Page 111 of A Secret Cornish Wish
‘No, you shouldn’t complain – not about how famous you are, or how much you get paid to pretend to be someone else. I mean, are you happy outside of that? When you go back to whatever fancy penthouse you’re living in this week and close the door. Are you happy then?’
Rob doesn’t even hesitate. ‘No, not when I’m on my own I’m not.’
‘Then do something about it. Life is too short not to be happy. Especially if you’re lucky enough to have the option to make changes.’
Rob gazes at me, and then to my horror suddenly leans in towards me.
‘What are you doing?’ I say, pushing him away.
Rob shakes his head. ‘Sorry,’ he says, looking confused. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Looking at you then felt like looking at you twenty-five years ago. I just wanted to kiss you like I did back then and hold you in my arms.’
I stare at Rob, my stomach suddenly remarkably calm as the penny finally drops.
‘Rob, I love you,’ I tell him earnestly. ‘You know I do. But I realise now, for the first time, that I love you like all my other mermaids – as a friend. Our time was long ago.’
Rob nods sadly. ‘You’re right. But I’ll always feel like there’s still that tiny spark between us . . . do you feel it too, or is it just my imagination?’
‘I feel it,’ I reply honestly. ‘Sometimes I’m annoyed I feel it, but, yes, it’s still there.’
‘There’s something about your first love that never truly fades away. And that’s what you were, Frankie, my first andonlytrue love.’
As I’m about to try to voice something equally as heartfelt, Rob sways a bit in front of me.
‘Are you all right?’ I ask.
‘Yeah,’ Rob says, blinking hard but still swaying. ‘I think so.’
‘Do you want to sit down?’ I look around and spy a cluster of rocks, the same ones we often used to sit on when we came down here as teenagers.
I guide Rob over to the rocks and we perch on one of the smooth edges.
‘Have you had a lot to drink?’ I ask, realising that might explain his slightly odd behaviour.
Rob shakes his head. ‘No, I’m completely sober. I don’t drink any more. Gave it up a few months ago. I was getting too many headaches with the booze.’
‘Right . . . Have you felt like this before, then?’
Rob shrugs. ‘Occasionally. I just assumed I was doing a bit too much. Burning the candle at both ends, you know?’
‘Yeah, I know the feeling. I didn’t sleep that well either when I was in the worst of my depression. Lack of sleep can mess with your mind.’
‘Are you all right now? I mean, I know depression doesn’t ever truly go away, but you’re on top of it at the moment?’
‘Yes, I’m in a good place right now. My painting helps me a lot. It’s like my therapy.’
‘You’re really good. You should do more of it.’
‘I probably would if I had the chance.’
‘Move here and become a painter,’ Rob says. ‘That would answer all your problems in one go.’
‘Ha ha, yes. I’m sure I could make enough money to live on doing that!’
‘You never know?’
‘Sadly, I can’t take that chance. I have a daughter to support, I need steady and regular income. I’ll figure it out,’ I add, before Rob starts suggesting he support me or something equally as mad. ‘Ifyoufigure out what you want to do next with your career. Something that doesn’t involve filling your face with Botox!’
‘Deal.’ Rob holds out his hand.
