Page 2 of Wishes & Waves at the Cornish Bakery
‘Are you sure? Shouldn’t you get it checked out anyway?’ She clenched her keys in her fist, the angular metal sticking into the flesh of her palm. What if he sued? She only had enough money to limp by for a few weeks as it was. Or would her car insurance pay it out? Glancing towards her open car door, she resisted theurge to jump back in, speed away and put this sorry mess behind her.
‘Yes, I’m sure. These have steel toe caps.’ He nodded towards his foot. ‘Still flipping hurt though.’
‘I bet it did. I can’t apologise enough. I just didn’t see you coming. I looked...’ She shrugged. What other explanation could she offer?
The man shook his head, his hair flopping into his eyes as he did so. ‘No harm done. I should have looked better. I didn’t notice your reverse lights.’
‘Oh, right.’ Was he apologising to her now? Kneeling down, she picked up his shopping bag and tucked the runaway orange juice inside. Carefully, she picked up the egg carton and checked the eggs inside. Miraculously, only the two that had made a bid for freedom from their cardboard container had smashed, the remaining four having survived the fall. Standing up, she held the bag out.
‘Thank you.’ Taking the bag from her, his fingers brushed hers, and he rubbed the dark stubble on his chin as though he were contemplating something. A moment later, he stuck his hand out towards her. ‘Isaac. Isaac Mockett. I’d add it’s been a pleasure but...’
A small burst of laughter erupted from her throat before she gulped it back, the resulting sound a cross between a cough and a gurgle. She swallowed as she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Taking his hand in hers, she noticed his grasp was surprisingly strong for such a slight but tall man. ‘Tilly Matthews. Do you need my insurance details?’
‘So I can sue?’ Taking his hand back, he spotted a packet of biscuits beneath her car and picked them up, slipping them into his bag.
Tilly widened her eyes. Had she just given him the idea? Why had she even offered her details? She looked down at her hands and squeezed the keys a little tighter.
‘Sorry, I’m only joking. As I said, no harm done. I’m sure everything will be back in working order once I’ve had a chance to rest my foot.’ He grinned at her, his hazel eyes taking on a sparkle.
‘Right. Of course.’ She should have realised he was joking. She indicated her car. ‘Let me give you a lift then. That way you don’t have to be walking on your foot.’
He glanced towards her car, his eyebrows raised as though he’d only just spotted the sheer amount of stuff in there. ‘I’ll be okay, thanks. I’ll call a taxi.’
Tilly nodded. It was probably a sensible decision. Even if he wasn’t worried about her lack of driving skills, being as she’d just run his foot over, he likely wouldn’t be keen to sandwich himself between a laundry basket and a bin bag of clothes whilst balancing a kettle on his lap. ‘Again, I’m sorry.’
‘Easily done. See you around.’ Holding his hand up in a half-wave, Isaac turned.
Watching him hobble across the car park towards the restaurant, Tilly raised her hand to her forehead and massaged her temples. How hadn’t she noticed a fully grown man walking behind the car? She groaned. She needed to get away from here. From him. And from anyone else who may have noticed the incident. She looked toward her car. She was in no state to get behind the wheel again. Nope, she’d likely bash into someone else or knock a car wing mirror off or worse, her hands were shaking so much.
A walk though? Yep, she could cope with that.
Stepping forward, she opened the boot before shifting the boxes and bulging bin bags until she wrapped her hands around the strap of her handbag. The word handbag was over-glamourising the tatty old over-the-shoulder bag she used on her rare trips out, but it had been her mum’s and she was proud it was still in use.
After closing the lid of the boot and locking her car, she turned and leaned her back against the hot metal of the side of the car and ran her fingers over the cracks and pen marks in the old leather of the bag. She’d love it to tell her its story, to tell her where her mum had used it, the adventures they’d been on. She might have even worn it here in Penworth Bay.
Pulling at the clasp, she opened it and slipped out the photo wallet her aunt had given her. Taking the first grainy photograph from the stack, she turned towards the beach and held it up. She grinned. Yep, this was definitely where someone had taken the photograph. Well, not the car park, but judging by the red and white striped lighthouse to her left, which matched the one in the picture, she’d guess they had taken it not far from here.
It felt strange standing here in the bay where her parents had met, where her parents had fallen in love. Strange but wonderful, all at the same time.
Replacing the picture, she slipped the photo wallet back into her bag, securing the clasp to make sure there was no chance they could fall out. Because her parents’ relationship had been short-lived, the photos she had of her mum’s time in Penworth Bay were the only pictures she’d ever seen or possessed of her dad. Yes, she had more of her mum, somewhere buried in a tin in the back of her car, but these were the only ones she had of the two of them, of their time together.
She looked around the car park. Thankfully, there was no sign of Isaac; he must have gone into the restaurant to wait for his taxi.
Now what? Now that she was here, what was she supposed to do? Apart from trying to put the whole sorry incident of reversing into someone behind her? She guessed the first thingshe needed was to secure a place to stay for the night. In such a lovely place as this and at the height of the summer season too, there must be a pub with rooms or a bed-and-breakfast somewhere, if not a few. All she needed to do was take a wander around the village and see what she could find.
Chapter Three
That was it then. The pub in the bay was full to the brim, with no rooms left, and all booked out for the next three weeks solid, and it was a similar story at the little bed-and-breakfast she’d discovered at the top of the hill. She supposed at least she hadn’t come across the man she’d run over again.
She shifted position on the wooden bench, trying to push all thoughts of him and what had happened out of her mind as she continued to scroll through her phone in search of places within her budget she could stay which were no longer than an hour’s drive from Penworth Bay. Nothing. She’d either rung them all or tried to book online only to have a message pop up to say they were full.
What now? She had her car. She could sleep in that. For the time being, at least, but what about the long term? She needed to find a solution. With Aunt Gwennie’s place having now been repossessed, she didn’t have anywhere to go. Literally nowhere. She didn’t have any family; Gwennie had been the last of her mum’s side of the family. And her dad’s? Well, that was a reason she had come to Penworth Bay, hoping her visit would answer some questions. Questions about her paternal family, questions about her dad. Questions about where she belonged in this world and what she was going to do with her life.
Ha, what was she going to do with her life? She was nearing thirty-five, didn’t have a career and was now homeless. Slumping her shoulders, Tilly drew her bag onto her lap. She’d been caring for her aunt for over seven years now. She’d hadresponsibilities, a routine, a purpose. And now what did she have? The faint memories of what it was like to work a nine-to-five and a CV about as empty as an off-season football pitch.
Tilting her head back, she let the evening summer sun warm her face and listened to the world around her. Holidaymakers were meandering across the cobbles after a day at the beach with towels draped over their arms, carrying picnic baskets, rubber rings and an assortment of buckets and spades. Others were heading down towards the ocean carrying bags of chips, the fragrance of salt and vinegar trailing behind them. Among the tourists were people walking their dogs or going for a seaside amble now that the temperature had cooled.
Opening her eyes, she stood up. She might not have been able to find anywhere local to stay, but one of the shopkeepers might just know of a local gem, perhaps somewhere that didn’t advertise online for whatever reason. It was worth a go. And she needed to hurry, the haberdashery had already closed for the day and the cafe looked as though it wouldn’t be open much longer if the fact the owner had taken in the A-frame sign was anything to go by, so time was of the essence.
