Page 48

Sybil gasped. ‘Very funny!’

‘Are you in pain?’ Zennor asked, watching Sybil easing herself into the carver chair.

‘I also hit my hip and knee on the way down. Nothing broken, though I’m a bit sore.’

‘I bet. I am sorry this has happened. I’ve made a cuppa. Would you like some breakfast?’

‘Yes. Thanks. A couple of slices of toast wouldn’t go amiss. I didn’t feel like food last night and I need something to line my stomach before I take my painkillers.’

With Sybil settled and eating toast, she brightened up and Zennor broached the subject of trying to cancel and rearrange her storytelling commitments for a week.

Through various phone calls, Zennor arranged it so that, fortunately, she would only lose three gigs and the hotel manager was adamant she could return when she was better.

‘Thanks for doing this. I’m not up to it yet – or rather, I can’t face it, frankly.’

‘I’m your agent. That’s what I’m here for.’ Zennor heard a van outside and peered out of the window. ‘I think it’s a florist’s van. Shall I go and see?’

Sybil shrugged. ‘I’m not expecting any flowers … unless news of my mishap has got round.’

‘I’ll go and see.’

Zennor returned from the courier with a large hand-tied bouquet. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, setting them on the table in front of Sybil.

Sybil leaned back and murmured, ‘They certainly are.’

Gingerly, Sibyl got to her feet and retrieved a gift card from the arrangement. She read it and there was a brief flicker of surprise before she laid the card on the table without further comment.

‘Who are they from? Matt? Shilpa? A mystery admirer?’

‘See for yourself.’ She pushed the card towards Zennor, who noted it was from a trendy new florist in St Ives.

Sybil, so sorry to hear about your accident. Hope you’re back on your feet soon. Best wishes, Trevelyan.

‘Oh.’ Zennor replaced the card on the table. ‘That’s – thoughtful of him.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Sybil murmured.

Zennor glanced up. ‘You sound surprised?’

‘Just feels a bit out of character.’

Zennor touched one of the petals of the roses. ‘Really? I must admit it seems very considerate. He did say he’d gained a new perspective on life lately. Maybe losing his mum really has made him reassess his priorities …’ Zennor glanced at the card again, feeling a warmer glow towards Trev than she had for a long time.

‘Maybe it has,’ Sybil said. ‘I’d better find a vase for them. If I have one large enough.’

‘I’ll do that. You go and put your feet up.’

‘Thank you, my lovely, but I can find a vase. I promise I’ll take a few days off from storytelling but as for all the everyday stuff, I must keep moving. Sitting around with one’s feet up is a sure-fire way of descending into the abyss.’ Sybil rose from the chair more confidently than before. ‘If you want to help, would you mind fetching the secateurs to trim the stems? They’re in the lean-to by my gardening gloves. I’ll dig out some vases.’

The flowers took up two vases and an old wine carafe. They were beautiful and must have cost a small fortune. Trev was given to extravagant gestures so it was typical in one way, but he’d never been a fan of Sybil’s in the past. He’d told Zennor that he found her ‘quirky to the point of weirdness’ and ‘an old hippy’.

He and Zennor had had to agree to disagree, but now the bouquet seemed to show that his attitude had mellowed. He must have known Zennor would hear about it so perhaps it was as much for Zennor’s benefit as Sybil’s. Whatever the reason, it had made a point.

Would he have dropped everything and raced to visit Sybil in the hospital? She doubted it. Trev hated anything medical and steered clear from visiting the sick whenever possible.

Zennor put a vase in the sitting-room window overlooking the sea. Today, the Atlantic was sapphire blue and benign all the way to its hazy horizon.

‘It’s a beautiful day. You could sit outside.’