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Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: The Flower Farm
Phillipa Ashley
Fans of Jill Mansell and Carole Matthews will love this gorgeous new book from the author of the bestselling Cornish Café series.Jess has lived at the idyllic flower farm on the Isles of Scilly her whole life, but when her boyfriend Adam leaves without explanation, Jess discovers that even her little slice of Cornish heaven can be lonely.For the first time in Will’s life, he’s met someone he can’t stop thinking about. But nothing is simple when the woman of your dreams is working for you.Gaby is running away from painful memories, and where could be more perfect than a remote island off the Cornish coast? But to put the past behind her, she must keep moving … however much she might want to stay.Nothing is simple, even on paradise. Will love bloom for the residents of the little Cornish Isles?Authors love Phillipa Ashley’s books:‘Warm and funny and feel-good. The best sort of holiday read.’ Katie Fforde‘Filled with warm and likeable characters. Great fun!’ Jill Mansell‘A glorious, tantalising taste of Cornwall, I could almost taste the salt of the sea air as I read it.’ Jules Wake‘The perfect read for wherever you take your holiday but chances are if you read this first you’ll want to be heading to Cornwall!’ Bella Osborne‘An utterly glorious, escapist read from a one of the freshest voices to emerge in women's fiction today. I loved every gorgeous page.’ Claudia Carroll



Spring on the Little Cornish Isles
The Flower Farm
Phillipa Ashley


Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers
The News Building
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Paperback edition published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Copyright © Phillipa Ashley 2018
Cover illustration © Robyn Neild
Cover design © Alison Groom
Phillipa Ashley asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008253394
Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008253387
Version: 2018-01-24
To my friends Claire and Duncan
Table of Contents
Cover (#u9a33434c-ff3d-5a3c-b3b1-44662907ec5a)
Title Page (#u55baa484-8172-5534-8e9e-3b78ce0bc6a0)
Copyright (#udcf5191a-5d1d-53eb-8afb-7621b729eecc)
Dedication (#u5b744273-4861-5a84-8f27-18cde50bab28)
Author’s Note (#u4e5c4b8a-85b0-5747-a2ec-6f7ee8c1fb86)
Chapter 1 (#u9e484a9c-c070-529f-9cc4-d03924b3224d)
Chapter 2 (#u2041bb22-5b39-57fc-b4e6-b400e845d87e)
Chapter 3 (#u6594fb94-5010-52ef-ba7e-053513628116)
Chapter 4 (#ucb15189a-6ada-5121-b33d-4f12dee67c84)
Chapter 5 (#ua24a67e8-9daa-59a2-95ee-5948a362b8bf)

Chapter 6 (#u5190518d-8f40-5b90-bced-ab5db30395ff)

Chapter 7 (#ub61ca324-6240-54ec-bd73-d9ef22941b56)

Chapter 8 (#u2976268e-3e33-51f8-b204-7bc581985b3d)

Chapter 9 (#u5e5dce7e-37e9-55e6-9b62-0d6f0a6580a4)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Phillipa Ashley (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Author’s Note (#u7b3d71fc-d3ee-55af-84a4-cfce7db8c2d4)
Where are the ‘Little Cornish Isles’?
The Isles of Scilly are one of my favourite places in the world – not that I’ve travelled that much of the world, but I’ve been lucky enough to visit a few locations renowned for their stunning coastlines, including Grenada, St Lucia, Sardinia, Corsica and Southern Australia. There are some beautiful beaches in all of these places, but I think the white sands and jewel-like seas of St Mary’s, St Martin’s, St Agnes, Tresco and Bryher are equally, if not more breathtaking than any of those exotic hotspots.
From the moment I first glimpsed Scilly from a tiny Skybus aircraft in September 2014, I was smitten. From the air, the isles look like a necklace of emerald gems fringed by sparkling sands, set in a turquoise, jade and sapphire lagoon. (Just remember that we’re in the chilly Atlantic, thirty miles west of Cornwall and that it can rain and the fog can roll in. Take your wellies, walking boots and umbrella as well as your bikini!)
Within half an hour of setting foot on the ‘Main Island’, St Mary’s, I knew that one day I had to set a novel there. However, if you go looking for Gull Island, St Piran’s, St Saviour’s, Petroc or any of the people, pubs or businesses featured in this series, I’m afraid you won’t find them. They’re all products of my imagination. While I’ve set some of the scenes on St Mary’s, almost all of the organisations mentioned in the series are completely fictional and I’ve had to change aspects of the ‘real’ Scilly to suit my stories.
On saying that, I hope you will find stunning landscapes, welcoming pubs and cafés, pretty flower farms and warm, hardworking communities very like the ones you’ll read about in these books. I’ll leave it to you, the reader, to decide where Scilly ends and the Little Cornish Isles begin.
Phillipa x

Chapter 1 (#u7b3d71fc-d3ee-55af-84a4-cfce7db8c2d4)
August Bank Holiday Monday
St Mary’s Airport, Isles of Scilly
Oh no, surely that wasn’t her?
Jess Godrevy’s heart sank as she spotted the girl standing guard over a wheelie suitcase in the arrivals hall at St Mary’s airport terminal. She was all of five feet tall and looked as if she’d blow away in the first Atlantic gust. Was this really Dr Gabriella Carter? Her head-and-shoulders photo had given no indication of how tiny she was – more like a sixth-former than a twenty-seven-year-old with a PhD. Just wait until Will saw her …
Jess smiled to herself as Gabriella pulled her case even closer, though no one was likely to run off with it on Scilly and they certainly wouldn’t get away with the crime if they did. Jess had already nodded or exchanged hellos with most of the staff and locals in the terminal, all of whom she knew by sight. None of them was a criminal mastermind, although some people would say Hugo Scorrier came closest. His unruly black Labrador, Basil, was sniffing around people’s luggage while Hugo was deep in conversation with a good-looking, dark-haired man who Jess didn’t recognise. Judging by the stranger’s sharp suit and laptop bag, he and Hugo were probably discussing some big business deal relating to Hugo’s luxury resort on Petroc.
Jess worked her way through the holidaymakers towards Gabriella, hoping the friendly smile on her face would reassure her new recruit.
‘Hi there. It’s Gabriella, isn’t it? I’m Jess Godrevy from the flower farm. Welcome to Scilly.’
‘Oh, thank goodness. I’m so happy to see you.’ Gabriella’s voice was beautiful but so quiet Jess had to strain to hear it over the plane engines and boarding announcements. She was very pretty in an English rose sort of way, with creamy cheeks sprinkled with freckles and a mane of strawberry blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She’d have to be super careful with the sunscreen while she was working outside, thought Jess, ever practical but also aware of her own scruffy jeans, Flower Farm sweatshirt and wild hair. There was never any point in styling it: the wind and the sea spray would dismember any blow-dry in minutes.
‘Someone’s waiting in the car park to give us a lift down to the quay so we can get the island boat across to St Saviour’s,’ said Jess cheerfully. ‘My brother, Will, is busy at the farm. If he’s remembered that you’re coming, that is, and hasn’t decided to go rowing instead. Brothers, what are they like?’
A brief smile flickered across Gabriella’s lips but she still looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
‘It’s this way,’ said Jess, regretting her ‘joke’ about Will, mostly because he might well have forgotten.
‘Thank you so much,’ said Gabriella as if she’d been invited to tea at Buckingham Palace. She was so sweetly polite, Jess was beginning to think she’d hired a mouse to work as a flower picker and packer at the Godrevys’ flower farm. However, during the phone interview a few weeks previously, she’d shown an impressive knowledge of horticulture. The excellent references from the plant nursery she’d worked for during her vacations also proved she must be used to hard work in all weathers.
Jess led the way out of the terminal and through the passengers on the car park. Outside, half a dozen jovial drivers shepherded the new arrivals towards the minibuses that would take them to their accommodation on St Mary’s or down to the quay to the smaller ‘off islands.’
‘How was your flight?’ she asked while they walked towards their lift.
Gabriella pulled a face. ‘Rather bumpy, I’m afraid.’
‘It can be interesting, but at least you got here. It’s not unusual for flights to be cancelled.’
Gabriella’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’
‘In the winter, mostly,’ said Jess, glossing over the fact that the isles could be completely cut off by fog and storms at any time of year.
‘Oh well, I survived on this occasion at least.’ Gabriella’s smile reappeared, this time for slightly longer, lighting up green eyes, flecked with gold. Jess detected a keenness behind them. She’d already noticed that Gabriella took in everything that was going on around her, as if she was storing away a mental snapshot for future reference.
Jess decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. It was no use judging someone on a few minutes’ acquaintance, but if she’d been a betting woman, she’d have staked fifty quid on the flower farm’s newest employee not lasting the week.
Personally, she really hoped Gabriella would stay the course. The farm needed extra seasonal workers for the harvest of early narcissi that bloomed in the mild climate at the start of September, long before any varieties on the mainland. Over the summer, the Godrevys also let out a few holiday chalets and there were also goats and a small beef herd that needed tending to. Thankfully, the farm animals were the domain of Jess’s mother, Anna, who left Jess and Will in charge of the flower growing and holiday business.
‘There’s our taxi and chauffeur.’ Jess pointed towards a very tall, well-built man in his mid-thirties who was leaning against a golf buggy, chatting to two elderly, but sprightly, sisters. They were all laughing and one of the ladies gave the man a hug.
‘Are they friends of yours?’ Gabriella asked, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes and peering at the group.
‘You could say that. That’s Una and Phyllis Barton who run a B&B on Gull Island. The driver’s Adam, my … um … boyfriend.’
Her toes curled at the description, because it sounded so teenage and she was way past that at thirty-five, but what else could she call Adam? They had been dating – and sleeping together – for six months now, although they’d known each other for almost two years. They weren’t living together yet, although Jess was pretty sure that the next step was imminent, given the heavy hints that Adam had been dropping about her moving in to his place.
Phyllis and Una roared with laughter at something Adam had said, and Una batted him coquettishly on the arm. Jess had often teased him that the Bartons were his personal fan club, but now she and Adam were a couple, he’d joked that only Jess would have him.
It wasn’t true. It was so not true. Adam had plenty of offers from both sexes, locals and tourists. No wonder. At six feet four, he stood out from the crowd in every way. His collar-length curly hair refused all attempts to be tamed into submission so he left it to the mercy of the elements. He was a year older than Jess and his lifestyle kept him in great shape. When he wasn’t lugging parcels around as postman or volunteering with the island’s part-time fire service, he was playing sport; rugby in the winter and rowing over the summer. Appearances could definitely be deceptive, thought Jess, sliding a glance at Gabriella again. Take Adam. No one wanted to face him in a scrum, but he was a big softy underneath.
‘I’ll pop round and give you a hand with the gate after fire training on Tuesday!’ Adam called after the Barton sisters. ‘Don’t miss your flights and have a good time on the mainland.’
‘Thanks, Adam!’
With a wave to Jess and curious glances at Gabriella, the Bartons scuttled off into the terminal, clutching identical tapestry bags. They’d doubtless be speculating about who the new arrival was all the way to Cornwall and back, thought Jess, but her attention was all for Adam. His tawny eyes lit up when he spotted her and her stomach did a little flip when he walked over and kissed her on the cheek.
He smiled at Gabriella. ‘You found her among the crowds trying to escape then?’ he said to Jess.
‘Of course. Gabriella Carter, meet Adam Pengelly.’
Adam held out a large hand. ‘Welcome to Scilly. There’s no getting away from us now.’
Jess laughed. ‘Not without digging a tunnel to Land’s End.’
‘Or Canada if you want to head in the other direction,’ said Adam as Gabriella took his hand gingerly.
‘But I’m sure you won’t want to do that,’ Jess added hastily, not entirely sure it was true, judging by the doubt in her new recruit’s eyes. She had a feeling that if you’d given Gabriella a spade she’d have started digging right there, but then again, if she couldn’t get used to a bit of banter and teasing, she wouldn’t last five minutes in the close-knit farm team.
Gabriella peered up into Adam’s face. He was at least a foot taller than her and built like the semi-professional rugby player he used to be before he’d moved to Scilly from his native Cumbria. Jess bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the apprehension in Gabriella’s eyes. That imposing physique and height must have been quite intimidating to strangers.
‘Off we go then. Can I help with your bags, Gabriella?’ Adam offered.
‘Thanks … and please, just “Gaby” is absolutely fine. Only my granny ever calls me Gabriella. It’s such a mouthful, isn’t it?’ She smiled again, which lit up her expressive eyes, but there was a touch of steel in her voice that took Jess by surprise. Maybe she might last a month rather than a week.
‘Gaby, it is then,’ said Adam. ‘Your carriage awaits.’
Gaby stared at the golf buggy as if it were a toy car. Maybe she’d been expecting a Rolls-Royce.
Adam grinned. ‘It’s safe … Ish.’
Jess batted Adam on the arm and he mimed an ‘ow’.
‘Ignore him. It’s totally safe. We don’t keep a van on the main island because we’ve no use for it and we use a local firm to collect the flowers from the quay to bring them to the airport. We borrow this buggy off a friend to get around St Mary’s when we need to. You’ll see lots of them about. Lots of tourists use them if they can’t or don’t want to do too much walking.’
‘Jump in,’ said Adam. He picked up Gaby’s case as if it were a handbag and slotted it next to her in the rear of the buggy.
Jess climbed into the front next to him.
‘Hold on tight. The roads are busy,’ said Adam as they drove the buggy down the hill towards the quay. There were about two cars in sight.
‘Will it take long to get to the harbour?’ Gaby asked.
‘Five minutes tops, unless there’s a traffic jam at the quay,’ Adam replied.
‘He’s joking, but it could be busy as the Islander ferry has just docked,’ said Jess. ‘How are the Bartons?’ she asked Adam as he steered the buggy around a large pothole.
‘The ladies are fine, but their guesthouse is in a bit of a state. I just offered to lend them a hand repairing the garden gate. The sheep keep getting into the allotment patch and scoffing the produce. I can fit it in after fire training on Tuesday.’
This was typical of Adam. He’d help anyone and put himself out in the process. He had no ego and although he was sociable with his mates and customers, he was also shy around women. Jess liked him all the more for that even if it meant that it had been over a year after they’d first met before they’d finally got together on a ‘date’.
Adam had asked her to go with him to a folk night at the Gannet pub on St Saviour’s at the start of the summer and, since then, Jess didn’t think she’d ever been happier. She helped to run a thriving business and lived in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Of course, she didn’t need a man to make her life complete, but meeting Adam had unveiled a new layer of joy. It wasn’t easy meeting people in a small, isolated community, and finding someone who she’d clicked with so perfectly was wonderful.
‘This is the Oxford Street of Scilly,’ Jess joked to Gaby when the buggy entered the top of Hugh Street, which was lined with shops, cafés, pubs and the isles’ only supermarket.
Gaby checked out the granite cottages and quaint shopfronts. ‘Oh. I see. Is this where I’ll find all the bars and clubs or are they on St Saviour’s?’
Jess exchanged a quick glance with Adam. He was stunned into silence. Jess cleared her throat, wondering how to reply. She turned around, trying to sound calm and positive, while thinking it might be kinder to turn the buggy back now and put Gaby straight on a plane home.
‘Um. There are a couple of pubs here and it can get quite lively during the gig rowing championships or if we have stag parties from Penzance over for the weekend. As for St Saviour’s, that has a pub and a smart hotel and we sometimes have nights out on the other islands, but there aren’t any actual clubs.’
‘Oh. I see …’ Gaby pulled a face. Then suddenly she let out a giggle. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. That was naughty of me. I’m joking. I came here for a quiet life.’
Relief flooded through Jess, combined with surprise at being taken in. Yes, there was definitely a steely side to Gaby Carter.
‘Oh, you’ll get that … after work, anyway. We’ll keep you occupied during the day.’ Very occupied, thought Jess. Late summer through to Christmas and beyond to Easter was by far the busiest time of the year at the flower farm. While frosts and festive mayhem took hold on the mainland, the farm’s packing shed would be also manic as they picked, sorted and sent millions of narcissi to bring golden light into the dark nights of people throughout the rest of Britain.
The buggy rattled over the cobbles onto the quayside, which was packed with tourists piling onto the ‘tripper’ boats that were moored two and three abreast. As usual, there was organised chaos as visitors clambered down the steps, asking if they’d got the right boat and climbing over vessels to get to the one they needed.
At the end of the stone quay, more passengers collected luggage and kayaks from the Islander ferry that made its daily round trip from Penzance between March and November. It dwarfed the open tripper boats, jet boats and yachts bobbing about in the harbour on the high tide.
‘We’re down here,’ said Jess, heading for the steps that led to the pontoons where the Godrevys’ motorboat, Kerensa, was moored alongside the floating rafts.
‘I’ll park the buggy while you get aboard. I’ll bring the bags,’ said Adam.
Jess took Gaby down the steps and along the pontoon. Gaby didn’t seem very happy with the wobbly surface.
‘You’ll soon get used to all of this,’ Jess said reassuringly. ‘We live and breathe boats here.’
Gaby nodded, but she didn’t seem too sure at all. ‘Kerensa. That’s a lovely name.’
‘It’s Cornish for love,’ said Jess, jumping deftly onto the boat.
She held out a hand to help Gaby, who climbed aboard more gingerly.
Adam was soon back, handing over Gaby’s case and some shopping from the Co-op. He untied the boat and Jess manoeuvred it away from the pontoon and between the smaller craft.
As they skirted the hull of the Islander, Gaby stared up at its crew who were unloading freight and getting it ready for its return journey to Penzance. Even as they passed it, she gazed at the ferry as if she was saying goodbye to an old friend.
‘Does the ferry come every day?’ she asked.
‘Every day throughout the summer except Sundays,’ said Jess. ‘But when winter comes, we only get the supply boat a few times a week.’
‘If we’re lucky,’ said Adam cheerfully.
Gaby gave a weak smile. ‘Oh.’
The little boat puttered out of the harbour and into the lagoon that separated St Saviour’s and the other isles from St Mary’s. Jess had been brought up around boats since before she could walk but she still had to concentrate on keeping Kerensa within the channel markers. The water was so shallow between the isles, there were even rare occasions when you could wade between St Mary’s and St Saviour’s, though Gaby was unlikely to be on Scilly long enough to witness one of those. She sat in the stern, her strawberry blonde ponytail streaming behind her in the breeze and her dark glasses hiding her eyes. Jess noted the way she gripped the edge of the seat with one hand, and kept the other firmly on the rail of the boat.
Jess had a sneaking admiration for her or anyone who was willing to give up a comfortable life in a lively city like Cambridge for a remote place like Scilly. But she wasn’t convinced that a desire for ‘a quiet life’ and a love of flowers was the whole reason for Gaby’s decision to abandon Cambridge and head all the way out here.
Twenty minutes later, Adam threw the rope around the bollard on the small quay at St Saviour’s and secured it to the cleat. Jess helped Gaby off the boat and up the steps with her bag. The quay rose out of a small rocky outcrop at the bottom of the island road. Deeper water lapped one side, while the other looked out over creamy sand, currently covered in a foot or so of translucent peppermint sea.
Gaby looked around her and shook her head in wonder. ‘Wow. It’s so beautiful. I’ve seen pictures on your website of course, but I hadn’t imagined the real thing would be anything like this. It’s still England, but as if England were set in the Greek islands.’
Jess followed Gaby’s gaze towards the long sweep of white sand that ran half the length of the island and the myriad rocky skerries dozing in the lagoon between the main isles. St Saviour’s, like Gull Island and its neighbour Petroc, were all clustered around the shallow ‘pool’ with only lonely St Piran’s lying to the west across a deep-water channel.
‘It is lovely on a day like this,’ she said, quietly proud of her home.
‘Not so lovely when you’re trying to get the mail delivered in a howling gale or when the fog drops down,’ said Adam.
Gaby turned to him in surprise. ‘Oh, you’re a postman, then?’
‘Yes. I deliver the smaller islands’ mail.’
‘You must have the best post round in Britain.’
He grinned. ‘You can say that again.’
Jess squeezed his hand behind Gaby’s back. ‘Better get going. Will’s going to be … um … eager to welcome you too.’ She mentally crossed her fingers that her brother was in. ‘We can walk to the farm from here.’
Despite Gaby’s protests, Adam carried her case and the shopping. Jess had given up trying to stop him long ago. She took the chance to chat to Gaby as they trudged up the slope from the quay and onto the road that ran along the spine of the island.
With Adam a few feet ahead, Jess slowed her pace to allow Gaby to take in her surroundings. She stared out over the Atlantic and spoke softly, almost reverently.
‘I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely seas and the sky
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’
Jess waited, a little taken aback.
Gaby turned towards her with a smile. ‘Sorry, couldn’t resist. That’s from Sea Fever by John Masefield. Do you know it?’
‘I think I might have heard of it but I’m not that great on poetry to be honest,’ Jess replied, quietly amused and also, if she was honest, thinking the lines were very apt for the way she often felt about the spectacular spot she lived in: drawn to the sea.
‘The view is incredible,’ said Gaby, echoing Jess’s own thoughts.
‘Yes, you practically see most of Scilly from up here and Land’s End too on a clear day. Look, there it is.’ Jess pointed out a shadowy but unmistakable hunk of land on the horizon to the east.
‘Wow,’ said Gaby. ‘Exactly how far is it?’
‘Twenty-eight miles, though it may as well be Canada on some days. The fog can roll in and you can’t see the sea at all, let alone the mainland,’ said Adam, waiting for them.
‘Wow. That must feel like being cast adrift in the middle of the ocean.’
Jess felt a quiet sense of pride in Gaby’s awe. ‘It can be but on days like this, it’s gorgeous. And actually, we’re here.’

Chapter 2 (#u7b3d71fc-d3ee-55af-84a4-cfce7db8c2d4)
‘Wow.’
Jess hid a smile as Gaby gazed at the five-bar gate set in a high hedgerow. A wooden sign was fixed on the front of the bars.
St Saviour’s Flower Farm
A, J & W Godrevy
The sign had been replaced once already since Jess’s father, Roger, had left the family home to live with a younger woman, fifteen years previously. Their mother, Anna, had insisted on having his initials erased and a fresh plaque put up showing her children as joint owners. However, the ‘new’ one needed repainting again, as the names were fading under the onslaught of wind, rain and salt. Olive lichen had started to crawl slowly over the ragged edges of the wood, but it was so familiar that Jess didn’t even see it these days. It was only because Gaby paused to examine it that Jess noticed it at all. One more job to add to the maintenance list, though being non-urgent, it probably wouldn’t get done at all until it dropped off.
‘Come on,’ said Jess, smiling inwardly at the impact her home and business was having on Gaby.
She pushed open the gate, letting Gaby go ahead of her. Adam closed it behind them and followed them both in while Gaby scanned the house, outbuildings and fields with sharp-eyed wonder.
The rambling farmhouse where Jess and Will lived with Anna was set back from the road behind a large concrete yard. Jess and Will had no choice but to take over the running of the place while they were still barely out of their teens. Their father had left the farm’s finances in a perilous state, but gradually Jess and Will had pulled it back from the brink and developed it into the thriving business that Gaby was now taking in.
‘The high hedges are there to protect the flowers, aren’t they?’ she asked Jess.
‘Yes, they spare the crops from the worst of the winds we get in the winter. The office is over here. You never know, Will might even be in there.’
‘While you introduce Gaby to Will, do you mind if I check out the Athene?’ said Adam. ‘I want to see how the renovation’s coming along. I reckon it’ll be ready for some trials after Christmas if we all pull our fingers out.’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘That’s optimistic. It still needs a lot of work.’
He smiled. ‘We’ll get there. I won’t be long.’
‘OK,’ said Jess, amused at his enthusiasm for a half-built boat.
After Adam had left, she led the way to the office, chatting to Gaby along the way. ‘The Athene’s a vintage rowing boat – though we actually call them gigs. Will and Adam are hoping to restore it to its full glory,’ she explained.
‘Sounds exciting. Do you row?’
‘I’ve no choice,’ Jess laughed. ‘Most of us do. I’m in the St Saviour’s Women’s crew, but we don’t take it as seriously as some. What about you?’ She eyed the diminutive figure of Gaby.
‘No way. I did try out for cox once and crashed the Third Eight into the bank. Did a lot of damage. They haven’t asked me back again.’ She grinned. ‘Worked a treat.’
Jess laughed.
As she guided Gaby towards the office, Jess’s thoughts were on her new employee but also partly on the sign at the gate. Even fifteen years on, Jess had mixed feelings about their father: she still loved him, as did Will, even though they hadn’t seen him for several years and their brief phone conversations with him were usually tense.
She and Will were twins, and having grown up so closely, they had a strong bond even if they didn’t always see eye to eye about the farm. Jess was the steady hand on the tiller: calm, practical and ready to pour oil on troubled waters. She oversaw the business side of things, dealing with suppliers and the bigger customer accounts that required tact and diplomacy.
Will worked every bit as hard as her but his forte lay with the horticultural side of the business. He knew everything about coaxing the different varieties into bloom at exactly the right moment. Storms, fog and even the occasional frost didn’t faze him, but he could be impatient and prone to gloomy moods.
One thing they both agreed on, and would have sealed in blood, was their loyalty to their mother and the farm. They’d sided firmly with Anna as the innocent party, but that hadn’t stopped them missing their dad in private. They’d felt hurt at being abandoned and angry at having to set aside any of their other hopes and dreams to stay and run the farm. Jess had settled down more quickly to her life as boss, but Will had wanted to go to university and for a long time resented being thrown in at the deep end.
However, this was all now in the past and everyone had moved on: they’d had no choice or the farm would have gone under faster than the Titanic.
One sign of the twins’ success after fifteen years of hard work was that the business had long outgrown the original small office attached to the farmhouse. Jess opened the door of the new admin block, a large timber-clad building off the centre of the yard. The room was filled with workstations, each with phones and computer screens. The silence hit Jess as she showed Gaby inside.
‘This is our admin area and sales office,’ she said to Gaby. ‘It seems funny to see it empty like this. Normally it’s mayhem in here.’
Gaby walked into the middle of the room and took in the blank screens.
‘We process the bulk orders from supermarkets and the wholesale market here and take orders from individual customers,’ Jess explained. ‘I keep an eye on the admin and sales, though Lawrence, our general manager, is in charge of operations. Will’s more likely to be found out in the fields or the packing shed. Or the gig sheds,’ she added after a pause. ‘He’s also a stalwart of the St Saviour’s rowing club, but he won’t be there today. He’ll be around here somewhere. He knows you were coming and he’s looking forward to meeting you,’ she added, hoping that Will would turn out to be more enthusiastic about their new recruit than she feared.
Jess moved on from the office to the packing sheds, which would also normally have been buzzing with workers.
‘This is where we grade and arrange the flowers into bunches or ship them out in bulk to wholesalers. You’ll be alternating between here and the fields, depending on demand. We all muck in together wherever we’re needed.’
Gaby’s gaze swept the building, which was open to the rafters. Jess saw her eyes flick from the carpet-topped arranging tables to the floor, where rejected narcissi lay scattered on the concrete. Jess knew that if it wasn’t a bank holiday, the place would have Radio Scilly blaring out and be full of people hurrying into the chiller with huge plastic boxes of flowers from the fields or to the quay, or carrying cardboard boxes and tissue paper to and from the arranging tables. It was eerily quiet – and there was still no sign of her brother.
‘Will’s probably outside,’ she said with a tight smile that hid her growing disquiet over Will’s absence. They walked back out into the sunlight. Jess wondered whether to try his phone, not that he’d always answer. ‘Let’s try the bottom field. This way, across the yard.’
The goats spared them a fleeting glance as she and Gaby walked past their pen, before going back to their dinner. Jess also pointed out the beef cattle who were grazing on the heathland next to the farm. She saw Gaby taking in the small rectangular fields where the flowers were grown. Each one was protected from the wind by thick hedges and the green shoots of the first narcissi were just showing, even though it wasn’t quite September.
‘How long have the Godrevys been farming here?’ Gaby asked as Jess pulled her phone from her pocket.
Adam had sent her a text: ‘Any sign of the Man yet? Any chance of getting away If You Know What I Mean? Got a surprise for you …’
Jess felt her cheeks heat up and pushed her phone back into her jeans.
‘Three generations now,’ she replied, trying to refocus and not think too much about the shivery feeling that Adam’s text had given her. ‘Apparently when my grandparents started the farm in the 1950s, there were ninety flower farms on St Mary’s alone. Now that people buy so many imported flowers from abroad, there are only a handful.’
‘St Saviour’s survived though,’ said Gaby. ‘And this set-up is very impressive.’
‘Thanks. We try to have as many varieties and markets as we can. We also sometimes work with other farms at busy periods. They supply us with flowers to supplement what we can’t grow, or sell ours when we have a glut. It’s a fine art, trying not to have too few or too many flowers – that’s the tricky part. Too much warmth or too much cold can spell disaster or not being able to get the flowers to market. It’s taken years to get the balance right and we’re still experimenting and keeping our fingers crossed.’
Jess looked around her at the green shoots starting to appear in the brown earth of the outdoor fields, ready for the new season’s harvest. Hard to believe that the first tight buds of the earliest types would be ready to pick in a few weeks’ time. These days, sixteen types of narcissi were produced through autumn and winter, far more than in her father’s time. It had been Jess’s idea to expand their range shortly after he’d left.
Gaby crouched low to touch one of the emerging shoots. She had a dreamy look on her face. ‘Do you think the legend is true?’ she asked.
‘Which legend would that be? Scilly has quite a few,’ said Jess, amused.
‘The one about how the narcissi first came to Scilly on a Dutch ship.’
‘Ah. The onion story.’ Jess had heard the tale many times. Supposedly, the first bulbs were given to the Governor of Scilly’s wife by the captain of a Dutch merchant ship. She mistook them for onions but threw them out of the window of her castle because they tasted so horrible. The bulbs bloomed in the moat and that’s how the islands’ flower industry began. ‘It’s a great story and there may be some truth in it, but we’re not so concerned with the past,’ said Jess wryly. ‘It’s the present and the future we want to secure, which is why you’ll find plenty to keep you occupied,’ she added with a smile.
Gaby nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh. Absolutely. I came here to help you do just that.’
‘Glad to hear it. I’m sure my brother will be too. Hold on. There’s Len,’ said Jess, spotting a middle-aged man striding over the yard through the open door. ‘He might have seen Will. Do you want to wait here?’
Leaving Gaby looking at the farm set-up, Jess caught up with Len as he headed into the packing sheds.
‘Hi Len. Have you seen Will? I want him to meet Gaby, our new worker.’
Len Scarrock’s forehead, already as lined as a contour map of the Himalayas, wrinkled even further. ‘That kid over there?’
‘She’s not a kid. She’s twenty-seven and she’s had plenty of experience.’
Len snorted. ‘As what? A pixie in fairyland?’
Jess clung onto her patience. Len had worked as field supervisor with the Godrevys for years and what he didn’t know about flower farming on the isles wasn’t worth knowing. But he was as spiky as a whole field of thistles. ‘Have you seen Will?’ she repeated.
He sucked on his teeth and shrugged. ‘Might be in the fields. It’s been a good hour since I saw him.’
Jess’s heart sank; she was beginning to think Will really had forgotten Gaby was coming and gone to visit his rowing mates. ‘OK. Thanks.’
Just then, Adam walked across the yard and joined Jess on the edge of the top field. ‘The gig’s coming along. Where’s Will?’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘This is turning into a game. I should produce a book: Where’s Will?’
‘Hold on, that sounds like him,’ said Adam, pointing towards a figure marching from the rear of the equipment storage shed. A familiar voice carried on the air to them.
‘No, bloody hell. Next week? That’s all I need. You have to come sooner than that?’
Adam grinned. ‘I think we’ve found him.’
Will’s voice grew louder, clearly giving some unfortunate supplier the hairdryer treatment down the phone. He’d stopped outside the door of an outbuilding used by the flower picking staff for breaks. ‘I can’t wait for an engineer until then. It’ll be disastrous for my crop. You have to come out. Charter a plane if you have to …’
‘Yes, but where’s Gaby got to?’ Jess crossed back into the yard but Gaby had vanished. ‘Oh God, I hope she hasn’t decided to go home already.’
Adam joined her. ‘She won’t. She’s tougher than she looks. Look, there she is.’
Gaby emerged from behind a hedge just as Will strode across the yard, his phone clamped to one ear, the other hand gesticulating wildly.
‘Len!’ he bellowed, holding the phone down by his side. ‘We need to get that damn pump fixed. That’s the whole water supply to the farm!’
‘The bloody water pump? When did that happen?’ said Len.
‘About half an hour ago. Haven’t you noticed?’
‘I’ve only just come up here from my place. Have you tried fixing it?’
Will threw up his hands. ‘What do you think I’ve been doing for the past half an hour? Bloody hell, why does this always happen on a sodding bank holiday?’
Ouch. Jess cringed.
And oh no … At the same time as ranting to the supplier and Len, Gaby had clearly come onto Will’s radar. He suddenly veered from being on course for Len to making a beeline for her. Jess quickened her pace to try and intercept them.
‘Hey! You!’ Will bellowed.
Gaby stopped, frozen like a hedgehog about to be run over by a juggernaut. Will shoved the phone in his jeans pocket and homed in on Gaby.
‘Oh no. I’d better make the introductions or she really will leg it.’ Leaving Adam behind, Jess jogged over but it was too late. Her twin was giving Gaby the full benefit of his customer-facing charm and skills.
She reached him to find him talking to Gaby, with his hands on his hips. ‘Can I help you? Are you a customer?’ he asked impatiently. ‘If you are, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be wandering around like this.’
‘I was just admiring your Innisidgens,’ said Gaby.
‘My what?’
‘The Innisidgens. They’re just coming into bud, aren’t they?’
‘Yeah, they are but …’ Will peered at her. ‘Look, this is a staff-only area and you should call in at the office if you want to buy some flowers.’
Jess darted between them. ‘Will. This is Dr Gabriella Carter. She’s one of our new field workers.’
Will stared at Gaby and his jaw dropped, anyone would think the queen of the fairies had landed on his farm and zapped him with her wand.
‘She’s a field worker?’
‘Yes, Gaby is a field worker. I told you she was coming. I’ve just been to pick her up from the airport. You can’t have forgotten,’ she added as if Will was a toddler to whom she had to explain everything, which was partly true. She turned to Gaby. ‘I’m sorry, I think you took Will by surprise, didn’t she, Will?’
‘You could say that.’ Will glared at Gaby.
She smiled back sweetly. ‘I’m sorry for wandering off, but I was fascinated by the Innisidgens. They’re the very first variety to come out, aren’t they? I know some people loathe the scent and say it’s like cat’s pee, but to me, they always give me that “back to school” feeling. So lovely to think of them popping up while people are still basking on the beaches.’
Will shoved his fingers through messy brown hair, lightened at the tips by a summer spent outdoors. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement and he peered at Gaby again. ‘Actually, I don’t mind the scent … Mum hates it, but I’ve always thought the Innisidgens mark the start of the season too. A fresh start and all that stuff.’
‘Oh, absolutely and my apologies, Mr Godrevy, I hadn’t meant to cross any boundaries.’ Gaby extended her slender fingers. ‘I look forward to working with you.’
Will stared at her dainty hand in surprise.
He must think she’s waiting for him to kiss it, thought Jess with a mix of delight and dismay.
‘Um, hi,’ he said before turning to Jess and snapping out of his temporary trance. ‘All hell’s broken loose. The water pump’s packed in and you know what that means. We’ve no water for irrigation for the farmhouse or the staff house …’ He glanced back at Gaby. ‘So, you have my apologies if I haven’t put up the bunting and made some iced buns today, Miss Carter, I’ve been a tad busy.’
‘Oh, no apology needed. Bunting and buns won’t be necessary, however appealing they sound. A nice cup of Earl Grey and a slice of sponge cake would be a perfectly acceptable alternative. Gluten-free of course.’
Will’s jaw dropped again and he stared at Gaby.
Adam had joined them. He’d obviously heard most of the recent exchanges, judging by the gleeful squeeze Jess felt on her hand. She distinctly felt his body shake as he tried not to laugh. Jess stifled a snigger too.
‘Would you like me to make some cucumber sandwiches as well?’ Will said smoothly.
Gaby licked her lips. ‘Yum. That sounds delicious. Where’s the staff tea room?’
Will couldn’t take his eyes off Gaby. She smiled innocently back, but Jess could tell Gaby was teasing and could actually feel the crackle of tension between the two of them. It was like pitting a bear and a viper against each other. How would they ever survive the next six months together?
Jess let out a strained laugh. ‘Gaby is joking. She knows we all muck in here.’
‘Of course I do. So, shall we start again?’ She held out her hand once more and this time, to Jess’s amazement, Will took it, shaking it firmly but carefully with his grimy paw.
‘Welcome to the flower farm, Gaby,’ he said, still unable to tear his eyes from her face.
‘Thank you, Mr Godrevy. You seem to have a very professional operation here.’
‘Thanks. And er … please call me Will. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’
‘Thank you, Will. I look forward to working with you and possibly tasting your buns.’
Will opened his mouth but seemed to choke on his reply.
‘Have you tried the trip switch on the pump?’ Jess cut in, trying to divert Will. ‘That was the problem last time.’
His attention snapped back to Jess. ‘Of course I’ve tried the trip switch, but you can have a look if you like. Anything’s better than leaving the farm without water until the technician can come out.’
‘Where is the pump?’ Gaby asked.
‘In the shed over there above the well.’ Will flipped a thumb in the direction of the other side of the yard. ‘It supplies all the water for the farm and business.’
‘You’re getting a tour of the farm anyway, so you may as well see everything now, not that you’ll ever need to go in the pump house,’ said Jess. She could feel Adam beside her, saying nothing but obviously enjoying every word of the exchange. He’d be bound to take the piss out of Will about ‘his buns’ as soon as he got the chance but Jess was only concerned with keeping the peace.
With Will forging ahead, Adam, Jess and Gaby followed him over to a small wooden shed on the far side of the yard. The goats stopped chewing long enough to watch them trudge past, as if to wonder what the fuss was all about.
The door was open and Jess joined Will, who was staring at the control panel above the blue pump, while Adam and Gaby waited outside the cramped shed. Jess flicked the trip switch up and down, and the pump stopped, then shuddered and rattled in an alarming way.
‘I do hope you don’t think I’m interfering, but could it possibly be an airlock in the pipework?’
They all turned at the small voice from behind them. Gaby gazed at them both with innocent eyes.
‘We used to have a similar problem at the nursery where I worked out in the Fens. It’s a long shot, but you never know.’
Will scratched his head and pushed out his bottom lip. ‘It’s making a lot of noise, but there’s no actual water coming through.’
‘As Gaby said, it could be an airlock,’ said Jess.
‘It’s never had one before,’ Will muttered.
‘But it could be,’ said Jess.
Gaby stepped forward and opened the hinged wooden cover concealing the blue pipework. ‘It looks very similar to the pump we had at the nursery. Is it worth letting the air out of this vent on the back of the pipework?’
Jess stood by as Will peered at the pipework. ‘Yeah. S’pose it could be that. Like I say, we’ve never had an issue with it before …’
He turned the vent and after a few rattles and clangs, the pump tone speeded up to its normal smooth hum.
‘Certainly sounds healthier,’ said Jess.
Gaby pointed to the control panel. ‘The current’s running through it again. I think that’s a good sign.’
Len poked his head round the door. ‘Hey! The water’s on again. I don’t know what you did, but it’s worked.’
Len vanished as fast as he’d appeared and Will closed the cover on the pipework.
‘Thanks,’ he muttered.
‘A pleasure. Now if you’ll show me to my accommodation, I can settle in and leave you to get on with your work.’ She threw a smile at Will. ‘I can see you’re obviously terribly busy …’
*
Half an hour later, Jess had completed the tour of the farm and showed Gaby into the staff accommodation. The farm was very fortunate to have a staff house, the glorified name for the converted farm building used by the seasonal workers. The house was divided into individual bedrooms served by communal bathroom and kitchen facilities. While most of the workers were local, some came from mainland Cornwall to work the winter narcissi season, and a handful hailed from Europe.
Jess had introduced Gaby to Anna, who had looked her up and down as if she was a pest that had landed on the narcissi, before grudgingly shaking hands and saying, ‘Welcome to St Saviour’s.’
Jess and Will loved their mother, but even they had to admit that she wasn’t the easiest woman to live with. When their dad had finally left after all attempts to patch up their marriage had failed, she’d been landed with the responsibility of an ailing business and two young adults who’d had to step up and help her run it at an age when they might have been going out with friends or travelling further afield before settling down. The farm had been a poisoned chalice to start with. The shock of her husband’s affair combined with the long hours and financial worries had aged her not only physically but given her a hard shell that could look like callousness to strangers.
Jess knew that Gaby should get a warmer reception from the rest of the team. Even crusty old Len had a sense of humour sometimes and the rest of the field, packing and office workers were a friendly bunch who worked hard and played harder.
She took Gaby through to the rear of the staff house where a handful of workers were sitting in a small garden area, enjoying a beer and sunbathing. Normally at this time of year there were around a dozen field and packing shed staff around, while a separate small team worked in the office who Gaby would get to meet soon enough. The sunbathers greeted Gaby with smiles and set about the banter straight away, telling her horror stories about the weather and Len cracking the whip.
Jess watched Gaby carefully, but was pretty sure she was taking everything with a large pinch of salt. Anyway, judging by the way she’d handled Will, she could give at least as good as she got.
Jess heaved a sigh of relief as she walked past the pump house and heard it chugging away. They had running water, a new staff member, and she could finally enjoy the rest of the day with Adam and find out in detail the surprise he had in store for her. She had a feeling it was going to be a memorable one.

Chapter 3 (#u7b3d71fc-d3ee-55af-84a4-cfce7db8c2d4)
With a sigh, Gaby dumped her bag on the floor of her new quarters. OK … so it wasn’t the Ritz. Not even the BudgetLodge, actually. After eight years of student life, she didn’t expect comfort, let alone luxury, but the staff house still came as something of a shock.
Her bedroom was spotlessly clean but tiny compared to the relatively spacious rooms she’d had in her college at university. It had a single bed, a chair, the kind of cupboard her granny liked to call a ‘tallboy’ and a curtained-off alcove that Gaby assumed was the wardrobe. Not that she’d brought much to hang in it. A small table with spindly legs, one of which was propped up with a pile of beer mats, served as a desk, complete with a candlestick lamp with the kind of tasselled shade that even her granny would have rejected as old-fashioned these days. Still, she knew she was incredibly lucky to have a place to stay at all. Jess had explained that staff houses were as rare as hen’s teeth and not everyone who worked at the farm got to live there. Some of the temporary workers had to rent out-of-season holiday lets or get rooms in guesthouses, while the younger permanent staff still lived with their families.
Like most people her age, she couldn’t envisage ever being able to afford a place of her own and definitely not on a poetry expert and flower picker’s wage. But she wasn’t here for the money: she was here to enjoy the view, smell the sea and the scents – and have some solitude.
Not that there would be much of that. The sound of people arguing about a football match was clear and the thick partition walls shook when a door slammed. Jess had shown her the shared shower rooms and the communal staffroom/kitchen area with a large TV where most people congregated after work.
The communal room had been furnished with cast-offs too, probably from the Godrevy farmhouse. The stuffing was escaping from a mismatched sofa. The dining table was surrounded by an eclectic mix of chairs ranging from an oak carver to a deckchair. It was a far cry from the MCR at her college, but actually, Gaby thought with a smile, it wasn’t that different to home: her parents’ place, a ramshackle thatched cottage in a village on the unfashionable side of the city. Hardly anything got thrown out there either.
She unpacked the one small case that she’d been allowed to take on the tiny plane here. If she wanted any more of her stuff, it would have to be shipped over on the ferry. For now, her clothes took all of five minutes to put away and she’d miraculously managed to compress a whole cupboard’s worth of make-up and toiletries into one bag. Judging by the state of Len’s fingernails, she thought the varnish was going to be superfluous, but even if there were no clubs, there had to be some opportunity for glamming up, even if it was only to watch an episode of Countryfile.
At the bottom of the case, wrapped inside a jumper, she found her two most precious treasures. She set one on the table: it was a photo of her with her parents, her older sister Carly and Steven – Stevie – her younger brother. The three siblings had all squeezed onto an old garden swing behind the cottage, with their parents piled in behind. A friend of Gaby’s had taken the photo on Stevie’s twenty-first birthday not long after he’d taken delivery of his motorbike. He’d always been a daredevil, spending all his spare time climbing, or mountain biking, surfing and trying out extreme sports. He was working as a courier while he saved enough to travel the world, and unlike Gaby had no desire to go to uni or to join the rat race like Carly. He lived for the moment …
Since his death, every photo with the bike in had been deleted or destroyed, but the memory of his special birthday would be treasured forever. Besides, everyone had been smiling in the photo, no one had their eyes closed or ‘looked fat’, so it had been deemed a suitable memento of the occasion, printed off multiple times and framed before being given as gifts to numerous members of the Carter clan.
Shortly after that photo took place, Stevie had taken a corner too fast, been thrown off the bike and struck an oak tree at the entrance to the village. He’d survived, technically, but the brain damage had been so extensive that he hadn’t been able to breathe on his own. Even worse, all the tests had shown no brain activity at all and they had been told there was no prospect of recovery. A month after the accident, the Carters had made the most heartbreaking decision any family could ever face and in March, Stevie was taken off life support.
Gaby stared at the photo. That dreadful moment had been almost half a year ago now. How could that be? How fast time flew, even though recently, some days had felt as if she was walking uphill in the darkness against a wind so strong and merciless she thought she might be blown off her feet and never get up again.
The late afternoon sun streamed through her window. Gaby pushed it open and let the cool breeze air the room. Could she smell the sea on it? Possibly not but she could imagine it. She’d made it here and Stevie would be proud of her. He’d be cheering now, just as he would have at her PhD graduation in June.
Gaby had managed to fund her doctorate with the help of several jobs, and scrimping and saving, plus being fed by her parents from time to time. She’d completed her thesis even during the darkest hours. She’d written up the last few pages, sitting by Stevie’s hospital bed.
Shortly after he’d died a minor miracle had happened – her college had offered her a junior fellowship that enabled her to teach the undergraduates and would have covered some of her accommodation and living expenses. The opportunity was as rare as rocking horse poo, and there were very few jobs that required a PhD in poetry, but it wasn’t the miracle Gaby had really wished for. She wasn’t going to get her brother back. And so, with him in mind, she had turned down the offer to pursue a job that combined the two passions in her life – poetry and flowers – and decided she would work on a flower farm.
She’d been in academia – at school, at university – for almost all of her twenty-seven years. She couldn’t see herself in another twenty-seven, a crusty academic, rarely having been outside Cambridge. She’d thought long and hard about her future as she sat by her brother’s side. He’d never be able to pursue all the things he wanted to do: travel the world, work abroad, enjoy life to the full but she could.
When she’d told Carly her plans to work at the farm she’d gasped in exasperation. ‘But a flowerfarm? On the Scillies? You may as well lock yourself away in Cambridge!’
‘It’s Scilly or the Isles of Scilly. Never the Scillies,’ Gaby had corrected, trying not to rise to the bait. Carly genuinely meant well, but for her, achieving a dream meant getting a flat in a smart postcode with a car and salary to match.
‘I don’t care if it’s Timbuc-bloody-tu. You’re out of your mind.’
‘I rather fancy it. I love flowers.’
‘OK. I can just about get that, but why there? Can’t you go somewhere … oh I don’t know. Exciting? Exotic? Like the Caribbean. They have lots of flowers there.’
Gaby had suppressed a sigh. ‘But I love narcissi and Tresco Abbey Gardens is on Scilly – that’s one of the most famous gardens in the world.’
‘Really? Oh Gaby, I despair.’
That made two of them, thought Gaby, knowing her sister would never understand her obsession with flowers and poetry. She didn’t even bother explaining why she’d chosen Scilly specifically because Carly would have been incredulous and disapproving to hear that Gaby had fed her addiction to gardening and countryside programmes during the long hours at the hospital. The TV had been on in Stevie’s room for some company and normality mainly, and she’d sat through endless episodes of Gardener’s World, Countryfile, Countrywise and their lookalikes.
One programme had stuck in her mind. Ironically it had been at her lowest ebb, after a moment when she’d thought she’d seen Stevie show the flicker of an eyelid, the twitch of a finger. She’d imagined the movement of course, but luckily, she’d never told her parents about it. The consultant had come and done thorough tests and said there was absolutely no brain reaction recorded at all, they were incredibly sorry … she must have dreamed it … maybe she might want to go home for some rest?
A few hours later, after Gaby had finished crying, she was half-dozing in her chair and woke to find the TV on. She saw a smiley presenter in a wax jacket tell the audience about the tiny islands where the Gulf Stream ensured the climate was so mild in the winter that subtropical plants thrived all year round and daffodils bloomed in September. The sea had been azure, the flowers and plants dazzlingly bright and the people cheerful and resilient. It felt so removed from the dim hospital room, even though it actually was on her doorstep in global terms. It was beautiful, soothing and peaceful and exactly what she wanted to do.
‘Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity.’ John Ruskin’s words had slid into her mind after the feature had finished.
She would go to Scilly, she resolved. She would see the flowers, visit the gardens, live, breathe and work with the narcissi when this was all over …
Looking back, Gaby realised that was the moment when she accepted that it was all over for Stevie. But not for her and that he would never want her to give up or give in. Stevie had escaped the shell of his body the day he crashed the bike. She didn’t know where he was now, but her life had to go on, for her sake, for his, for her family’s …
Unlike Carly, Stevie had understood what Gaby’s idea of ‘adventure’ was. She sat on the bed and unwrapped her other treasure: her last birthday present from him: a book called 100 Gardens to See Before YouDie. Since he’d gone, she hadn’t been able to open it and re-read his message inside; it was just too heartbreaking. Besides she had committed it to memory long ago.
To Gaby,
I dare you to visit them all!
Don’t dream your life, live your dreams – whatever they may be.
Love, Stevie xx
Visiting one hundred gardens might not count as a wild adventure to some people and Gaby doubted if she’d see more than a fraction but after she’d finished her contract at the farm she could make a start, helped by the money she’d earn as a picker. She’d already seen some of the UK gardens and made a list of her favourites – Versailles, Giverny, the Majorelle in Marrakech, Kenroku-en in Japan, the Desert Garden in Phoenix and Adelaide Botanical Gardens.
OK. Her first day hadn’t been that exotic so far judging by her encounter with the scowling Will Godrevy and his muddy wellies. However, it was only the first step on the journey and she had at least made it. She turned away from the window and back to her room. She heard swearing from the next room and a thud as the partition wall shook. The bedside table trembled on its beer mat prop. Then there was giggling and shortly afterwards the rhythmic bumping of headboard against wall, accompanied by grunts and groans like someone was trying to finish a marathon.
Hmm. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t much different from her college after all, only the walls were thinner here.
She’d call her parents shortly to let them know she was here and absolutelyfine. She might even call Carly, if she could track her down between her high-powered job in the City, and her personal training appointments, yoga and mindfulness classes.
Gaby shouldn’t be too harsh. Throwing herself even more crazily into her job had been Carly’s way of coping with Stevie’s accident and the agonising decision that the Carter family had been faced with four weeks later. Carly had decided to leave no space or time for grieving, and Gaby had decided to run away from it.
She didn’t just have her own grief to deal with. She was worried how her parents would be able to cope with the loss of a son at only twenty-one. She phoned and Skyped them regularly and intended to go home over Christmas. In the midst of their grief, the one thing they’d been adamant about was that Carly and Gaby should get on with their lives. After Stevie had passed away, her mother and father had virtually pushed them out of the door insisting that their daughters should ‘make the most of every minute’.
Had they really meant it, thought Gaby, gazing around this strange little room on a tiny island where at least two of the inhabitants – Frosty Will and Scary Len – were hardly delighted to see her. Was flying out here to work on a flower farm ‘making the most of every minute’ or just a way to hide from pain that would resurface again at any moment? She wished she could fix her grief and sorrow as easily – and miraculously – as the water pump. She was sure things wouldn’t run so smoothly in the weeks to come, from any point of view.
Gaby’s gaze lingered on the photo of Stevie again. The only personal touch in that bare little room so far from home. It lingered that bit too long and she had to squeeze her eyes hard as the tears stung the back of them.
She mustn’t get homesick or maudlin when she’d only been here ten minutes. She wasn’t a snivelling postgraduate any more: she’d chosen to come here. Stevie would be rolling his eyes and telling her to grow a pair.
‘Everything up to scratch?’
Gaby swung round at the sound of a gruff voice.
‘Mr Godrevy. Sorry – Will. Yes, I’m just trying to find room for all my stuff.’
Was that a flicker of amusement as he took in the few possessions?
‘It’s not Buckingham Palace, but we’re planning to do up the entire staff house next season, so I hope you can manage for now,’ he said, returning to saturnine mode. ‘Not that it’s any help, since you’re only here for a short while.’
‘It’s better than a lot of places I’ve stayed in. I know I’m fortunate to get somewhere to stay on site,’ she said, surprised that he felt the need to apologise for the standard of decor. ‘And besides, I approve of recycling.’
‘Good job.’ Will took a sudden interest in the rickety bedside table with its short leg. ‘Anyway, I was passing by and I wanted to say thanks for the tip about the pump and I er … thought I’d mention if there’s anything you need, let us know and we’ll do our best. The basics we can probably do, the Earl Grey and the gluten-free sponge might take a little longer.’
Oh my God, thought Gaby, was that an actual smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners? His actually rather gorgeous eyes … His dirt-streaked jeans were still tucked into the muddy indigo Hunters and it was hard not to giggle because Gaby thought she was one of the few people who could find a man in wellies sexy. He looked a few years older than her, his hair was tousled and his eyebrows could do with a bit of a trim, but she had a feeling he might scrub up pretty well. Very well – she could imagine him in black tie at a college ball … though he’d probably rather wear a clown outfit and stick a feather up his bottom, she thought and had to suppress an actual snort.
In fact, if he wasn’t such a sarcastic git with no charm or people skills, Will Godrevy would do nicely as a younger hot presenter of Countryfile or Gardening Today, two programmes she still secretly caught up with on iPlayer. Come to think of it, this place had better have decent wi-fi or she really would go mad. Dare she ask Will?
He glared at her.
OK. Perhaps not right now.
He gave a sort of humph that could have meant anything from ‘get lost’ to ‘hope you have a lovely stay’, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and gave the room a glance.
‘Jess has shown you where the bathrooms are, I take it?’
‘Yes, and the kitchen and um … common room. Very practical.’
‘That’s one way of putting it. Is that your family?’ He inclined his head towards the photo.
‘Yes.’
‘Hmm.’
And? And? What the hell did ‘hmm’ mean?
‘Long way from Cambridge, aren’t we?’ he said.
Gaby’s hackles rose. ‘Three hundred and twenty miles, actually. That’s as the crow flies.’
His brow furrowed. ‘That’s not what I meant. I meant that this place is different to what you’re used to. A big change.’
‘That’s why I’m here,’ said Gaby firmly, determined not to show a moment’s weakness.
He exchanged a glance with her, very like the one they’d shared when she’d teased him about his buns. This one lasted slightly longer but had the same effect: giving her a prickly sensation that was both pleasurable and a little bit worrying.
He glanced away first though. Re-sult.
‘Right. I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, taking a strong interest in the tassels on her bedside lamp for some reason. ‘Oh. I’ve remembered the reason I wanted to pop in in the first place. I don’t know if Jess told you. Training starts tomorrow. Seven-thirty sharp at the packing shed. Len will show you the ropes and we’ll see how you shape up.’ He smiled encouragingly as if he regretted his choice of words. ‘I’m sure you’ll be OK with the right training, is what I meant. We’ll give you plenty of support.’
‘Sounds terribly exciting. I can’t wait.’ She tried to keep the edge of sarcasm out of her voice and failed miserably.
Damn Will Godrevy, how dare he come in here being nice to her – because he was trying to be nice in his own blunt way, she was convinced. Whereas she was acting defensive because she was tired and suddenly horribly afraid she had, in fact, made a huge mistake in running away to this outpost where no one gave a monkey’s that she had a PhD in poetry and only cared if she could pick a daffodil correctly.
‘Exciting?’ He gave the kind of tiny smug smile people do when they think they know some great truth about the world that you clearly don’t and wait until you do … ‘That’s one way of describing Len’s training. I expect Jess’ll be back later to see how you’re getting on and you’ll get to know everyone in the common room tonight. Enjoy yourself. See you tomorrow.’
Enjoy yourself? Gaby picked up the photo and sighed, then pushed up the corners of her mouth with her fingers. She was here. She knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking: Grouchy Will, Scary Len, Gentle Giant Adam and even kind-hearted Jess. Despite fixing the pump, they all thought she was an airy-fairy flake and that she’d crumble within five minutes.
Gaby ran her finger over Stevie’s face. ‘And, Stevie, forgive me, but I may well do exactly that.’

Chapter 4 (#u7b3d71fc-d3ee-55af-84a4-cfce7db8c2d4)
After showing Gaby to her room, Jess was waylaid by Len to deal with a problem with the flower refrigeration room. Adam came to help her and when it was sorted they found Will in his office, tapping away furiously at the desktop computer and muttering curses.
‘I decided to reorder some cardboard boxes because we’re running low, but the order site keeps throwing me into a loop. Every time I think I’ve cracked it, I get thrown off the site and have to do it all again. I should be down at the quay now, helping to unload a new load of packing materials. And please don’t mention it’s a bank holiday.’ He lifted his hands from the keyboard and sat back in disgust.
‘Let me take a look. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help,’ said Jess, bundling him off the seat. ‘Why don’t you make a coffee or something.’
Will hovered by her shoulder. ‘I don’t see how you can do any different. I’ve tried it five times.’
‘Let Jess have a go, mate,’ said Adam. ‘We’ll grab a coffee and you can tell me about the Athene. I’ve been to look at her. Do you think she’ll be ready for us at the start of the new season next spring?’
Will seemed to perk up at mention of the Athene. ‘I hope so. We need a crew for her first. We’re two women short at the moment.’
‘There’s always Jess – she can step in if we’re desperate.’
Jess glared at Will. ‘Thanks a lot! And tough because I’m already committed to the Women’s boat. You might enjoy rowing twice in a race meet, but not me. Now, do you really want this stuff ordered or shall I let you suffer?’
‘It’s your business too,’ said Will with an infuriating grin.
Adam winced. ‘Come on, mate. Let’s make a drink before she takes you at your word.’
Jess heard them discussing the progress of the Athene in the kitchenette before the hiss of the kettle drowned out the conversation. She didn’t mind a bit of teasing from Will and while he could be short-tempered and annoying, he was a loyal brother and friend. He and Adam had been mates almost since the first time Adam had set foot on St Saviour’s. Although Jess’s first encounter with him was when he’d delivered a bag of mail to the farm two summers previously, it was through Will that she’d got to know him better. As Adam had played rugby semi-professionally in his Cumbrian home town, he was soon roped in as captain of the Scilly Corsairs. Will had soon realised Adam would also be ideal rowing material and persuaded him to join the St Saviour’s Men’s crew.
The two of them had hit it off quickly and Adam had been grateful for the excuse to visit the farm to see Jess before he’d eventually asked her out. He’d confessed as much to Will, who’d rolled his eyes and complained he’d never intended to ‘play matchmaker’ and must make sure he never did it again.
Ah. Will. What on earth was Jess going to do about his love life – or lack thereof?
With his rowing in the summer and rugby in the winter, plus the farm, her brother’s life seemingly was a full one. There hadn’t been much time for relationships, although he had dated a few women over the years. The longest lasting one had been with a Belgian woman who’d come to work in the ferry office in Hugh Town. She’d decided to go back to Ghent to study, so that had been the end of that. Will had wandered around in a gloom for a week or two but soon snapped out of it when rowing season started in the spring, so Jess had suspected he wasn’t too heartbroken.
Since then, he’d managed to acquire a reputation for being an impossible catch and even though he’d had a couple of flings with temporary visitors to the islands, he didn’t seem to have fallen hard for anyone special. That wasn’t so unusual because finding a partner among a small and ever-changing community was difficult in itself, not to mention when you were very busy and tied to a business, as Jess had also discovered over the years.
Before Adam, she hadn’t had the best romantic track record herself. A couple of flings that had fizzled out; one with a doctor who’d inevitably left to further his career on the mainland, and one with a policeman: ditto.
She counted herself incredibly lucky to have met Adam. She knew that moving in to his place was on the cards and she was looking forward to making a life together, and fingers crossed, having a family of their own one day.
And then Jess thought of her best mate, Maisie Samson. They’d been friends since their schooldays, although Maisie was a few years older. All the children from the smaller isles boarded at the high school on St Mary’s because it was too disruptive for them to constantly travel back and forth on boats every day. Maisie had taken Jess under her wing in the first year, and during the holidays when she’d returned from sixth form college on the mainland. As Jess grew up, they’d become firm friends.
Jess had supported Maisie through some dark times lately. Maisie had miscarried her previous pregnancy the Christmas before last. Far from being supportive, especially as Maisie has found it difficult to fall pregnant in the first place, her ex-boyfriend, Keegan had left very soon after, saying he couldn’t handle having children anyway. Keegan also happened to be Maisie’s boss at the brewery chain where she worked so after the trauma of losing her baby, Maisie had decided to come home to Scilly and help her parents run the Driftwood. How must she now feel, seeing her best friend, Jess, and Adam loved up? How would she react when Jess told her she would be moving in with Adam? And how would she feel when, hopefully, she and Adam had kids? Maisie would put on a brave face because she was a good friend, and Jess hoped that Maisie would find someone as sexy and just-plain-lovely as Adam, and they could all enjoy their families together. They could have their own little gig crew one day … well, you never knew. Miracles could happen.
But this wasn’t getting the cardboard ordered, and giving herself a stern talking-to, Jess refocused. Ten minutes later, she pushed away the keyboard in triumph and turned to the boys. ‘There. Done and dusted, fingers crossed.’
Will groaned. ‘Really? Thanks. Now I know why you run the operations side of things while I stick to the fields. I’ll get back to Len and see if he’s still freaking out about the flower refrigeration room.’ He collected his phone from the table. ‘Oh, I dropped in on Princess Gabriella before the system threw a wobbly. She’s very smart, but I’m not sure she’s right for the farm. I’ve no idea why she wanted to hide away in the middle of nowhere or where she thought a degree in poetry comes in. Maybe she’s going to read to the Innisidgens.’
Jess recalled Gaby’s quotation about the sea with amusement but decided not to share it with Will. ‘It’s actually a PhD in poetry, and apparently she wanted to try out a new lifestyle away from the city. Plus she did fix the pump.’
‘A lucky break,’ said Will. ‘We’ll see how she gets on.’
‘People have a lot of different reasons for coming to Scilly. Some of them end up sticking around,’ said Adam, shooting a knowing look at Jess that made her skin tingle. She didn’t think she could wait much longer to drag him off to bed. ‘I think she’ll do OK,’ he added.
‘As long as you don’t call her Princess Gabriella in front of Len and the others,’ said Jess.
Adam laughed at Will. ‘I reckon you’ve got a handful there, pal.’
‘I don’t know what you mean. Len will soon kick her into shape,’ he said.
Jess got up and Adam slipped his arms around her waist. Jess put hers around his neck.
Will made a fingers-down-throat gesture. ‘Do you mind not doing that holding hands and kissing thing in here? Why don’t you get a room?’
Adam glanced at Jess, who was still gleeful at seeing Will so wound up by Gaby. ‘Great idea. We might do that, hey, Jess?’ They both loved teasing him. ‘We ought to start practising for when we have kids. I think half a dozen would do for starters – you need a team of unpaid pickers.’
Will pulled a face. ‘Eww. Lovey-dovey stuff. Puts me right off my coffee. I’m off to do some work while you two get on with it whatever it is.’ He walked into the yard, shouting. ‘Leonard! I’ve sorted the cardboard order.’
Jess gasped. ‘Hey! I did it!’
Adam laughed. ‘Leave him. He has to have some victories after losing that spat with Gaby. His face was priceless.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘Let’s forget about them. I’ve been dying to get you on your own.’
‘Do I have a say in this brood of little flower pickers?’ she said, guessing Will thought Adam was joking about the kids, whilst she wasn’t so sure. Maybe they should have the conversation later at his cottage. Or now. ‘Because two will do,’ she said.
Adam laughed. ‘Like I said, we’d better put in some practice.’
He slid his hand under the hair at the nape of her neck. Closing her eyes, she let her head tip back, anticipating the touch of his lips on hers as he gently pulled her in for a kiss. When it came, the kiss made her knees buckle and her whole body feel as if she’d been dipped in popping candy. It was the weirdest, but most wonderful sensation. No one had ever made her feel like that, not even when she’d been a teenager and had a Christmas kiss with the best-looking boy in the school. Now she was in her mid-thirties she felt she had no right to feel so intensely. She would have been scared by it but she was ninety-nine per cent sure that Adam felt the same way and that their relationship was about to move on to the next level.
Adam held her and she rested her cheek against his chest, enjoying the beat of his heart under the warm cotton and the scent of him. That was what was so amazing about being in love, she thought: being able to abandon yourself to a kiss, and to one person. Sod the world, sod the business, sod everything except the two of them: her and Adam, even if it was just for a few minutes or hours. She’d love to have that feeling of pure joy every day and for the rest of her life – but was it possible? It hadn’t been for her mum and dad – or Maisie – but it could be for her and Adam.
‘Did you mean that, about the room?’ she murmured, looking into his eyes.
Adam’s face was suddenly serious. ‘Of course. We need to talk about it. Shall we go to my place or does Will need you here?’
‘Sounds like the best offer I’ve had all day. Will always needs me here, but I’ve done my bit and it’s technically my day off. I’ll come back later tonight to see how Gaby’s doing.’
Adam kissed her again and Jess thought she might take off with happiness. And lust. Things were going well: for the farm and finally for her love life.
‘Come on then,’ he said. He took her hand as they walked to Thrift Cottage, which nestled behind a stony bay at the far end of the island.
The next couple of hours were lost in some deliciously wicked downtime before the shadows lengthened outside and Jess reluctantly started to get dressed. No matter how much she wanted to stay in bed with Adam or sleep over in the cottage, there was way too much to be done at the farm and she didn’t want to abandon Gaby on her first night. Despite what she’d said to Adam earlier, running a farm meant she never really had a ‘proper’ whole day off.
‘Sorry. Have to go back to work soon,’ she said, pulling her T-shirt over her head. ‘I can’t leave Will on his own for much longer. It’s not fair.’
Adam sat on the edge of the bed, still naked. ‘We can spend more time together when you move in … you’ll be in my bed every night. Come here.’
Jess joined him at the bed and stood between his legs. Even now the sight of him made her long to jump straight back under the patchwork cover with him. In fact, it was crazy not to move in with him as she already spent plenty of nights here each week. There was no reason to wait any longer and it wasn’t as if she had to move any further than half a mile from the farm. Everything could carry on as before, only much better. She held his head between her hands, leaned down and kissed him, feeling as if she could float on air.
‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow evening. Shall I come for dinner?’ she said.
‘Sounds perfect. Stay over and we can start moving your stuff in.’
‘I hope you can find room for my extensive collection of fleeces and wellies.’
‘Of course, but don’t bother with any underwear, will you?’
‘Ha ha,’ said Jess, brimming with excitement while also wondering what her mother’s reaction would be. Will would be happy for her, but her mum had dropped enough hints for Jess to work out that she didn’t think an island postman was good enough for her daughter. Jess wasn’t too concerned. She had long since ceased to care what her mother thought about her choice of partners and where Adam was concerned, she was resolved not to let her spoil her moment.
A buzzing came from underneath Adam’s abandoned boxers.
‘Yours or mine?’ she asked.
‘Sounds like mine. Probably Javid calling me about rowing practice …’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Oh shit, is that the time? I promised to meet him down at the gig sheds ten minutes ago. See how you’ve distracted me. I’ll call him to say I’ll be late.’
Jess moved away as Adam picked up his phone and frowned at the screen.
‘It’s not Javid … it’s a text … I don’t know …’ His voice trailed off and he stared at the screen for a few moments. His smile evaporated and he scrolled down further.
Jess joined him on the edge of the bed. ‘Adam? What is it?’
‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’
Her stomach turned over. ‘It doesn’t look like nothing. You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’
‘I’m fine.’ He threw the phone on the duvet. ‘It was just a junk message. Sick of them to be honest.’ Flashing a smile at her, he grabbed his shirt. ‘I need to get down to the sheds. Sorry …’
‘Oh. OK, I should be getting home anyway. See you tomorrow?’
‘Yeah. Sure.’ Adam pecked her on the cheek before scrambling into his clothes.
Jess looked at the phone lying face-down in the folds of the duvet. Adam’s reaction convinced her the text had been more important than he was letting on, but she certainly had no intention of checking his mobile. She trusted him to tell her if anything was amiss.
Adam saw her to the front door. He always stood in the porch watching her until she was out of sight of him – perhaps longer for all she knew. He still stood there today, but as she reached the point when she would lose that last glimpse of him, she turned around to find the porch empty.
She told herself she was being paranoid and she was tired at the end of a long summer of work … and sex. Then she thought back to the hasty kiss, the eager removal of his hands from her waist and to the empty spot on the cottage porch and shivered. She was probably overthinking things but she had the feeling that whatever was in that text, it had shifted Adam’s world on its axis and, with it, her own.

Chapter 5 (#u7b3d71fc-d3ee-55af-84a4-cfce7db8c2d4)
Five and a half months later
Valentine’s Day
The Flower Farm, St Saviour’s
Well, it was one way to spend Valentine’s Day … Gaby took a swig of coffee from her mug as she and her fellow pickers enjoyed a quick break in the ‘staff rest area’, which was actually an old farm building with a couple of ancient sofas, a sink and kettle. It was the middle of the morning and she was more than ready for a break. Her back and arms ached already and it wasn’t eleven a.m. yet. Her dungarees were damp and despite the rubber gloves, her fingers were almost numb as she warmed them on her steaming mug.
The stems had grown thigh-high and the fields were aglow with blooms. Beyond the hedges, the Atlantic Ocean was topped by frothy whitecaps whipped up by the brisk February wind, while the other isles were green oases in the silvery-blue sea.
It had rained overnight; in fact, it had been raining for a few days now and the fields were thick with mud that threatened to ooze over the top of her wellies. However, the skies had now cleared and she’d been able to forgo the bright yellow oilskins provided by the farm. They kept her dry but also swamped her and Gaby felt like she was in a TV ad for frozen fish fingers when she was wearing them. There was still a keen wind gusting so she’d kept on the extra layer of luxury thermals she’d been given by Carly when she’d gone home for the Christmas break.
Gaby still had to pinch herself from time to time, amazed she’d survived through the winter rain and gales and into the spring. When she looked around her, she stood in her own ocean: the flowers around her were a sea of cream, gold and green. She’d been harvesting two of her favourites: Daymark, with its creamy petals and bright orange cups and Yellow Cheer, a double-headed variety with a subtle but lovely scent.
Since arriving at the end of the summer, she’d alternated between the fields and sheds. She’d learned how to pick the tightly closed buds when they showed the merest hint of colour and carefully hold huge bunches under her arm before placing them in deep white crates called Proconas. They were then whizzed off to the packing sheds by quad bike and stored in a refrigerated room until the team were ready to arrange them. Over the months, she’d also learned how to grade and arrange the different varieties into bunches of tens and pack them in tissue-lined boxes ready to be transported to the St Saviour’s quay and on to the airport.
She’d guessed she’d have to work hard when she first arrived but nothing could have prepared her for how tired she’d feel. Even after tending her own allotment at her college and working for the commercial nursery, harvesting the narcissi was knackering – especially in the run-up to Christmas and the previous week as they’d worked into the night to make sure all the Valentine’s bouquets reached their recipients in time for today.
Gaby still remembered the look on Jess’s face when she’d first landed at St Mary’s airport almost six months previously – and the dismay on Len’s craggy features when they’d been introduced: not to mention Will’s horrified expression.
He was still brusque, impatient, and his jokes weren’t anywhere near as funny as he thought they were. However, she’d soon found out that even though he was the boss, he was prepared to take as much banter as he dished out. In return, Gaby had been determined to give as good as she got and the two of them had earned a reputation for sparky exchanges.
Slowly but surely, she’d settled in at the farm almost without realising it. Many were the times when she’d been so exhausted, so stiff and cold that she’d thought of swimming home to Cornwall. But with the help of her mates at the farm and at home supporting her, and a bloody-minded determination, here she was, a fully-fledged member of the team. Besides, no amount of back-breaking work or taunts from Will could ever compare with the tough times that she’d been through at home.
She’d also fulfilled her other ambition to visit Tresco Abbey Gardens. In fact, she’d invested in an annual pass and been half a dozen times, as there was colour and beauty in the exotic plants all year round. She’d spotted the red squirrels and had become quite a fixture, making friends with some of the staff and meeting up with them when she could get away from the farm. She felt she was slowly building a life on St Saviour’s – even though it was temporary – and although she still thought of her brother several times a day, there were times when hours passed and she realised he hadn’t been on her mind and that the remembrance of him didn’t come with quite such a sharp pang of loss as months before.
Thinking of Stevie and home she decided she would call her mum and dad after her shift today. Maybe they’d like a bunch of the narcissi she was harvesting. She could make up a special bouquet of her favourites and send them to her parents. The Carter family had an emotional day coming up soon so she had the perfect excuse to see how everyone was coping. It would have been Stevie’s twenty-second birthday later in the month and Gaby was sorry to be away from home on a day that was bound to be hard for everyone including her.
Gaby started to walk back into the field and back to work cramming the remains of a Mars bar in her mouth. That was one thing: she could eat what she liked with all the physical work and though she’d put a bit of weight on, even Carly had said she looked ‘miles better’ when she’d seen her at Christmas, ‘apart from the ruddy cheeks and farmer’s tan; I’ll send you some of my sunscreen, instead of that cheap rubbish you use’. She went back to her picking. Carly would be horrified if she saw her now: knee-deep in damp flowers with a wet crotch and hair like a scarecrow. She might take a selfie and send it tomorrow. Anything that could bring a smile to her family’s faces was worth doing.

Chapter 6 (#ulink_a28d16a1-fad2-5c41-a086-85c56c388b71)
Jess drank in the scent of the blooms she was helping to harvest. She’d been working in one of the lower fields since early morning. The farm had safely got through the week leading up to Valentine’s Day with a healthy stream of orders that, thankfully, had reached customers on time without any major disasters. The days were lengthening and the temperatures slowly but surely creeping up. Spring was here.
She didn’t normally work outside and Valentine’s Day itself ought to be a time for a breather but the flowers kept on growing anyway and the farm had a large wholesale order for a supermarket to fulfil. Most of all, she was hoping that a busy day in the fields would help to blot out the event she’d wished would never come, but was actually happening.
That had been a false hope judging by the way her stomach turned over when she heard the low-pitched drone of the plane engine in the sky above her. That sound meant the end of long-cherished dreams that she’d clung onto against all the odds for months now.
Will was walking towards her down the row between the narcissi. She took a deep breath, filling her senses with the scent, hoping he wasn’t going to offer her sympathy or she might actually cry. It was a forlorn hope because the first thing he said when he reached her was, ‘That’s Adam’s flight.’
She nodded. Adam and Will had remained civil and met up with their rugby and rowing mates, but Jess realised their relationship had cooled too.
‘How do you know?’ she asked him.
‘Patrick told me last night. Adam was in the pub and mentioned it. I’d guessed that Maisie told you too?’
She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I think Adam wanted me to know he was leaving today.’
‘You can’t know that for sure …’ She felt Will’s hand briefly on her shoulder, but then he removed it, probably not wanting to draw the attention of the nearby field workers. ‘I’m sorry, Jess.’
She gulped back a sob and dug her nails in her palm. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Maybe, but he is – was my friend. I wish I could have made him see what a dick he’s being.’
‘It doesn’t matter now. It’s over.’ She brushed her knuckles over damp cheeks.
Will dug a handkerchief out of his pocket. ‘It’s clean,’ he said as she hesitated.
‘Thanks.’ She took it and hastily wiped her face.
He grinned. ‘Sorry. Almost clean.’
She laughed but another sob bubbled up. ‘Oh, Will. Shit. Why am I bothered about him still? It was over last August, the day he got that text.’
‘I did try to ask him what the fuck was happening but he made it clear it was between you and him.’
‘That’s no help because he wouldn’t even tell me anything.’
She took a few deep breaths. When her mind had dwelt on why Adam had decided to end their relationship over the winter months, she’d tried to think of the good things like her family, her friends and her home. Many times, over the previous autumn and through the long dark nights of winter, she’d reminded herself how lucky she was to live in such a beautiful place.
The engine note changed as the Twin Otter climbed higher after leaving St Mary’s airport. It banked, heading straight for the farm. If she looked up, she might be able to see the passengers in the windows of the tiny aircraft. She imagined Adam’s face and wondered if he was feeling as devastated as her – or was he merely relieved to finally be out of her life for good?
‘I keep trying not to care but knowing he’s up there makes it feel so bloody final. The final nail in the coffin.’
‘I’m sorry. Life is shit sometimes,’ was all Will could offer, but he shaded his eyes and looked up at the plane too.
There was no possibility of a last-minute reprieve. He really was going. Already had gone. As Adam flew over, he’d be able to see the golden fields below and easily pick out the flower farm. He’d easily distinguish Thrift Cottage. Perhaps he would even spot her, standing in the middle of the field staring up at him. Would he be feeling as if his heart had been ripped out too? Would he be longing to turn that plane around and head back to Scilly and tell her that he’d made a huge mistake and ask if they could start again?
The plane was almost directly overhead. She was being silly. It wasn’t likely Adam was looking out for her. If he cared that much, he’d be here on the earth not leaving, because they had been happy once. Everything had been perfect until that bank holiday in August.
Something had changed in the moment he received that text. That message had sent him racing home to Cumbria to deal with a ‘family crisis’ and when he’d returned, he was a different person, as if he’d picked up a burden overnight. It had started a chain of events – all still a mystery to Jess – that had gradually seen Adam loosen his connection with her over the autumn until last October he’d said he needed a break. His reasons had been vague and no amount of questioning by Jess had ever unearthed the real cause, just that ‘he had to have some space.’ She’d been upset, then angry, before finally accepting that she might never know what had happened. Will had tried to ask him what the matter was and met with a firm rebuff, and even Maisie had tried to find out and got the same stony silence.
With Adam living and working in the same tiny community, it had been impossible not to bump into him around the island and in the local pubs. On those occasions, they’d barely spoken, although they’d exchanged plenty of looks. Occasionally, Jess had thought Adam was about to speak to her but other times, he’d seemed eager to be out of her sight as soon as possible. He’d walked out of the Driftwood a couple of times shortly after she’d walked in, once attracting comments from the regulars about leaving his glass half full.
In November, Adam flew home to Cumbria and was gone again for a few days at Christmas, presumably to see his parents. He’d visited them before and they’d stayed with him a few times but Jess couldn’t help wondering why he was going back so frequently, as it was an expensive and time-consuming business. Even though she’d been angry and hurt, she hadn’t stopped loving him, which seemed the cruellest thing of all.
‘He’s still renting the cottage. I know that much,’ said Will, returning his attention from the plane to Jess. ‘Maybe he does plan on coming back.’
‘It’s probably because he can’t get out of the cottage lease. There’s a few months left on it. I know that because he took out a year’s contract on it last spring.’
‘Hmm. If he was too much of a coward to even explain properly why he’s leaving, then you’re better off without him. Oh, shit. There’s Mum.’
Jess groaned as they both spotted Anna crossing the yard at the top of the field. Fortunately she walked straight past the entrance to the field and headed in the direction of the barn where they stored the animal feed and other farm supplies.
‘Phew, for a moment there, I thought she was coming over to give us the benefit of her views on Adam again,’ said Will, toeing the soil with his Hunters. ‘Not to mention our love lives, or lack of them.’
‘Yes, she doesn’t have the greatest view of men in general and Adam specifically. A postman was never “good enough” for me, according to her, and now her lack of faith in him has been proven.’
Anna had been quick to subscribe to the theory that Adam had a secret girlfriend or even wife and told Jess ‘it was typical of bloody men’ – in other words, she considered Adam in the same league as her ex-husband. Jess knew Adam wasn’t the same as their father. At least she hoped he wasn’t. But maybe her mother was spot on and Adam had been seeing another woman and his reluctance to explain himself had merely been guilt. There probably wasn’t some great mystery behind his change of heart, just someone else who he cared for more than Jess.
Will heaved a sigh. ‘Well, I’d better be getting back to work. If you need me, you know where I am. If you want to get out tonight, why not come down the Gannet for a few drinks?’
Jess had never felt less like going out, but maybe drowning her sorrows was better than moping. ‘Thanks. I may just do that.’
‘You can keep the hanky,’ he said and, with a consoling squeeze of her fingers, he went back to supervise the harvest in the top field.
Jess tore her eyes from the plane and bent low to twist and pluck a stem from the earth. She had to get a grip. Adam had clearly moved on and it was time she did too. For the next half an hour, she threw all her energy into furiously plucking flowers. Yet she couldn’t shake off the thought that something dramatic had changed while Adam had been away from Scilly in the dark nights of the previous autumn. Although she’d hardly spoken to him, his behaviour had seemed erratic to say the least. Over those autumn and winter months, she’d caught his longing looks, the moments when he’d been about to say something to her and stopped. If she could only have got through to him, reached him somehow but it was obvious that all meaningful communication between them was long over. And … then in January, she’d finally found out that Adam was leaving Scilly for good.
In contrast, Maisie’s life had changed dramatically over the past six months – for the better. Jess was delighted for her friend, although it seemed as if the two of them had exchanged places. She so wanted Maisie to be happy, although the contrast in their lives since last August couldn’t have been bigger. Since then, Maisie had found love again with Patrick McKinnon, a handsome Australian who had come to work in the Driftwood Inn – and stayed. He and Maisie were now having a baby after a whirlwind romance and had moved in to a cottage near the pub.
Jess heard voices and laughter from the seasonal staff. They included Gaby who stood up and stretched her spine. Her oversized dungarees hung off her and her hair was caught up in an old-fashioned headscarf like one of those Land Girls you saw in wartime TV series. She was peering at the plane as if she knew Adam was on board too. Gaby caught sight of Jess and raised a hand in a half wave.
Jess waved back before pretending to inspect a bloom. Gaby didn’t need Jess being a grumpy arse too. She had enough to put up with, with Will’s scathing comments and grumpiness. For some reason, he behaved very strangely around her, although Jess was pleased that Gaby gave as good as she got. She’d surprised Jess with her resilience; that inner core of steel Jess had glimpsed had really shown itself and Gaby had become a valued member of the team.
Thinking of the staff reminded Jess of how many people depended on her getting on with things and that’s exactly what she was determined to do. Besides, she had a family wedding to look forward to at the end of the month as her cousin, Julia, was marrying a guy who worked in the same hotel as her on St Piran’s island. Will and Anna were going of course, and the farm was supplying most of the flowers for the venue. The wedding was set to be one of the biggest on the isles for years. Now wasn’t that exactly what you wanted when the person you loved had just flown out of your life forever?

Chapter 7 (#ulink_c1f93e92-a1f7-5714-ab66-31b527116d6e)
Valentine’s Day was already a memory when Gaby made her way from the staff house towards the fields, there was a hint of true spring in the air. They were into the final week of February and although an inch of snow had fallen in London, gridlocking the capital, the air on St Saviour’s was mild and the sun warm on her back. She planned on calling her parents later, but for now, a day of work lay ahead.
She hoped the hard work would help to stop her from dwelling too often on the fact that Stevie would have been twenty-two today. Not only that, but the first anniversary of his death was only a month away. It would be a very tough time for the whole family and Gaby planned to go home for a long weekend to support her parents.
‘Gaby!’
The shout came from Will who was about to waylay her as she was entering the top field. Her spirits lifted when she saw his outfit: a charcoal grey suit, with the trousers tucked into his wellies. Both the trousers and jacket looked brand new, teamed with a white shirt and tie, which also looked fresh from the box – unlike his trusty wellies. He carried a small narcissus buttonhole between his fingertips as he bore down on her. Gaby waited for him by the edge of the field, acutely aware of the contrast between Will’s smart suit and her own outfit. Along with her dungarees, she was wearing a new hat: one of those patterned Norwegian woollen ones with a fleece lining that made her look like an elf. Resisting the urge to pull it off before Will saw it, she braced herself for a confrontation but had no idea why.
‘Gaby, have you got a moment?’ he said briskly.
‘Yes, boss.’ She peered at his clean-shaven chin, not sure if she preferred it to the usual stubble. Then decided she did rather like it and had to stifle a giggle.
He frowned. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
He rubbed his chin. ‘Have I got toothpaste on my chin or something?’
‘No. Everything’s fine.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Good because I’ve no time to fart about this morning. This wedding’s come at our busiest time and I can’t really afford a whole day off. Why do these events have to last all day?’ He pulled a face, then poked his fingers through his hair which was still damp from where he’d rushed out of the shower by the look of it.
Gaby nodded enthusiastically. ‘I totally agree. I’m never offended when I only get asked to the evening do. And those Save the Date cards give you no chance of booking a week in Outer Mongolia so you have a good excuse for getting out of them.’
He laughed. ‘Well, as we’re already in Outer Mongolia, I never need an excuse to avoid the things on the mainland, but I’ve no get-out this time. Mum’s close to her sister, so we have to go and, of course, we’ve provided all the flowers for the church and reception.’
‘Yes, I did notice.’
Gaby had been called in to help pick and take the flowers into the shed, where Becca, one of the senior members of the design team, had worked with the wedding florists to create the table arrangements, displays and bouquets. There were jasmine-scented Paper Whites, sunny Hugh Towns and Daymarks, with added greenery and some other spring blooms from the mainland to add a splash of contrasting colour. The flowers had been loaded onto the boat at first light to transport to the wedding venue at St Piran’s community hall.
‘I really don’t want to leave you, of course,’ Will said, adding hastily. ‘To cope on your own, I mean.’
‘I expect we’ll survive somehow.’
He sighed. ‘Good … I don’t feel I can bring the boat back here straight after the ceremony, leaving Jess and Mum to get a lift later. The new group of pickers who arrived yesterday need supervising. Normally we don’t take on new staff mid-season, but we need them for that new supermarket contract that Jess has managed to secure and Len’s not well and can’t come in today.’
‘I heard Len was ill. Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘Norovirus, apparently, but he needs to keep well away from everyone or it’ll go through the whole team.’
‘Poor Len,’ said Gaby, and she meant it. Although Len could be a pain in the bum, she didn’t really want him to go down with Noro.
‘He’s stopped throwing up but he has to stay away for another forty-eight hours.’ He shoved one hand in his suit pocket. Gaby winced. Stevie had always done that on the rare occasion he could be strong-armed into a suit like the day she got her Master’s a few years earlier. She could hear her mum now, saying, ‘For heaven’s sake, Stevie, you’ll ruin the cut of those trousers.’ Stevie had rolled his eyes and shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. Gaby smiled.
Will didn’t.
‘The thing is. You’ve come on a lot. I despaired when you first started, but I’m beginning to think you might make a half-decent picker after all.’
‘Why, thank you for the compliment, Mr Godrevy.’
He frowned deeply as if he was offended, then the corners of his lips tilted. ‘I – we – need you to keep an eye on the new lot, just for today. You know what novices are like. We need to finish harvesting the Daymarks for a big wholesale order. I wouldn’t ask but we’re desperate, so if you could leave this and go up there and show them the ropes. I’ll tell them you’re the temporary supervisor and know it all inside out so they won’t know any different.’
‘Again. Thanks for the vote of confidence.’
He grinned. ‘You’re welcome. I like the new tea cosy by the way.’
‘I like your new overalls.’ She raised a cheeky eyebrow.
He glanced down and grimaced. ‘Make the most of it. You’re not likely to see me in a suit again.’
‘I guess not. Um. You might like to cut the tag off before you go to the wedding.’
‘What? Damn. Where?’
‘The price tag’s hanging down the back. Hold on.’
Gaby held the buttonhole so he could take off his jacket. She snipped off the price tag with the cutters she kept in her pocket and smirked. The jacket had obviously been ordered online from John Lewis and was actually a rather nice one. She tried not to smile too much while he shrugged it back over his broad shoulders.
‘Don’t forget this.’ She offered the flower.
‘Thanks.’ He took the buttonhole from her, pulled a pin from his lapel and started trying to fasten it.
‘Hold on. You’re making holes in your new suit.’
She took the bloom from him, stuck the pin between her teeth and in seconds had fastened the narcissus neatly onto his lapel. With a gentle tweak to make sure it was at exactly the right angle, she stood back to admire her handiwork.
And him.
Wow. This was quite worrying. The way her hands weren’t quite steady when she’d finished fixing the flower. The way her stomach did a routine to rival an Olympic tumbler at the feel of his suit under her hands. The hungry way that he was looking at her despite her tea cosy hat and her dungarees with the strange flask-shaped bulge in the pocket like she was nursing a baby kangaroo.
He lowered his chin and peered down at the buttonhole. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Practice. I’ve fixed them lots of times for friends during exams,’ she said. When he looked surprised, she added, ‘They liked to wear a different colour carnation for every day of Finals. It lightens the mood a little as you’re going to the gallows,’ she explained as his brow creased in puzzlement.
‘That’s how I feel.’
She laughed at his gloomy expression. ‘Then again, this is a wedding, not root canal work.’
‘Hmm … look, thanks again, and if there are any problems, you can reach me or Jess on our mobiles. It might take a while for us to get here, but if it’s an emergency, you must call.’
‘Relax. Enjoy. Everything will be fine,’ she said breezily. If only she meant it.
‘I’m sure it will. And, Gaby …’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you absolutely sure you’ll be OK?’
He looked at her and lifted his hand as if he was going to touch her but then dropped it again. He can’t possibly know what today is, Gaby told herself. No one outside the family knew. She wasn’t sure he even knew about Stevie at all. She had mentioned the circumstances briefly to Jess not long after she’d joined the farm, but asked her not to tell anyone else. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, least of all Will’s, but she did crave his respect … Oh, who was she kidding? She fancied him like crazy, and the sight of him in a suit and wellies was fuelling a load of very unusual fantasies.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, then cleared her husky throat. ‘Just go to the wedding, Will. Please.’
Yet he made no move to leave her, and they held each other’s gaze too long for boss and employee. For a few seconds, she genuinely wondered if he might jump on her in his wedding suit in the middle of a muddy field.
‘Will! What on earth are you doing? You’ll ruin that suit!’
At the shout from behind him, Will turned sharply, but Gaby could already see Anna making her way into the field. Like her son, Anna was also wearing wellies, but any resemblance ended there. She was holding up the skirt of a purple shift dress while hobbling between the flower rows. She wore a fitted teal jacket over the dress and her immaculate blow-dry was topped by a fascinator of extravagant blue and purple feathers. She reminded Gaby of a very angry peacock.
She reached them, darted an accusing glance at Gaby and then rounded on Will, while keeping her tight dress above the level of her wellies.
‘I’ve been looking for you for the past twenty minutes. What are you doing out here?’
‘Sorting out some cover for the new crew. Mum, be careful or you’ll get your dress dirty.’
‘If I do it’ll be thanks to you. We need to leave!’
‘I’m ready now. Gaby’s going to supervise the new crew while Len’s out of action.’
Anna’s eyebrows rose. ‘Her?’
‘Yes, Mum. Everything’s fine.’
‘Well, if you think Gaby’s up to it. No disrespect to you, of course,’ Anna said to Gaby, when she was clearly thinking something very cutting indeed. ‘But you are new and it is a huge responsibility.’
Gaby opened her mouth to try and get a shot into this game of Godrevy ping-pong, but Will batted his response back too fast.
‘Mum. It’s only for a day and Gaby knows exactly what she has to do. She’s been here six months and if there’s a crisis, I’ll have to bring the boat back, won’t I?’
Anna pursed her lips. ‘And wouldn’t you just love an excuse to do that?’
‘It’s fine. I promise you there won’t be a crisis.’ Gaby finally jumped into the rally. ‘So, you can all go and have a lovely time at the wedding. Don’t worry about anything. Enjoy your day,’ she said emphasising the word ‘day’, so Will knew he had to stay away.
‘Thanks a lot,’ said Will, his eyes gleaming with a mix of gratitude and exasperation.
Gaby grinned. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Well, as there’s no one else, I suppose we’ve no choice,’ Anna muttered. ‘Now let’s get on our way before you change your mind. I know how much you’d love to find another reason to get out of this. Your aunt fully expects you to find some way of wriggling out of it as it is, so we’re going to show them, they’re wrong.’
Anna stumbled. Will caught her arm and stopped her from slipping into the mud.
‘Be careful, Mum. Now, come on or we’ll be late for this damn wedding.’
‘I’ve been telling you that for the past hour!’ Anna shrugged off his arm and squelched off, holding up her hem and muttering about where Jess had got to now and hoping she’d have a lovely day as she deserved some fun after what that bloody postman had done to her.
Will turned to Gaby and mouthed ‘thanks’.
Gaby watched him trudge after his mum.
She was pleased to be given the chance to show she could look after everyone despite the moths stirring in her stomach. All she had to do was show the rookie team how to harvest the crop and get it done by the time Will got back. That would show Len and Anna. Most of all, it would give her something to focus on, on a day that held such bittersweet memories.

Chapter 8 (#ulink_c56593a1-a461-5356-8b4d-1fcaa9393167)
Gaby was glad the four new pickers couldn’t see her churning stomach as they gathered outside the packing shed. They’d only arrived the previous day and most bore the same expression that she must have had on her first day: a rabbit in the headlights. They shuffled around, dressed in a jumble sale mix of hats, jumpers and gloves.
There was a slight look of the chain gang about them, Gaby thought, stifling a giggle. By now, they would have realised that, until tomorrow at least, there was no way off the island even if they’d wanted to leg it. Pickers were often native Scillonians but today there was only one local who was new to picking. The other two were from the mainland UK and one was Polish. Natalia was about Gaby’s age and from a small town outside Krakow. She’d worked in various market gardens in East Anglia over the past couple of years and looked slightly less terrified than the others. She also knew Cambridge a little, which had broken the ice between them when they had been briefly introduced the previous evening.
Gaby straightened herself up to her full five feet one and a half and threw them all a confident smile.
‘OK. You’ve already had your induction and health and safety with Len yesterday, so we’re going to get straight to work,’ she said. ‘We need to pick the Daymark and Yellow Cheer today. This is a Daymark. You can tell it by the bright orange cups.’ She held up the distinctive flower in one hand and a paler yellow one in the other. ‘And this is a Yellow Cheer, but of course, we don’t want to pick any that are already in bloom like this one. We look for tight buds that will be ready to open when they reach the customers. Don’t we?’
Natalia nodded but the others seemed nonplussed.
‘Come on! You can do better than that,’ she said, feeling like an aerobics instructor faced by a Monday morning class.
‘Yes, Gaby,’ a faint chorus and a few smirks. She suspected they knew she wasn’t used to being in charge and were obviously looking for signs of weakness.
She soldiered on. ‘You don’t have to worry anyway, because I’ll show you the exact varieties we’re going to be working on. You’ll soon be able to tell which is which by their scent alone. I’ll be around to help if anyone has any questions or problems.’
Although, by now, she could have picked and packed with her eyes shut, it was another thing instructing a group of newbies who were staring at her as if she was the fount of all knowledge.
She grinned. ‘Come on then. Let’s get on with it before this lot is already in bloom.’
The local pointed to the nearest field. ‘That’s the field we’re doing?’ he asked incredulously.
‘What? All of it?’ a skinny guy with a Scottish accent asked. He was called Robbie, appropriately enough, thought Gaby, resisting the urge to quote Burns. That really would freak everyone out.
‘Yes. It’s perfectly doable before the end of the day. Even for beginners,’ Gaby added with a touch of sarcasm. Len would have been proud. Will must have carefully calculated exactly what the novice team could pick in the time allotted. So, she was damn well going to get it done, no matter how much they moaned.
Without giving them any more time to revolt, she marched them to the field, setting to with gusto and hoping to lead by example. However, it was frustrating work as she had to break off every few minutes to correct someone’s technique or answer questions about whether the bloom was at the right stage. Normally, Len drove the quad bike full of crates back to the packing shed, but Gaby had to do it herself, which meant she had to leave her team for minutes at a time and wait while the crates were unloaded at the packing shed and collect empty ones.
By lunchtime, they’d only done a third of the field, but everyone, including Gaby, was desperate for a break and there was no way she would expect anyone to work through.
The moment lunchtime was over, Gaby led her crew back to the field, trying to work at double the rate. Ignoring her aching back, burning arms and sore fingers, she did her best to make up the difference. Her team were more experienced now; even though they were tired, they’d had a morning’s practice and there were less interruptions. The general manager, Lawrence did her a favour by collecting some of the full crates on the quad bike and bringing empty ones back when he could spare a few minutes from the office.
By mid-afternoon, Gaby was starting to think they would come close to finishing the job but not quite. Her heart sank. She’d wanted to get it done, and show Anna, Len and Will that she could do it – and mostly, she relished the challenge. She had a feeling that Will wouldn’t be disappointed if she didn’t. Perhaps, he never really expected it, but for her own satisfaction, Gaby wanted to do it. Bizarrely, she also had the idea that she needed to do it for Stevie. There was no rational reason for this, although the analytical part of her brain suggested it was probably another way of coping with her emotions on a difficult day. It was certainly a way to keep busy and ensure she went to bed completely knackered.
The sun started to sink lower and, with it, the spirits and rate of the novices dropped significantly. They were all shattered and frequently standing up to stretch or moan, or both. Gaby knew how they felt. She was ready to drop and she knew they’d be stiff and aching for days until they got used to the constant stooping and the sore fingers.
She checked her watch. Arghh. There was only twenty minutes to go before she had to let everyone clock off.
‘Come on. Not long. One more push!’ she shouted, but knowing that they were very unlikely to finish the field now.
Most, but not all the workers, made a final effort, but what seemed like mere moments later, Gaby’s alarm went off.
With a sigh, she stood up, her fingers numb and stiff from the extra effort she’d made.
‘OK. That’s it. You’ll be pleased to know that’s the end of your first day. Thanks for your great work and see you tomorrow.’
In seconds, the field was empty, apart from Natalia who patted Gaby on the back. ‘Thanks.’
‘What for? Cracking the whip?’ Gaby was bemused.
‘For not being a horrible boss.’
Gaby laughed. ‘Thanks, but I’m not your boss. Will and Jess are.’
‘I met Jess. She seems OK. Quiet but nice. Fair. Will is hot.’ Natalia fanned herself extravagantly, then pulled a face. ‘But he also walks around like he has a thundercloud over his head. He needs a girlfriend.’ She grinned. ‘Or boyfriend?’
Gaby had to smile too, but she was horrified that Natalia had sussed out in a moment that Gaby fancied Will, and inside a light bulb had gone on. What if Will looked stressed out because he wanted a boyfriend? What if she’d misread the moments between them – or just imagined them – and Will was gay?
‘All Will cares about is getting these flowers picked,’ she said, and that at least was partly true.
‘We did our best,’ said Natalia, pulling off her gloves. ‘The rest of us will be here tomorrow. So will Len.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ve heard the others talking about him. I hope his sickness decides to stay with him for a while longer.’
Gaby stifled a laugh. She didn’t want Len to be ill and his bark was a lot worse than his bite, but his reputation for drilling the new workers like a platoon sergeant was fearsome and well-earned. ‘I doubt any bug would dare hang around Len for too long. I’m surprised that one’s dared to approach him in the first place.’
‘Hmm. I’m going for food in the common room. Then some of us should go to the pub. There is a pub here?’
‘Yes. The Gannet. It’s about ten minutes’ walk away. You go and get cleaned up. I need to drive these crates up to the sheds. Then maybe I’ll join you in the pub later if I haven’t fallen asleep in my room!’
This was more than likely, thought Gaby as she trudged back to the staff house after unloading a batch of crates. She was very tired but secretly happy, even though she hadn’t finished the whole field. She’d got the small team working well and encouraged them to keep going even when some looked like they wanted to chuck it all in. Maybe one or two would: she couldn’t help it if they decided they’d made a big mistake. All she could have done was try her best to complete the task for the day without too many disasters.
The quad bike wasn’t quite full. There were still a few empty crates. There was no point leaving them like that and it wouldn’t take long to pick a few more flowers and fill them. Gaby took a swig of cold coffee from her flask, finished off the chocolate bar in her bag and set to again.
Ouch. Even stopping for ten minutes made it hard to get going again, but she wanted at least to fill the crates. Half an hour later she drove the quad bike into the yard, laden with crates. Everyone had gone from the packing shed, so she took the crates into the fridge herself, almost toppling over with the weight of them. Then she went back to the bike.
With a sigh, she looked at the one corner of the field they’d not got round to, still with the flowers in bud at the perfect stage. They seemed to mock her, saying, ‘Pick me, pick me.’
It was five-thirty p.m. and the sun was hovering just above the horizon, the sea silvery in the early evening light. Although she’d been warm from the recent work, she’d been in and out of the fridge and now felt the evening chill. How long would it take, she thought, to finish that corner? How long before the Godrevys got back from the wedding on St Piran’s? It depended on the tides, and even though Will and Jess were perfectly capable of piloting their boat after dark, perhaps they might want to be back before then. That didn’t give her much time if she wanted to finish the job before Will’s return.
Gaby drove the quad to the top of the field and sat looking at the tiny patch in the corner that was bugging the heck out of her. It was like a compulsion: she had to finish the field for Stevie, even though he’d have laughed and told her to go down the pub.
Oh, sod it. She could virtually finish the field, have a lightning-quick shower and still show up at the Gannet. She climbed off the quad, picked up a crate and marched across the field.

Chapter 9 (#ulink_67a7234b-0188-574b-9524-aea3a7a4d17d)
Will and Jess tied up the boat and helped their mother onto the quay. It was around nine-thirty and the full moon had painted everything with a silvery sheen so you felt you could almost walk across its glittering path to the horizon.
Jess had swapped her heels for wellies and put on her waterproofs for the journey home from St Piran’s because the open sea between the islands was choppy. The evening party had ramped up another gear as the Godrevys and a few others had to leave because of the tides, but Jess wasn’t heartbroken to have an excuse to come home.
‘Well, I’m glad that’s over with. I’m knackered,’ said Will, walking beside his mother and Jess.
Anna snorted in derision. ‘Knackered? You’ve been to a wedding. This is your day off.’
‘Didn’t feel like it,’ said Will drily.
‘Well, I think it was a great do, but I’m glad to be back,’ said Jess, trying to smooth things over between Will and her mum. She’d enjoyed catching up with friends and family, but there had also been a lot of awkward questions about Adam. No, she hadn’t heard from him. Yes, he was in Cumbria with his family, as far as she knew. Will had also been interrogated, but not having been in love with Adam, he naturally found any questions easier to fend off.
‘Hmm. The flowers looked great, though I wasn’t sure about that qui-no thing they served with the salmon. What’s wrong with the good old-fashioned potatoes that we all grow in our own backyard? Funny wedding all round, if you ask me. Did you see Cousin Alison’s face when they said the vows? Looked like she’d swallowed a bottle of vinegar, but then she’s always been a sour-faced misery.’
‘I thought Maisie looked amazing,’ Jess cut in before her mum started on the bride’s dress which had been scarlet silk with a train that swept the floor. Jess had loved it, but her mother’s eyebrows had shot right up when the bridal party had entered the church. ‘Pregnancy suits her, even if she is only four months. I think the worst of the morning sickness is over and she looks great.’
‘Yes, she does. I’ll give you that,’ said Anna. ‘I still can’t get over what happened with that Australian though. Fancy lying about his past to us all.’
Anna was clearly referring to Maisie who had looked radiant on the arm of her new partner, Patrick, at the wedding reception. Before the two of them had finally got together, Patrick had kept a major secret from Maisie and when the truth had finally come out, it had caused a lot of trouble. Far from being a penniless barman, Patrick had been unmasked as Hugo Scorrier’s cousin, and was actually the wealthy owner of Petroc Island and resort. He’d had his own reasons for keeping this fact secret but the deception had hurt Maisie badly. However, he now appeared to have been largely forgiven by the community and most importantly, by Maisie. So while their relationship had started on very rocky foundations, they were crazy in love now. It reminded Jess that anything was possible and she could be happy again too …
‘Maisie and Patrick seem very happy now and I can’t wait to meet Little Sprog and be his or her godmother,’ said Jess.
Anna snorted. ‘Fancy naming a baby that.’
‘Oh, Mum. That’s only their nickname for the bump.’
‘I think it goes well with Maisie’s surname – Samson,’ Will piped up randomly. ‘And it’s better than Tarquin or Honey Boo Pie, or whatever the hell people call their kids these days.’

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