Page 72 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

‘Chloe,’ Ginger warned. ‘Leave now. Go and find Nik. I think you two need to have a conversation of your own, don’t you?’ When Chloe still didn’t move, she added, ‘Don’t you?’

Chloe let out an angry sigh. ‘All right. But if you need me, I’m at the end of the phone, so ring me.’ Glaring at Josh, she hissed, ‘Because unlike some people, I know how to use a mobile!’

Ginger watched as she stomped off in the direction of the surf school. ‘Hope Nik’s wearing armour,’ she murmured. She turned to Josh, now openly shivering. ‘Sorry about that. You look frozen. Let’s go up to The Sanctuary. I’ll make cocoa.’

‘You are some woman,’ Josh said, admiringly.

Ginger put her hand up. ‘Oh no. You haven’t got away with anything, Josh. You left without explanation and after I thought we’d… well, become close. Chloe is right. You hurt me badly but I’m willing to hear why you did it and why you’re back in the village after a week’s non-communication.’ She turned on her heel and marched towards the track leading to The Sanctuary leaving Josh no choice but to follow in her wake.

Ginger made the hot chocolate silently and efficiently while Josh pulled up a chair to Nigella Aga. He kept his coat on and thrust his hands into the pockets, pink-faced with the chill. The kitchen was frigidly silent, save for the ticking of the old station clock on the wall. She’d never realised how overloud it was but then the room was usually a hubbub of talk, music and laughter. In the distance, ‘Love Potion No. 9’ floated up from the funfair, the sound ebbing and flowing in the wind.

Ginger handed Josh a steaming mug and took her place on the opposite side of the table, facing him. Inside she was a confused mess of conflicting emotion: anger, hurt, love, and concern for the man in front of her, but she kept her voice clipped and expressionless. ‘The floor is yours.’

‘What do you want to know?’

Ginger turned her mug around so the handle was in line with the William Morris Strawberry Thief patterned place mat. The mat was well-used, ragged at the edges. I ought to get some more, she thought inconsequentially. These are wearing and are dated and fussy. She was barely holding it together but needed to hear what he had to say. ‘I want to know why you left without saying anything.’

‘I didn’t mean to. Events came at me thick and fast. Like I said, I got Dana to send you an email explaining everything.’

‘And, as Chloe pointed out, you got your assistant to send a personal message?’

‘I know.’ Josh hung his head. ‘That wasn’t cool.’

‘Well, it’s of little consequence as I didn’t receive anything.’

He reared up. ‘You didn’t?’

‘No. Not a thing.’

‘Aw jeez.’ Josh scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked exhausted.

‘So either you’re lying, or Dana is lying or is incompetent and, having met her, I seriously doubt it’s the latter.’

Josh fished out his phone. ‘I’m not lying.’ He flashed his mailbox at her. ‘I wrote it, got Dana to send it as I was heading into a meeting. A meeting that was going to decide my future.’

‘And the explanation is?’

‘I remember you saying the wifi can be patchy here. Maybe it was a techie glitch. Maybe Dana messed up. We had some heavy pressure going on at the time.’

‘All the time?’ Ginger asked incredulously. ‘Are you saying you couldn’t have found any time to get in touch?’

‘Look, Ginger’ – Josh slammed his mug onto the table – ‘I get why you’re angry.’

‘I’m not angry. Well…’ Ginger amended, ‘actually I am angry, I’m bloody furious but mostly I’m hurt. Deeply, deeply hurt. And confused.’

He went to get up but she spread her hands in defence. ‘No. You stay there. I can think slightly more clearly when the table is in between us.’

‘And you can’t thump me.’

‘I don’t want to hit you, Josh,’ Ginger said sadly. ‘I wouldn’t waste my energy.’

Josh bit his lip. ‘I’ve cocked up, haven’t I?’

She blew out a breath. ‘I’d say majorly.’

‘Okay, hear me out. Please? Then maybe it will explain why I’ve made such a mess of things. Please, Ginger, give me a chance?’

Ginger shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘Fire away. But it had better be good.’