Charlie put her spatula down and scraped her finger along the edge, her phone tucked under her ear as she listened.

      ‘So I really think we can do some great new things, Charlie, and if your bus wants to be part of it, obviously with a bit of a shift-around, then of course that would be wonderful.’ Bea Fishington sounded contrite, but she had no reason to be. The Fair on the Field had been a disaster, but The Cornish Cream Tea Bus was not. Charlie knew that everyone back home was following her success online – her mum and dad had been cooing to her about it on the phone.

      ‘It sounds great,’ Charlie murmured. ‘I’m glad it’s worked out so well with your niece, and that … that you’re looking forward to having me back.’

      ‘Beginning of September, I think we said, didn’t we?’

      ‘Something like that.’ Ray jumped effortlessly onto the kitchen table, and Charlie gently lifted him off again.

      There was a pause, and then Bea said, ‘I’m so glad this summer’s been so good for you, Charlie. You’ve spread your wings, really found your place in the world. It’s brilliant. Let me know when you’re back in Ross, or Cheltenham, and we can get together and have a chat before you officially return. I’m sure your mum and dad are dying to see you.’

      ‘They’re really looking forward to it,’ Charlie confirmed.

      They said their goodbyes and Bea rang off. Charlie dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and Ray jumped onto her lap, nuzzling against her hand.

      The truth was, the few times she’d spoken to her parents there had been no talk of the end of the summer and her return home. And Bea and The Café on the Hill hadn’t been troubling her consciousness while Gertie and her markets were working so well. A part of her had believed that Bea wouldn’t want her back. She had seen her sabbatical as an extended period of garden leave, her boss quickly finding a replacement and getting in touch at some point down the line to let her know she was no longer needed.

      Could Charlie really leave Porthgolow? Leave her food market to carry on into autumn, attracting more vendors and customers, but without The Cornish Cream Tea Bus at the centre? She tried to imagine it, and found that she couldn’t.

      While she waited for her trading consent to be reinstated, she had planned to spend her time baking, devising new, delicious cakes and pastries to serve, to take the cream teas for her tours to new culinary heights. And she still would, she decided, spurring herself into action and returning to her bowl of cake batter. She wasn’t gone yet.

      ‘You can’t run Cornish Cream Tea Tours on your Cornish Cream Tea Bus if you’re not in Cornwall,’ Juliette said half an hour later, once Charlie had updated her on her conversation with Bea.

      Charlie gave her third and final cake mix a gentle fold, and then poured it into the tin. ‘So I’ll have a name change. The Cotswold Cream Tea Bus works just as well.’

      ‘You wouldn’t!’ Juliette was acting as if Charlie had committed treason.

      ‘I can’t live with you and Lawrence for ever, Jules. This isn’t my home. You have been so, so generous letting me stay here. It’s beyond the bounds of even the closest friendship.’

      ‘It is not—’

      ‘And Bea wants me back. She’s excited about what we can do at the café. And on the bus.’

      ‘And you sound equally thrilled,’ Juliette replied sarcastically.

      ‘I hadn’t thought about it, that’s all. I’ve been so tied up with everything here.’ She waved her spatula around and a bit of cake mix landed on Ray’s head. He stared at her accusingly.

      ‘That’s because things here are better.’

      ‘You and Lawrence need your own space, and I have to think seriously about what I’m doing next.’

      She could still hear Bea’s enthusiastic voice in her ear and wondered how her mum and dad were really doing without her. They always seemed happy on the phone, but how would she know for certain unless she saw them? Maybe it was time to go back: maybe her trading consent being revoked and the mess with Oliver and Daniel were signs that she’d outstayed her welcome here. The Porthgolow food market would remain, but it could run perfectly well without her there.

      ‘I understand that.’ Jules wrapped Charlie in a hug. ‘Just don’t be too rash with your decision. For what it’s worth, I love having you here, and can barely imagine the place without you in it. Also, I don’t think it’s right that you’re taking on this Mary Poppins role! Sweeping in, fixing the village with your food market and sweeping out again. I might have to confiscate all your umbrellas – and your bus keys, for that matter. If Gertie can’t leave, then neither can you. Besides,’ she added, giving Charlie a fierce look, ‘you still need to talk to Daniel.’

      Charlie stared at the hob, the drifts of flour where she had been less than careful with her ingredients. She made a pattern with her finger. ‘I know that,’ she muttered. She still had to find out who was responsible for her bus being taken out of action, but the thought of seeing Daniel again, after he’d left her with that kiss burning through her, set her emotions spinning.

      ‘You’ll get to see him at the meeting tomorrow, anyway,’ Juliette added.

      Charlie rolled her eyes. The WhatsApp message had pinged onto her phone that morning, encouraging everyone to attend an urgent meeting and asking whether, as she couldn’t open Gertie to paying customers, Charlie would be happy to host it. ‘Any idea what Myrtle wants?’

      ‘Nope,’ Juliette said. ‘But it’s bound to be something important.’

      ‘Bound to be,’ Charlie echoed. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she opened the oven door. Not even the delicate waft of a cooked-to-perfection lemon drizzle cake could lift her spirits.

      Everyone was there. Juliette and Lawrence, Rose, Frank and Hugh, the entire Kerr family – including Jem in her buggy and Jonah sitting poised with a pen and notepad. Myrtle had bustled on board, all business, and Lauren had sneaked in and sat at the back, her white shirt and dark skirt in stark contrast to all the colourful T-shirts and shorts of the other villagers.

      Anton and Stella had been first to arrive, offering Charlie beaming smiles that made her feel slightly unsettled, as if they knew something she didn’t and, just as she was serving pots of tea and laying plates of her lemon drizzle cake on the downstairs tables, Reenie appeared.

      ‘Reenie Teague, as I live and breathe.’ Hugh stood up to greet her.

      ‘I’m not the queen,’ she said, though she was smiling as she accepted his peck on the cheek.

      Charlie looked at all the expectant faces and wiped her sweaty palms down her skirt. But this wasn’t her gig; today she wouldn’t be the one offering suggestions, trying to change the way things were run in Porthgolow. It didn’t stop her being nervous. Maybe whoever had gone to the council was watching and would try to get her shut down permanently this time. She had got in touch with the licensing department just in case, confirming she was entitled to use Gertie for private, unpaid events once Myrtle had asked her to host the meeting. She wasn’t taking any chances. But was that why Daniel wasn’t here? Was he worried about being seen on board a condemned