to your place.’
‘You keep saying “should”, Sam, as if you’re afraid of something. If it’s me, you needn’t be … I won’t push you into anything you might regret.’
‘I’m not afraid of you,’ Sam declared. Only of myself, she could have added.
‘Look, let’s at least walk that way together and then you can decide once we’re up there. There’s no harm in that, is there?’
She shook her head and they walked off into the night towards both their homes. All the way, Sam thought of Zennor and her loaded comment about not staying out too late. If she did decide to go back to Gabe’s, Sam should text her in case she woke and worried where she was, unless Zennor really had guessed what might happen between them. And, man, she wanted to go into his house, even though she knew, somehow, that she’d probably be taking a leap into the unknown, in so many ways.
‘So, are you coming in?’
Gabe stopped opposite Wavecrest. In the streetlight, raindrops glistened on his face and the hopeful look in his eyes was too much for Sam. She wanted to go with him – but what would Zennor think?
‘A nightcap?’ he asked. ‘Whatever you decide, can you make it quick before we both get washed away?’ He smiled and a jot of desire shot through her. She hadn’t felt anything like it in such a long time and it was impossible to resist even though there were still so many questions she wanted answers to. Even though she might not find them, no matter what happened next.
She decided. ‘Just a quick one, then.’
They ran the short distance towards the house, Gabe unlocked the gate and they crunched over gravel. The moon peeked out, lighting up the gothic tower.
‘Dracula’s castle …’ she murmured, recognising the tingle of foreboding and excitement she felt at having decided to go back with him.
‘What?’ Gabe turned from unlocking the studded wooden front door.
‘Nothing.’
He pushed it open and stood back so she could go ahead of him. She had a wobble, momentarily, crossing that threshold. Walking into Clifftop House was walking into the unknown, but she was doing it anyway.