Breakfast Under A Cornish Sun: The perfect romantic comedy for summer

Around twenty minutes later, after Greg had taken the family’s order and Izzy and I had finished our food, the kitchen’s doors swung open. George stormed out and pulled off his name badge. He threw it onto one of the tables and then hurried past us, before leaving the building. Tremain appeared a few seconds later.

‘All sorted?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ muttered Tremain and shook his head. ‘George seems to have reacted to a flying splat of carrot purée, as if it were a hand grenade that might threaten your life.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, my apologies for this incident. I’ve dealt with it.’

‘Perhaps he just needs time—to adjust?’ Izzy said.

Tremain shrugged. ‘Mother and I have made it quite clear to the staff what is expected of them now. Fortunately, so far, most of our team have proved able to cope with the rebranding. But the change in clientele has brought new challenges.’ Looking suddenly tired, Tremain gently took my arm and steered me towards outside, whilst Izzy sat talking to the young waiter. In the evening light, Tremain took another look at my face.

‘The bruise is blackening now. I’d get back to your lodge if I was you, and soak those clothes.’

‘Thanks … um … Shame about George. You wouldn’t think he was such a snob, just to look at him. He seems like an ordinary guy—a granddad type, who loves kids.’

‘Then lesson learnt—never judge a person by their appearance.’

I shifted from foot to foot. ‘Yes, about that, you see, with the soil on your clothes, I assumed …’ Urgh, rambling now.

‘I’ve never been afraid to get my hands dirty and I’d say the best managers get down with the lower ranks,’ he said and walked off.

Ranks? He made his staff sound like an army regiment. I followed him. OK, I wasn’t perfect, but I never found it hard to apologise when I was in the wrong.

‘Wait a minute. Look, I’m sorry.’

Tremain turned around. ‘Whatever. Makes no difference to me. Gardener, handyman, management …’ His eyes flickered. ‘There are worse jobs a man can do.’

My heart squeezed as in that brief second his eyes revealed a degree of … damage. Once again I felt that urge to wrap my arms around his solid frame. What was that all about? Maybe, just maybe, there was a human being below that tough, uncompromising, robotic surface.

CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_730817a6-b8f7-5886-bc26-0e290603150d)

‘We go together, like ramma ramma lamma, dippety dooby dooby, sha na na …’

‘Kate! You just murdered that chorus.’

‘Don’t be cheeky.’ I grinned and glanced sideways at Izzy as she drove along the coastal road. Or rather chugged—the volume of tourist traffic was high, but that didn’t matter as it meant we could enjoy the sea views. I never could remember the exact words to that brill song from Grease