Summer Loving Read Free Page B

Fiona didn’t reach for the baby who tucked her head into the curve of Jess’s neck. ‘Did they tell you anything about the project?’

Chapter Three
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    O n Monday afternoon Jess was in her back garden picking raspberries. There were enough for her and Tom tonight and he could take some back for Chris. She would use the last of the strawberries picked yesterday in some shortcake. She also had to make three trays of chocolate brownies for the Over-Sixties lunch on Wednesday. But today was definitely not a day to be baking.
    A bead of sweat tickled as it slid down her temple. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Saturday’s blue skies, sunshine, and gentle breeze off the river had been perfect for the Summer Fair. Yesterday had been cloudy and warm. Today was hot and humid, the sky hazy and bleached of colour.
    Though she loved Cornwall and could not imagine living anywhere else, being surrounded on three sides by sea created high humidity. In the summer months this could be draining.
    Despite her loose shirt, cotton trousers, and straw hat, her skin was damp and her underwear clung uncomfortably. She told herself it could be worse. Last year it had started raining on the day most schools broke up for the summer holidays and continued with barely a break until the week after they went back.
    A short distance beyond the top of Jess’s back garden was the side wall of the chapel. Through arched stained glass windows she could hear the sonorous notes of Bach played by Cissie Cottrell. Cissie might be – was – a terrible gossip but she played beautifully. After the piece ended, she launched into the wedding march. That reminded Jess of her promise to Ben. When the organ fell silent she heard her phone through the open back door.
    By the time she reached the kitchen and placed the basin of raspberries on the worktop, the ringing had stopped. The answerphone light was blinking but there was no message. Jess dialled 1471, jotted down the number then cleared the line and dialled.
    A woman’s voice said, ‘Hello?’
    ‘Hi, this is Jess Trevanion, I believe you rang me? I was in the garden and couldn’t get to the phone in time.’
    ‘That’s some good of you to call back. I was going to try again later.’
    ‘Could I ask who I’m speaking to?’
    ‘Oh, sorry, my bird. Proper flummixed I am. ’Tis Linda Trewearn.’
    Trewearn. The name rang a bell. Then Jess remembered Tegan saying Karen Trewearn had had a little boy that no one had seen.
    ‘How can I help, Mrs Trewearn?’
    ‘Tidn easy to say on the phone.’
    ‘Are you in the village? If you’d like to come to my place, we can talk face-to-face. I’m free from now until half past six.’ Tom was coming for a meal at seven and she wanted to allow time to shower and change.
    ‘Be ’andsome that would.’ Her relief was obvious. ‘My boy and his wife just had a baby and I’m helping out till Karen’s back on her feet. She’ve had some time of it, dear of her. You sure you don’t mind me coming now?’
    ‘No, it’s fine. I’m in the centre of the village. My cottage is one of two behind the pump, the one nearest to the pub.’
    Jess had washed her face, pulled a comb through her hair, and filled the kettle, when there was a knock at the door.
    ‘Mrs Trewearn?’ she smiled at the anxious-looking woman on the stone step. ‘I’m Jess. Do come in. Are you enjoying the weather?’
    Short and plump, Linda Trewearn’s greying brown bob was held back in a clip from a side parting. ‘’Tis nice to see some sunshine after all that rain we had back in the spring. But I don’t like this heat. Got a job to breathe, you have. Still, at least the washing dries quick.’ Her white polo shirt and olive cotton skirt were spotless.
    Jess closed the door. ‘Come and sit down. Do you fancy a cup of tea? Or would you prefer a cold drink?’
    Linda Trewearn perched sideways on the edge of the sofa. ‘I don’t want to put you to no