Page 37 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

‘Give,’ he ordered. Ziggy dropped whatever had been in his mouth. ‘Good boy.’ The dog sped off into the house and Nik picked up the scrap of white silk. He dangled it from one finger, his face creased with mirth. ‘Yours, I assume?’

Chloe felt heat flood her face. Snatching her La Perla thong off him she scowled in embarrassment. Ziggy must have nicked it out of her bedroom. At least it had been in the clean pile. Behind them they heard the clatter of a plate falling to the floor. ‘There goes my lunch,’ Chloe said, shoving her thong into her jeans pocket. ‘Again. Should have slathered mustard on. That would teach him.’

‘Tell you what, let’s take Ziggy to the beach. Tide’s out. He can run off some energy and then we can take him to see the scarecrows and grab something to eat. What do you say?’

Chloe glanced at the sky. It was another stunning autumn day, the sky and sea a vivid turquoise, with a brisk wind that whipped up white horses. The cold stung her cheeks, making her feel alive. A walk on the beach sounded far preferable to being cooped up in a small cottage with a mad spaniel. ‘Sounds perfect. Come in while I get my coat and hat.’

For a solid hour, Ziggy ran around in circles on the flat sand of Wheal Kitty Cove’s beach, barking happily and wearing himself out. Nik put him back on the lead and they sauntered up Beach Lane. The first scarecrow they came across was a pirate outside The Smugglers. Dressed in a black coat it had on a fine tricorn hat and came complete with a wooden leg.

‘Heard about Pinky’s efforts?’ Nik asked as a wet and sandy Ziggy dragged at the lead to investigate the pirate’s leg. He clicked his tongue and the spaniel reluctantly came to heel.

Chloe watched enviously. Ziggy refused to do anything she asked of him. She tucked a strand of hair under her hat. It was white wool with an enormous pom-pom and the last time she’d worn it was for a skiing holiday with Jasper. Those days seemed to have faded from her memory; she’d not thought about London or about job hunting for days. ‘I have. Trust Pinky.’

‘He’s an eccentric. Just as well his house is tucked off Beach Lane, out of view of most. It’s a bit insulting.’

‘You know what this village is like. It has a love–hate relationship with tourists. Most businesses here wouldn’t survive from one year to the next without visitors, but they can be annoying.’

‘The entitlement,’ Nik agreed. ‘The parking, the litter.’

‘The second homes and the Airbnbs. Still, can’t live with the tourists but certainly can’t live without them.’

‘Most are fine.’ Nik clicked his tongue at Ziggy again. This time with less success as the dog ignored him. ‘A lot come back year after year. I know one family whose grandparents visited in the sixties, brought their children and now they all come together. Have three or four caravans out on Tregollen Farm.’

‘That must be nice,’ Chloe lied. Her idea of a holiday was a sun lounger and a fat paperback, or a snowy piste. ‘What do you do for holidays?’

‘No time in the summer. It’s all hands on in the Surf School. Then I close it down for the winter and go to Dad’s. I like Sweden in the winter. Proper snow, ice skating, cross-country skiing, maybe a game of ice hockey.’

‘Sounds wonderful,’ Chloe said, this time truthfully, imagining acres of snowy forests and hot chocolate to come home to. It’s not a country I’ve visited.’

Nik smiled at her. ‘You should. Even if it’s for a long weekend to Stockholm.’ Ziggy dragged them up the lane to the bakery. ‘Ah, I see you’ve joined in with the scarecrow competition.’ He peered closer. ‘It’s a fine effort but he reminds me of someone. I can’t decide who.’

Chloe, having spied Pammy sitting at the table in the window, said, ‘Excuse me for a mo, will you?’ She pushed open the door. ‘Hello, Pammy. Thought the café was closed today, what are you doing in?’

Pammy did her arm under the bosom twitch, only this time it was accompanied by a knitting needle. She had a pile of wool on the table in front of her, needles, a pattern, a large woolly figure and a tea tray. ‘Thought I’d sit here for a while. Watch folk going past. Nothing wrong in that, is there?’ she asked defensively.

‘Nothing at all. Bit lonely, though.’

‘Got Pinky Scarecrow out there to keep me company. Ever so many have stopped to admire him.’

‘Good.’ Chloe laughed. ‘Maybe we should have opened up the café after all?’

Pammy sniffed. ‘Maybe.’

‘But it’s good to stick to the hours customers know.’

‘Reckon.’

‘What are you knitting?’ Chloe picked up the woolly figure. It was a woman, knitted in white, with luridly bright yellow hair. She was currently naked.

‘Angel,’ came the short response.

‘Oh, okay.’

‘They get sold on the stall at Christmas. They has a fair on Ticky Tacky. Crafts and the suchlike.’

‘Oh.’ The figure made slightly more sense now. ‘Are those her wings you’re knitting?’

‘Yes. She’ll have a dress and a crown. And knickers, too.’ Pammy shot her a look. ‘Can’t call herself an angel, can she, if she goes out with no knickers on.’