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‘You chose the perfect cake, picked me out a much better maid of honour dress and now you’ve chosen the ideal flower arrangements. You should change career, you’re a natural wedding planner.’
‘God, no thanks,’ he said with an eye-roll. ‘I’m glad you like the flowers, though.’
‘Have you always been good at picking out stuff?’
‘No idea.’ He approached a junction, pausing while he negotiated the traffic. ‘Maybe it was living in a house with two women. Not that my sister ever liked anything particularly girlie, but my mum does.’
‘You always dress very nicely.’
‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘Not in the slightest.’ She thought how nice he looked in his green T-shirt with a motorbike on the front. ‘You always look… comfortable.’
‘Is that a compliment?’
‘As someone who’s never comfortable, it’s an enviable quality.’ She turned to study the views outside, watching as the landscape switched from village to rural.
A few moments later, he said, ‘Do you own anything comfortable?’
She thought about it. ‘Pyjamas. A onesie my sister bought me for Christmas. Oh, and fluffy socks. I get cold feet in bed.’
He glanced at her. ‘That’s it?’
‘I find shopping stressful. I become agitated and uptight, which equates to me buying more suits.’
He grinned. ‘How many suits do you own?’
‘My wardrobe looks like an M&S clothing rail.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll introduce you to my sister, maybe you can swap clothes. Her wardrobe is full of sportswear. Mind you, she’s a PE teacher, so I guess it’s inevitable.’ He pointed ahead. ‘We’re here.’
Beth strained to see out of the window. The Jamaica Inn was situated on a grassy mound in the middle of Bodmin Moor. No built-up housing or shopping precincts to spoil the views, just a backdrop of rolling fields merging into the distant skyline.
‘This is rather lovely,’ she said, relieved that her choice of venue wasn’t a total disaster.
‘Wait until you see inside.’ He parked up in the gravel car park.
Climbing out of the car, Beth inhaled deeply, enjoying the tickle in her nose. Her headache had eased, thankfully, and she was able to enjoy her surroundings.
The two-storey building ahead was made from grey stone and designed to look like a period inn from centuries past. The large Jamaica Inn sign swinging from a wooden post depicted a pirate, complete with eyepatch and tricorn hat.
Matt appeared with her suitcase. ‘I thought we could have an early dinner and head over to the barn to watch The Smugglers afterwards.’
‘The who?’
‘A local acoustic band. They play covers, feel-good rock and pop, according to their flyer. They also happen to be available on the ninth of June. I know you weren’t keen on a disco, so I thought this might add a bit of variety to the evening instead. What do you think?’
‘I’m happy to check them out, assuming I stay awake that long.’ She watched him stifle a yawn. ‘You, too. Busy shift last night?’ She didn’t know much about his job, other than the fact he was a firefighter.
‘It was a strange one,’ he said, stretching out his back. ‘Two hours trying to remove a terrier who’d got himself stuck in an iron gate, and then a horrible incident involving a kid trapped under a goalpost. The bar was lying across his neck, restricting his airway.’
‘Oh my god, was he okay?’
‘He wasn’t badly injured, just very shaken.’
‘Understandably.’ Beth rubbed her neck, unnerved by the image of a child nearly choking.
‘When the hospital gave him the all-clear, we took him for a ride in the fire truck to cheer him up.’
