Summer on the Little Cornish Isles: The Starfish Studio

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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?

Chapter 7 (#ulink_04609e47-7e1e-571a-81f4-9f6839c7dbe1)

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.