Phillipa Ashley - Summer on the Little Cornish Isles - The Starfish Studio

He found an old-fashioned bar of soap and a towel and smiled as he made up the ‘emergency kit’ for Poppy, thinking it was a shame there was nothing he could do about her missing knickers. As a final thought, he went to fetch a clean T-shirt from his overnight bag to add to the kit. She could use it as pyjamas or wear it tomorrow as she saw fit.

After today, he decided to keep his distance unless she asked for him. She certainly didn’t need a bloke hanging about, let alone one who’d shown her an ailing business and a shabby flat with collapsing furniture. While he’d been embarrassed to show her around the Starfish, he hadn’t been embarrassed by the sadness she was obviously trying to hide. The loss of Harriet, though horrendous, had made him far more compassionate towards other people’s emotions. He admired Poppy for sticking to her guns and deciding to pursue her plans without her partner. That took a lot of guts.

When he came back into the cottage sitting room with the T-shirt, Leo was lounging on the bundle of bedding, washing his paws.

‘Oi, Leo. Get off!’

Leo flexed his claws as if he was admiring his manicure.

Jake clapped his hands loudly, hoping Leo would shift without him having to intervene. ‘Poppy might be allergic to cats and she won’t want her sheets covered in fur. She’s had enough trauma today without you adding to it,’ he said before realising that he was actually trying to debate with a cat.

Ignoring him, Leo lifted his hind leg and decided to give himself a more thorough bath.

‘Urgh. Do you mind doing that in the privacy of your own home? Or Fen’s? Come on, shoo.’ He dashed forward, ready to scoop Leo off the bedding, but the cat dropped deftly to his paws before Jake reached him and strolled off towards the open door, tail in the air.

After Leo’s departure, Jake realised that Poppy might need a toothbrush, so he went back up to his room and dug out an unused travel toothbrush and toothpaste from the bottom of his washbag. Before he left the room, he couldn’t help glancing at the crate again. It was like Pandora’s box: begging to be opened so he could discover its secrets. Yet if he opened it, would he regret what he’d unleashed?

A warm and furry presence wound its way around Poppy’s legs as she stood in the doorway to Jake’s – or rather Archie’s – cottage.

‘Oh! What a gorgeous cat! He’s huge . Is he yours?’ She rubbed the top of Leo’s head, feeling the thick fur between his ears.

‘No, he belongs to Fen and Archie. Or rather they belong to him,’ said Jake, eyeing Leo warily. ‘He switches between their two cottages, depending on who has the tastiest morsels, I guess, but at the moment, he prefers Fen’s, obviously, because my grandpa’s away.’

Leo purred and let Poppy carry on stroking him.

‘Wow. You’re highly honoured. He won’t let me do that. We’re not the greatest of pals, though I’ve known him from a kitten, but I haven’t seen much of him lately. Fen adores him and my grandad even let him into the studio. I think he was a stray.’

‘Well, he’s adorable. He must be the biggest cat I’ve ever seen.’

‘Hmm. Personally, I think he’s half sabre-toothed tiger. His teeth and claws are sharp enough. Come in.’

Once inside, Poppy homed in on a plate of mashed potato and prawns on the coffee table. Tempting aromas wafted under her nose and her stomach rumbled. She was reminded that she hadn’t eaten since her tea shop lunch.

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