‘Do you also like yoga? And random acts of kindness?’ Ivy asked, wondering if Josie was right and the siblings were more similar than she’d thought. ‘And dogs?’
Brooke snorted. ‘If you’re asking if me and Trip are alike, in case you haven’t guessed, the answer is no,’ she said. ‘We’re about as different as you could be to a blood relation. He’s like the yang to my yin. Case in point? I hate yoga. I spend the whole class thinking about the things I have to do after it’s over and wishing I was doing them instead. I hate dogs – the slobber. And as for random acts of kindness …’ Her voice softened. ‘My brother is too nice for his own good.’
Just then Trip himself arrived with damp hair and a paper bag of pastries. ‘Did you guys know there’s an old lighthouse along the cliff path and over the bay?’ he said. ‘And also, it’sreallyraining out.’
‘Nope,’ said Brooke, pulling out her phone and scrollingthrough her notes app. She absently held out a hand and her brother put a coffee cup into it. ‘A lighthouse isnoton my list of local Cornish attractions.’ She looked up at Ivy accusingly. ‘Do you know about this lighthouse?’
‘Of course I know about it,’ Ivy said, biting into her own croissant and wondering why Brooke cared so much. ‘It’s not in any of the travel stuff though – it’s a secret. Fox Bay has a few of those. Secret sights that only the locals know.’
‘Interesting,’ said Brooke thoughtfully. ‘Secret sights.’
‘It sounds amazing,’ Trip said. ‘We should check it out, Brooke. It’s all boarded up. Old Bill says it’s haunted.’
‘Of course he does,’ said Ivy, grinning. ‘Bill never lets the truth get in the way of a good story. And a trusting American is an easy target …’
‘Apparently,’ Trip went on, ‘the ghost of the old lighthouse keeper appears at the window when the moon goes behind a cloud and a beam shines out to sea. Even whenno light should be on.’
‘Sounds dangerous to me,’ said Ivy, chewing. ‘Someone should warn the Coastguard.’
Brooke took a swig of coffee and made a noise of irritation. ‘The lighthouse isn’t onanyof those stupid “Hidden Cornwall” websites I’ve been using.’
Ivy finished her breakfast, wiped her fingers and picked up the box marked ‘Winter Wonderland Window Display’. Josie had asked her to tackle it that weekend – although, once she picked off the lashings of yellowing Sellotape, she realised it mostly seemed to consist of a tangle of fairy lights.
She was wrestling with them – and fending off Trip’s offers of help, while Brooke told them to pipe down – when the shop bell chimed and Mr Hargreaves appeared in his usual scuffed shoes and slightly-too-short trousers, rain clinging to his jacket sleeves. His hair puffed out in little white wisps and he looked exhausted-yet-wildly hopeful – his default expression, as Ivy remembered well from countless assemblies in which he had urged them to take up a new cause.
His face lit up when he saw Ivy and she let out a mental groan. Wasn’t it enough that she was on the WhatsApp group? Did he have to come to her place of work too?
‘Ah, Ivy! There you are!’ he said, as his glasses fogged up. ‘You haven’t been responding on WhatsApp.’
‘Where else would I be?’ she couldn’t resist saying. ‘I work here. And, um, I think my phone is broken.’
‘I wanted to make sure you’re coming to the meeting tomorrow night – Mr Patterson has some questions for you. I’ve got a wonderful feeling about this show,’ he said. ‘Cornish culture across the ages. Where the mythical meets the modern.’
‘Sounds ambitious,’ drawled Brooke. ‘This is a kids’ show, right?’
Mr Hargreaves beamed. ‘Itisambitious. As all the best creative endeavours should be.’
‘So why does Mr Patterson need to talk tome?’ Ivy asked suspiciously. ‘I’m props only.’
‘It’s something to do with a new pagan ritual set piece.’
Ivy stared. ‘A pagan ritual? In a children’s show?’
Brooke cackled. ‘Oh, I’mdefinitelycoming to this.’
‘It’s very bold,’ Mr Hargreaves said, nodding earnestly. ‘But between us, I’m not entirely sure everyone will be on board. Mr Trenwith – do you know him? Always wearing the cargo trousers? He’s already threatening to pull his twins out unless we stick to something more traditional and he’s very influential on the PTA. Anyway, I’m sure we can come to a compromise. Can I leave the stone circle to you?’ He beamed at her. ‘I’ve always valued your vision, Ivy.’
Ivy glared at him. ‘You gave me an F in History. When I wasnine.’
‘Well. Yes.’ He smiled again, sheepishly. ‘I should have realised that you’re a creative spirit Ivy and you couldn’t be pinned down by facts and dates. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m relying on you!’
Mr Hargreaves bustled out again, taking with him the smell of wet wool. Trip, who had been leafing through a cookbook so quietly that Ivy had forgotten him, said, ‘Pagan rites? Sounds interesting.’
‘It sounds wild,’ said Brooke. Her phone pinged and she glanced at it. ‘For god’s sake,’ she muttered. ‘I sent the projections lastweek.’
‘I thought you were here for a holiday?’ said Ivy suspiciously.
‘I just have to pick up the occasional email,’ Brooke said. ‘Who was that guy?’
