Fern Britton - The Great Cornish Getaway

Richard looked up from his coffee. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I like a little adventure in my life. Something to tell the grandchildren. And anyway, you can’t go anywhere until your hair has grown back again.’

Richard was grateful for the friendship of this kind and honest man and began to relax again. So far no one had noticed him, so maybe he could just disappear for a little while longer. ‘I owe you, Kevin,’ he said.

‘You sure bloody do. Fish and chips, clothes shop and this coffee.’

Kevin reached over and swatted Richard with the rolled-up Mirror . ‘I’m joking, you silly sod. What are friends for?’

Richard smiled. ‘You’ve saved my sanity.’

‘Oh, don’t go bleeding soft on me. There are mackerel to catch and pints to be drunk, and they aren’t going to do it by themselves.’

Kevin left some money on the table with a hefty tip to avoid any chat with the waiter and got Richard outside.

‘Have you ever had a pasty?’ he asked.

‘My friends Penny and Simon tried to feed me one once, but I managed to dodge it.’

‘You don’t know what you’ve missed.’

They walked down the narrow cobbled street that led to the harbour, following the smell of onions, warm pastry and butter as they got closer to the Trevay Pasty Shop.

The front window was piled high with pasties of every size and flavour. Vegetarian, curry, lamb and mint, cheese and onion. Kevin pulled Richard in.

‘Two large traditional steak pasties, please,’ he said to the lady behind the counter.

‘Anything else, my love?’ she asked as she expertly slipped them into two paper bags and twisted the ends.

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