‘Is the council deliberately designed like this, so you go round and round in circles and they somehow make money off all the interminable phone calls?’ Charlie Quilter resisted the urge to bash her mobile on the table. She’d been sitting in Juliette’s kitchen all morning, being pushed from one department to the next, trying to get her trading consent for The Cornish Cream Tea Bus reinstated. It was sitting forlornly on Porthgolow’s beach, a gleaming café from which, for the moment, she could not sell a single cup of tea.

      ‘I don’t think the council makes money from phone calls,’ Juliette said, replacing Charlie’s empty mug with a fresh cup of steaming coffee. ‘Besides, don’t you have free minutes as part of your plan?’

      Charlie smiled her thanks and then rolled her eyes as the robotic voice said, for the millionth time, Please stay on the line; your call is important to us. ‘Is it, though?’ Charlie asked her phone. ‘Is it really?’

      ‘Tell me again what Daniel said.’ Juliette sat opposite her, cradling her mug.

      Charlie sighed. ‘Why are men so bloody complicated?’

      Juliette laughed, and Charlie joined in until there was a pause on the line, and she bit her lip, thinking that she might get to talk to an actual person this time. But no, it was just the tape looping. The electronic voice told her again how important she was.

      ‘So, Daniel,’ Charlie said, her stomach twisting when she thought of their recent encounter. ‘He told me that he didn’t shut down Gertie, despite Crystal Waters being named on the notice, then he kissed me and walked away.’

      ‘On the jetty, in the darkness. It sounds so romantic.’

      ‘Or overly dramatic, depending on how you look at it.’

      ‘And how do you look at it?’ Juliette asked. ‘You and Daniel have been so up and down since you got here, but I can tell you really like him. Though you’re being more cautious than you were when you met Stuart; understandably, because he turned out to be a total dickhead.’

      ‘And Daniel had dickhead form before I even met him.’

      ‘Hmmm.’ Juliette looked at the table. ‘Have you spoken to him at all since Saturday night? Any texts? Aubergine emojis?’

      ‘Nothing. I don’t know