Chapter 1

‘Try this.’ Big Frank Brady placed a small sugar-dusted pie in front of the woman who was sitting on a high stool across the cafe counter from him.

The clattering of cutlery as a couple finished off a huge fried breakfast and the shrieking of a toddler having a tantrum in the corner were only slightly drowned out by Audrey Hepburn singing ‘Moon River’.

‘She’s singing your song, Kara Moon,’ Frank teased the pretty redhead. Then the towering, dark-haired Irishman, who had owned and run Frank’s Café on the Hartmouth Estuary seafront for the past eleven years, went over and twiddled with his beloved jukebox in the corner.

‘So,’ he said, coming back to the counter, ‘what do you think of the mince pie? I’m testing it out ready for the Christmas trade.’

Licking her lips, Kara took a big bite into the succulent-looking pastry. She began chewing, then shuddered and made an ugly face. ‘Ew! That taste, it’s so bitter.’ She reached for the water bottle in her bag and washed down the alien-tasting filling fast. ‘What the hell have you put in there?’

‘Thought I would try an age-old, revered mince pie recipe. You are my guinea pig.’

‘It’s only just October,’ Kara objected in her faint Cornish accent.

‘You know me – I like to be ahead of the game. I found it in a drawer at my old mammy’s place after she died, God bless her, and then came across it by chance yesterday in the back kitchen. It had mice teeth-marks all around the edge.’

‘What – the mince pie or the recipe sheet?’ Frank laughed his deep throaty laugh as Kara continued, with a huge grin. ‘Or maybe you just put a dead mouse in it?’

‘No, just a slosh of Guinness, as well as the usual brandy.’ He took a bite himself, then gagged. ‘Jesus! Me old dear must have been on the black stuff herself when she made these, so she must.’ They both laughed. ‘My Monique already said to just get some of the home-made mincemeat from Alicia in The Sweet Spot. I think she’s right; it’ll be a lot easier.’

‘Your Monique is always right,’ Kara said, ‘and sensible too. I’d follow her advice if you want to keep any of your customers.’ She swallowed a bit more water before exclaiming, ‘Shit! I need to get going. I’ve been waiting on an extra delivery of gypsophila and it should be arriving soon.’

‘How’s it going up there at the market now that you’re Miss Passion Flowers herself?’

‘Really good, thanks,’ Kara said happily. ‘I’m so lucky to be working at something I love, and now that the business belongs to me, I cannot tell you how good it is not being ordered around by Lydia Twist. Old Twisty Knickers was a horrible boss.’

‘Living the dream, young Kara. And you deserve it, you really do.’

Kara glanced through the cafe window and saw the Happy Hart car ferry heading across from Crowsbridge to the Hartmouth quay.

‘Talking of things I love, I’d better take Dad and my Billy a coffee whilst they load on the cars,’ she said. ‘It’s cold work on that crossing this time of year.’

Frank placed four takeaway cups in front of her in a holder. ‘So, that’s you, your dad, your fella and Skye sorted. I think I’ve got the milk and sugars right.’

‘Brilliant, thanks.’ Kara paid and made her way to the door. Frank ran around the counter to hold it open for her.

‘Feck it!’ the big man said suddenly.

‘What’s up?’

‘There’s me going on about them mince pies and forgetting I needed to talk to you about something important.’

‘That’s OK. Let me quickly message Skye and ask her to open the shop up a bit earlier. She can take the order in then.’

While Kara did that, Frank served two new customers with coffee, then came to sit down opposite her in one of the American diner-style booths. Checking her phone, Kara was relieved to see a thumbs-up emoji from her apprentice.

‘It’s about my brother’s boy, Conor,’ Big Frank revealed. ‘To cut a long story short, he needs somewhere to stay for a little while and I wondered if he could rent your flat – the one above the flower shop, I mean. It is still empty, isn’t it?’

‘Is he in trouble?’ Kara asked instinctively, knowing full well what a colourful family Frank heralded from. In fact, Monique moving him down to the south-west of England had probably saved the big Irishman from a life of crime. Selling hooky booze in the guise of a ‘blackcurrant cordial’ or ‘special iced tea’ was his only vice these days.

Not even flinching at her comment, Frank replied, ‘He’s not now.’ Then he put his huge hand on top of Kara’s pale freckly one and added, ‘And you know I would never put you in a difficult position. He’s a good lad, I promise you.’

Kara trusted Frank like family. ‘The flat is empty, yes. I use it more as a stockroom and hadn’t even thought about renting it out, to be honest. But why’s he not staying at yours?’ she asked.

‘He’s a youngster, like you – he’d be bored stiff living way up on the moor with me and Monique. Let me know how much you want, and I’ll pay you three months upfront. Cash, of course.’

Kara thought about it. ‘It’s not very plush and I’ve only got a sofa up there at the moment, so we’ll need to get a bed … and it needs a good clean throughout.’

Frank patted her arm. ‘Just tell me what you need, little lady, and I’ll get it sorted.’

‘OK, if you’re sure. Any idea when he wants it from?’

‘Yesterday.’ Frank grinned his lopsided grin. ‘You know us Brady boys, we don’t mess around.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, let me get you some fresh coffees. These will be cold.’

Kara took a sip of hers. ‘They’re still OK. Don’t worry.’

‘Grand, grand. Right, I’ve got to get everything ready for my end-of-summer-season party on the quay.’

‘Will there be fireworks again?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘You’re so good, doing that every year.’

‘I’m not sure if I’ll make it to the Pearly Gates though, as I do have an ulterior motive. True, it’s a thank you to the locals for coming here throughout the summer, but it’s also a PR ploy to remind everyone that I’m still here all winter long.’

‘That’s allowed and we’d all come anyway. Right, I really must go.’

‘I’ll catch up with you later re the logistics of the flat. And thanks a million, Kara.’

As Star drove to the end of Ferry Lane, she noticed Kara about to hotfoot it up the hill towards the market. Tooting loudly right behind her, she stopped and beckoned her friend over to her Smart car. ‘Get in,’ she called. ‘I’ll take you.’

‘You scared the life out of me,’ Kara told her, climbing in carefully so as not to spill the coffees she was holding. ‘What are you up to, tearing around this early, anyway?’

‘Skye didn’t come home last night. I know she’s officially a grown-up now, Kar, but I wish she’d had the decency to let me know where she was. I didn’t sleep a bloody wink.’

‘Oh, love. Well, she’s at the shop now. She’s just messaged me. Is this the first time she’s done this – stayed out all night, I mean?’

‘Yes, but—fuck!’ Star braked suddenly as a stray melon toppled from a box that Charlie Dillon was carrying and hurtled their way. It was only thanks to her quick reflexes that it avoided being crushed under her wheel.

Kara jolted forwards, causing hot coffee to spill out of the cups she was clutching and onto her jeans. ‘Bloody hell, mate. Be careful!’

‘Don’t you be having a go at me too.’ Star suppressed a sob as she pulled up outside the florist’s.

Oblivious to all this, Charlie Dillon bent to retrieve the runaway fruit and stuck it up his jumper, along with another one. ‘Don’t get many of these to the pound,’ he said in a falsetto voice, mincing around, and then catching sight of an old lady looking, he quickly put them back in the box.

‘Oh, Star, I’m so not having a go. I’ve got to do an early hotel drop, so how about we meet for lunch at Tasty Pasties, and you can tell me what’s really the matter. Say twelve thirty, all right?’

‘You know me so well.’ Star smiled weakly.

‘What is it they say? Sister from another mister, or something like that.’ Kara put one of the coffees in the car’s drinks holder and got out. ‘Get that in you,’ she said. ‘I’ve already had a sip and there’s sugar in it, but it’s wet and warm.’ Then waving goodbye, she turned and made her way through the glass-fronted door to her personal domain: the beautiful and sweet-smelling florist’s called Passion Flowers.