Summer on the Little Cornish Isles: The Starfish Studio. Phillipa Ashley
I’m wasting my life. We both are. All the bloody commuting; I dice with death every day on that M42. The traffic jams, the constant targets at work. Is that really living or just existing?’
Before Poppy could reply, there was a shout from behind. Turning around, she saw a dark-haired man jogging towards them from the Starfish Studio. As he drew near, she did a double take. The guy reminded her in a strange way of the gallery owner, even though he was fifty years younger. His features – the strong straight nose and the chin with its dimple – were just the same. His expression though was serious, as if he was worried about something.
‘Everything OK?’ said Dan, frowning as the man caught up with them.
‘It is now – I was worried I might have just missed you.’ He smiled and his face lit up. Poppy felt as if the sun had been switched on.
‘Missed us?’ she said, unable to tear her eyes from him. His looks were so striking, they took her breath away: he had jet-black hair that brushed his neck. His eyes were almost as dark and the skin of his arms and face was tanned as if he was of Spanish heritage. Her face coloured as she realised she was probably gawping at this extraordinary man.
‘My grandpa Archie asked me to give you this.’ He held out a stiff paper bag.
Dan frowned. ‘We haven’t left anything behind.’
‘Oh no. It’s a gift. He saw your wife admiring this painting of the studio, so he thought she might like to have it. I’m Jake Pendower, by the way.’
Poppy smiled awkwardly as the man held out the bag, but neither she nor Dan made any attempt to take it. She had adored the picture but didn’t dare push her luck with Dan.
‘Thanks, Jake. That’s a lovely thought but we can’t pay for it. I’m afraid we’ve run out of money. You only take cash, don’t you?’ said Poppy.
‘Actually, we do take cards,’ said Jake. ‘Just so you know.’
‘But we’ve definitely used up our holiday budget and we’re ready to get the boat,’ said Dan.
Poppy cringed. It was embarrassing to be chased after by this man, trying to sell them the picture, but Dan sounded a bit brusque.
‘No.’ Jake smiled. ‘You misunderstand me. The picture’s a gift for your wife. Grandpa noticed her looking at it and thought she might like to have it. With his compliments.’
‘Oh, how lovely! Dan – that’s so kind, isn’t it?’
He shot her a warning glance. ‘Yeah, but we can’t accept it. You’re running a business. You shouldn’t be giving things away if you want to make a profit.’
‘It’s Grandpa’s business. It’s his decision and …’ Jake gave a wry smile. ‘It’s not unheard of for him to give pictures away on impulse to people who clearly love his work.’ He turned his gaze on Poppy and she melted a little when she realised that, with the sun on them, his eyes were the exact colour of burnt caramel.
Dan shook his head. ‘Sorry, mate, we can’t accept—’
Poppy cut across him. There was no way she was leaving without that painting. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Her fingers brushed Jake’s as she accepted the bag from him and drew out the small square painting of Starfish Studio, with its contented ginger cat. The scene was even more beautiful and the colours and light even more dazzling than she’d remembered in the gallery, but it was eclipsed by Jake’s amused smile.
‘Thank your grandpa for this. I’ll treasure it.’ She was embarrassed by the heat creeping into her cheeks and her physical response to Archie Pendower’s grandson. It wasn’t right while Dan was by her side – it wasn’t right even if he hadn’t been – but she couldn’t help herself. She could hardly bear to look at Dan, so she made a play of putting the picture back in its paper bag.
Dan made a big show of checking his watch. ‘We’d better get going. Thanks for the free picture. You’ve obviously made Poppy’s day.’
She cringed. Dan’s holiday spirit had clearly evaporated. Maybe he was thinking of their return to work, which was enough to depress anyone.
‘It was a pleasure. Hope you have a safe journey home,’ Jake said cheerfully.
‘Thanks,’ Dan grunted.
A horn tooted.
‘Don’t miss your ferry,’ said Jake, then let out a small gasp. ‘Oh God. I’ll have to run too. I was meant to be meeting my fiancée at the harbour five minutes ago. We’re going sailing.’
Dan put his hand on Poppy’s back and started to steer her away from Jake as the boat tooted again.
She clutched the picture to her protectively. Of course, Jake had a fiancée and she had a boyfriend. It was clearly time to get back to the real world. ‘Goodbye, Jake. Have a good sail and congratulations,’ she said brightly.
‘Thanks,’ said Jake. ‘Hope to see you again one day.’
‘Poppy! Come on!’ Dan was halfway down the jetty now, leaving her to jog to catch him up.
She risked a quick glance behind when they reached the boat but Jake had already gone.
Once they were on board, Dan turned to her. ‘Why did you congratulate him?’
She had to regain her breath before she replied. ‘On g-getting engaged. H-he said he was meeting his fiancée.’
‘Humph.’ Dan turned to look at the view, but a few moments later, his arm snaked around her back and he kissed her cheek. She held on to her purchases while the boat started to rise and fall with the swell. She hoped she’d get to St Mary’s without feeling sick, but even if she did, it would be worth it to have visited the studio.
Dan kept his arm around her and stared out across the ocean, lost in thought.
‘That was fate,’ he said a few minutes later, out of the blue.
She tore her eyes from the view. ‘What do you mean “fate”?’
‘I don’t know exactly, but I wasn’t joking: I’m sick of the commute and the daily grind. I want to do something different.’
Taken aback, she pushed the hair out of her eyes as the boat cut through the waves. Dan didn’t believe in fate and he rarely did anything impulsive. She was the one inviting strangers they’d met five minutes before to stay with them ‘whenever they liked’ or blowing their holiday budget on handmade glass coasters. Dan was the sensible, practical sales manager who had the household finances on an Excel spreadsheet and the council bin chart pinned up by the back door.
‘That guy – Jake – chasing after us with the painting. I thought he was trying to flog us extra stuff at first, but now, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should see it as a sign.’
She gasped. ‘A sign? You don’t believe in any of that hippy-dippy rubbish. I don’t understand.’
He shrugged. ‘Not a sign then, but a wake-up call. You love it here and I’ve never seen a place have an effect on you like this one has. Your eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when you looked around the gallery and you’ve been, well, kind of glowing ever since that Jake bloke brought us the painting. In fact, you’ve perked up since we set foot on the island full stop and, I must admit, this holiday has made me think too. I’ve not been happy at work for a long time.’
‘Really? I know our lives aren’t perfect, but I didn’t realise you were unhappy.’ She squeezed his arm, and a pang of guilt struck her. She’d been mooning over a stranger – even if only for a few minutes – and her own partner had been hiding his unhappiness. She hugged him. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I don’t want to waste the rest of my life selling front idlers and bottom rollers. Do you really want to spend the rest of yours telling people how wonderful