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‘I didn’t.’ Zennor dropped the bag on her desk and sat behind it, although that metre of wood and air didn’t feel anywhere far enough away from him.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d been dressed as a waiter, wild-eyed, drunk and desperate. There wasn’t a flicker of that in the cool self-assured man before her. Did he not feel any guilt or shame for what he’d put her through?

‘I’ll – um – make us a coffee,’ Roo muttered.

Zennor forced a smile as icy as a blast chiller. ‘Thanks, Roo, but no need. I’m sure Matt won’t be staying long. I can’t possibly think what he might have to say that involves me – us.’

Roo edged away. ‘Well – um – I’ll put the kettle on anyway while – er – Matt explains.’

With Roo having legged it into the kitchen, Zennor was left alone with Matt for the first time since they’d been dating. She’d been angry and hurt and confused when he left for Australia. In the years since, even when her anger had cooled and she’d persuaded herself she’d moved on, she was still convinced he had a hand in ruining her marriage.

And he was still Matt, even though the scruffy surf T-shirts and board shorts of his youth had been replaced by this box-fresh white one and the smart jeans. Even his black Adidas trainers looked brand new. There was something tamed and restrained about this Matt – not that it made his intrusion into her space any easier to deal with.

‘OK if I sit down?’ he asked, already collecting the visitor’s chair from the side of the office.

‘If you feel the need, although Roo and I are very busy. It’s getting towards the height of the season and we have so much to do. I’m sure you’re busy too and I wouldn’t like to keep you from whatever it is you do these days.’ She curled her lip. ‘I assume it’s singing?’

He placed the chair in front of her and sat down. ‘I haven’t sung professionally in a long time,’ he said coolly. ‘My current area is more … property related.’

‘Property related?’ Zennor smirked. ‘How impressive.’

‘Not really. It’s only a job. I never intended to get into property but when my grandad died, he left me his bungalow.’

Her stomach clenched. She’d been going through the throes of her divorce when news had reached her about Harry Veryan. She remembered a wiry yet muscular man who’d been able to take on many of the younger members of the club in races. That was no surprise, given Harry had been a Commonwealth freestyle medallist back in the day.

Even though she had been angry with Matt, her heart had gone out to him and she had wondered how he would cope. She should have messaged him, no matter what had passed between them. She hadn’t even gone to the funeral.

Feeling terrible, Zennor said, ‘Oh. Yes, I heard Harry had passed away. I am so sorry. He was such a lovely man and he always seemed so fit and full of life …’

‘He was seventy-seven.’

‘Seventy-seven …’ Zennor checked herself. ‘I didn’t realise but I suppose I ought to have done. He just seemed young for his age,’ she added, the sting now gone from her tone.

‘It was sudden and it happened while I was working on a job in London so I wasn’t here. Mum and Dad were just about to emigrate to Australia permanently. I can’t help thinking Grandad died of a broken heart.’

‘I – I don’t know what to say … other than I’m sorry you weren’t there.’

‘Nothing I can do now. By the way, I was very sorry to hear about your dad. That must have been a terrible shock too.’

His softened tone brought tears to her eyes and her anger pivoted to grief. ‘Thanks. It was very sudden and he was only fifty-eight.’

‘I wanted to message you with my condolences …’ he said, barely able to look her in the eye. ‘But I – thought it best not to and, to be honest, I was still in a mess over Harry. I was thinking of you and your mum, though. I knew what you must have been going through.’

A fist-sized lump rose to Zennor’s throat and stopped her from answering – not that she had a clue what to say.

When her father had a sudden heart attack on the golf course two years previously, she was still getting over her split from Trev. Hayden Smith’s death had been a huge blow but she’d had to set her own grief aside to support her mother. Trev had moved to Brighton by then to launch his latest bar/restaurant. He hadn’t been able to come to the funeral and she’d thought Matt wasn’t even in Cornwall.

‘I’m sorry,’ Matt said again and for a second, she caught an echo of the man she’d once loved and she’d thought had loved her. Zennor knew that one more sympathetic word from him would result in a flood of tears she wouldn’t be able to stem. Grief caught up at the most inconvenient times.

‘It’s – OK. We weren’t in touch and I didn’t expect to hear from you,’ she said quickly. ‘But why are you here now?’

Matt took a breath, as if he was relieved to be given permission to move on from emotional topics. ‘Grandad’s place was on a big plot overlooking the sea with room for two more houses at the side.’

‘In the dunes at Gwithian, wasn’t it? That’s zillionaires’ row now.’

‘Yeah. He built the place in the seventies. He’d have been gobsmacked to know what it was worth.’ He glanced away awkwardly before continuing. ‘Anyway, I did the place up almost on my own, sold the plots separately and invested the money in some old offices in Redruth. And now,’ he said quietly, ‘here we are.’

‘Here we are? So, you’re permanently back in St Ives?’ She struggled not to sound aghast.