Page 16 of A Secret Cornish Wish
‘Yes . . . that would be fun.’ I try to reply as casually as I can. But my insides are doing somersaults again. ‘Oh, no, wait,’ I say as I remember something. ‘I have to go somewhere after school.’
‘Oh . . . oh, no bother, then.’ Rob doesn’t look at me.
‘I could make later though,’ I say hurriedly, blowing my cool. ‘Say after dinner, about seven?’
Rob smiles. ‘Great! Where shall we meet?’
‘Er . . . what about at the end of the harbour?’ I have no idea why I suggest literally the first thing that pops into my head.
‘You mean right at the end, near the little lighthouse?’
‘Er, yeah.’
Rob shrugs. ‘Sure, why not?’
We’re back at the school building now, and I see Claire waiting for me by the door because we have double French together.
‘See you later, Frankie,’ Rob says as he peels away and turns towards the sports block.
‘Yeah, I’m looking forward to it already,’ I say, far too keenly, the words barely leaving my lips before I regret them.
I turn away from Rob as he heads across the playground and I grimace at Claire.
‘Why did I say that?’ I’m whining.
‘That you were looking forward to seeing him?’ Claire asks. ‘I’m guessing that’s what the two of you were discussing – a date?’
‘No, not a date. We’re just going to hang out tonight, that’s all.’
‘So what’s wrong with saying you’re looking forward to it, then?’
‘I’m trying to be cool about it, that’s why. Instead of saying the first thing that pops into my head every time I’m near him.’
‘Frankie,’ Claire says, pausing as we walk down the school corridor together. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that maybe what Rob likes about you is the fact you’re not cool, and you always say what you think?’
I think about this for a moment and I’m about to reply, telling her she doesn’t get it, when Claire continues.
‘It’s one of the thingsIlike about you. I don’t want a friend who’s trying to be cool all the time, I want one that’s honest and fun to be with. Perhaps Rob feels exactly the same?’
Five
When the school bell rings again later, this time to signal the end of the school day, I walk with my friends back down through St Felix as usual. But, instead of stopping at a shop for some snacks or an ice cream before heading home as we often do, today I leave them and walk up into the part of the town that contains the many fishermen’s cottages that once upon a time would have been home to the population of St Felix. Now, however, the narrow little houses are fast becoming accommodation for the many holidaymakers who visit the town in the spring and summer months.
But not the particular house I’m looking for – Snowdrop Cottage – where my boss from the flower shop, Rose, still lives.
Ah, here it is,I think, pausing for a moment outside a pretty cottage in one of the last rows before the sea. I do hope Rose is as relaxed about me turning down her offer of dresses as she seems to be about most things. I really can’t imagine she’ll have anything I like.
I lift my hand to reach for the knocker, but the door opens before I can get there.
‘Ah, Frankie,’ Rose says, smiling at me. ‘I’m so pleased you came. Come in.’
Inside is a pretty little kitchen with pale blue units, a black Aga stove and a small, round table with four chairs.
‘I’ll make us some tea in a moment.’ Rose gestures to the table where she’s already prepared a tray with some cups and saucers. ‘I’ve laid out the dresses upstairs for you. The light is so much better up there in the sitting room. We’re a bit topsy-turvy here, because of the view you see.’
As I follow her up the stairs, I realise that, unusually, the sitting room is in the upper part of the house, and immediately at the end of the room I can see why. Past a rocking chair and a plump, scarlet sofa with patchwork cushions, is a pair of French windows, and, beyond that, a small balcony.
‘Gosh.’ I walk over to the windows and gaze out. ‘You have a beautiful view here.’
