Book Blurb
Recovering agoraphobic, Tom Maynard, runs a converted Cornish tin mine in Sennen Cove as a rural retreat for the rich and famous. Melanie Taylor runs a successful London hotel, and wants to buy shares in the property he developed in his late wife's memory, but he refuses her offer. Sensing a connection between the pair, his daughter, Amy, sets them up on a blind date. But while together in London, during a storm, Amy goes missing. As they battle the elements to save her, they must decide if the distance between them is also worth fighting.
Book Extract
Stepping from the train a cold breeze swirled around the platform and caught Tom’s breath, sending a plume of steam spiralling into the eaves of the arched roof. A cursory glance over his shoulder saw Kelly barging disgruntled passengers out of the way as she followed behind. Yanking her suitcase through the door, it bounced down the steps and leaped over the gap between train and platform as she repeatedly cursed its cumbersome inconvenience.
Scanning the platform, he noticed a tall grey-haired man in aviator glasses and a blue ski jacket fastened all the way to the chin, leaning against the wall. The man stepped towards Kelly and with no protestations relieved her of the suitcase. Together they dashed from the chilly platform, through the exit and to a waiting car.
‘I’m pleased that’s over,’ Tom declared, sighing as he tossed his small case into the open boot of the Range Rover.
‘Long trip?’ Tom’s father-in-law, asked.
‘It’s always a long trip leaving Cornwall, Al. I hate it. I feel like I’ve landed on a different planet whenever I go somewhere big like London. Great monstrosities hogging the skyline, enough smog that stops just short of suffocating you and people who’d stare at the slabs of concrete as they walk past rather than bid you good morning. Give me the natural smell of the ocean and a stranger you spend an hour talking to, even when you know you should be doing something else, any day.’
Al countered. ‘Tom, my lad, I’ve lived in both, and each is fantastic for different reasons. For me, Cornwall is the place for retirement. However, I must admit, I thrived on the hustle and bustle of the big smoke’s working lifestyle. Socially it was epic, and of course it meant I could finance the lifestyle my family deserved. Luckily though, I managed to balance my life so I was able to enjoy it fully without the family suffering.’
‘I don’t think I could live anywhere other than here.’
Alan waved a finger across the roof of the car. ‘That’s because you don’t know any different.’
Tom shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Looks like you had fun. Sunglasses in the middle of February – big give away,’ he laughed, looking over the top of his reading glasses in mock disapproval at Kelly.
‘She’s been rather subdued all the way home. Let’s just say she made the most of the free hospitality.’ Tom slid into the front seat of the Range Rover and closed the door to keep out the bitter breeze.
‘Always a great idea at the time,’ Alan agreed, switching on the ignition. ‘Cora and I are pleased you decided to go, you needed it, and more importantly you deserved it for everything you’ve worked to achieve. By the way, did you find out who nominated you?’
‘I couldn’t have done it without all your help. You, Cora, Kelly and especially Amy. It’s been a bumpy ride, but we’ve got there. Thank you. And no, I still don’t know who nominated Wheal Neft.’
‘Nothing to thank us for lad. Sometimes, people need a little help. Those people are worth investing in. Never forget that,’ Alan said. ‘Besides, retirement’s overrated and boring. There’s only so many rounds of golf I can play in a week.’
‘You couldn’t give up the golf. Cape Cornwall Golf Club would sink into oblivion if you left. Who else would do their books in return for free green fees?’
‘They’d find someone. Their financial stability is high. They could run at a heavy loss for a year and still wouldn’t be close to filing for bankruptcy. Besides, it keeps the mind functioning,’ he said, pointing to his temple with a chunky finger. ‘Especially as the body’s less willing these days.’
‘You do just fine. There aren’t many other seventy-year-olds who do what you do.’
‘Alright, ease off with the reminder I’m in my twilight years,’ Alan said, his cheeks flushing.
Tom smiled as he shifted to look in the backseat at Kelly, whose head was slumped against the rear window. Her sunglasses concealed not only her eyes, but her eyebrows and the tops of her cheeks. Together, with her pouting lips, she somehow reminded Tom of a lazy autumn fly. He assumed Kelly’s eyes were closed as she still travelled the hangover road to recovery.
Twenty minutes later, the headlights illuminated the sign welcoming them to Sennen Cove, a small coastal village almost at the very tip of the country where the rugged shore and the rough seas forever clash. Alan swung the Range Rover right at the roundabout, dropped a short distance down a hill before forking left along a narrow road and cruised past several clifftop homes. As the staggered houses overlooking the Atlantic Ocean ended, the smooth tarmac fell away into nothing more than a rural mud track pitted with potholes and bordered by overgrown hedgerows. An eager moon lit the track like a torch as they pulled into the gravel parking area of Wheal Neft Hotel. In the daylight, few trees could be seen lining the rugged cliff tops, instead ancient hand-built stone walls and evergreen gorse bushes created seasonal mosaics of ever-changing perceptions. Only a well-trodden path that twisted and wound its way along the steep climbs and deep gulley’s of the coast like a brown scar, parted the vegetation. Isolated buildings and abandoned mines whose roofs had been ripped away by the claws of the ruthless Cornish weather displayed evidence of a culture long since devoured by the rise of industrialisation and cheaper productivity in far-away lands. Now, nothing more than downtrodden tombstones of those who once gave their lives in the production of Cornwall’s biggest export, Tin. Despite its perilous history and bleak surroundings, Sennen Cove harboured a feeling of warmth and comfort all year round. A single vein of road twisted and bent its way to the bottom of the hill, to where a small fleet of fishing boats lay moored against a harbour that poked into the choppy waves. A handful of seasonal shops had hunkered down for the winter with boards covering their windows and sandbags at the foot of their doors. Others still displayed nostalgic pictures of appetising ice creams in their windows as if urging summer to arrive with more haste.
Tom leaned towards the windscreen admiring how the lights from the rooms seemed to welcome him home under a motherly eye as they cast ghostly yellow shadows across the carpark.
Author Bio
Adrian lives in Cornwall with his wife and four children. He has a Bachelor’s degree in English with Creative Writing and a Master’s degree in Professional writing, both received from Falmouth University. Adrian grew up in Cornwall, only spending seven years away while serving in the British army. The inspiration for his writing is drawn from the landscape of the magical county – from the desolate moors to the rugged coastline.
Adrian didn’t discover the real joy of reading until his late teenage years, devouring such authors as Andy McNab and Dean Koontz. Writing came later while on active service overseas, starting with bad poetry before turning his hand to the novel. Originally published in horror, Adrian accidentally discovered his enjoyment of writing romantic fiction while at university, and subsequently enrolled on the Romantic Novelists Association’s New Writer’s Scheme – an affiliation he would recommend to any new writer.
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