A Secret Cornish Wish

by Ali McNamara

Genres: Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

The brand-new escapist summer romance from bestselling author Ali McNamara. Return to the Cornish shores of St Felix and fall in love . . .

What if one summer could change your life?

For Frankie and her five best friends growing up on the glorious beaches of Cornwall's St Felix, life couldn't get any better. Late one night, the friends discover an old box washed up on the shores and they learn the tale of the St Felix mermaid who grants wishes to those who find her treasure. Even though they know it's just Cornish folkore, the friends decide to make a wish for what they each want out of life - most importantly, they want to always be together . . .

Over the course of the next few decades, as weddings, funerals, birthdays and more bring the friends back together, lost loves, broken promises and buried secrets just as quickly tear them apart. But when they reunite one last time in St Felix, will it be for good? And will their wishes finally be revealed?

Praise for Ali McNamara:
An enchanting escape. Pure magic!' Heidi Swain
'A perfect, sparkling, summer read.' Cathy Bramley
'Fun and endearing' Katie Fforde
'Perfect easy reading' Sun
An irresistible, feel-good story infused with infectious humour' Miranda Dickinson
'Funny and light-hearted' Heat

Release date: July 4, 2024

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 90000

Sample

It never really changes, does it – the sea?

The seasons change, the weather changes; the light that bounces on the waves and makes them look either an invitingly turquoise blue or a bitterly cold grey – that changes. But the sea, with its rhythmical waves washing in over the sand, time and time again – it doesn’t change. It simply remains a constant. You can rely on the sea to do its thing, day after day, year after year, without any fuss or worry. It’s always there – just like it always will be.

Sitting high up on the rocks that overlook the beach and the little Cornish town of St Felix, I gaze out over the sea while I watch the gulls soaring above, and I remember . . .

I remember us all standing together down there on the rocks as the waves splashed below. Six school friends with our whole lives in front of us. We had no idea back then how the world would change over the next thirty-five years, or how we would, too. We were young and full of hope and anticipation at what our futures might bring.

Back in 1989, we’d rush home every day from school to watch Neighbours; Harry had only just met Sally on the big screen, but you could giggle at Baby and Johnny dirty dancing on the small screen if you were lucky enough to have a machine and a local video rental shop; Kylie and Jason, and New Kids on the Block, topped the charts; telephones were something plugged into the wall and computers were something you learnt about once a week at school.

I had no idea back then that I’d be sitting here in St Felix once more when I reached, what seemed to me at the time, the incredibly ancient age of fifty. No idea that my teenage friends would be here with me again – well, most of them would. Sadly, this time, there would be one of us missing.

But on that magical evening, when we stood on the rocks together, we each wished for something different, and we each kept it a secret. All except for the wish we made together: that we’d be friends for ever, no matter what happened in our lives, that we’d keep in touch and try to be together, and, amazingly, all these years later, we’ve managed to do just that.

Unlike the sea, every one of us has changed over the years. We’ve grown older, some of us wiser, but we’ve kept the promise we made to each other.

The promise we’d always be together.

‘No,’ I insist again when Eddie asks the same question he’s asked me at least five times already. ‘It’s not my thing.’

‘Is it any of our things, really?’ Eddie replies, trying to look innocent. ‘But we’re still stepping up.’

I turn around from where I’ve been painting scenery for the dance – a seascape not unlike the one we might see once we return home from school this evening.

‘Yeah, right,’ I say, brandishing my paintbrush at my friend. ‘This is right up your street and you know it!’

‘All right.’ He gives a good-natured shrug. ‘You might be right. I am quite looking forward to performing. But I need three backing singers, or it won’t look right.’

‘I thought you had three already – Claire, Mandy and Suzy?’

‘Suzy’s dropped out.’

‘Why? She’s got a great voice.’

‘I know,’ Eddie says with an anguished expression. ‘I really need her, but she says she’ll embarrass herself.’

‘And the rest of us won’t?’

‘You know what she’s like – always changing her mind at the last minute about everything.’

He was right. Our friend Suzy is quite erratic and prone to second thoughts, which is a shame really, because her mind can be incredibly sharp and focused, especially when it comes to issues she’s passionate about, like the environment.

‘Save me, Obi-Wan Frankie – you’re my only hope!’ Eddie says in a high-pitched voice, as he clasps his hands together in a praying motion.

I’ve known Eddie since our first year at secondary school, when we were put in the same form together. And even though he is a pain sometimes, especially when it comes to things like this, he is also one of my best friends – there’s no way I’m going to let him down.

‘All right, Princess,’ I sigh. ‘I’ll do it. But I want to be hidden at the back, OK?’

‘You’re a dream!’ Eddie hugs me, and I hurriedly hold the paintbrush away from him. ‘Thank you. The choreography wouldn’t have worked with just two.’

‘Wait, you didn’t say anything about choreography!’

‘See you at the harbour at seven tonight,’ Eddie sings as he hurriedly makes his way down the steps from the stage and across the assembly hall. ‘We’re rehearsing on the beach tonight.’

I shake my head as he exits through the door at the back of the hall. It was bad enough being on stage and singing, let alone dancing as well.

I’m about to turn back to the scenery and finish up my artwork for tonight, when a girl carrying a violin case enters the hall, followed by a group of other boys and girls all carrying various musical instruments, some of them in cases, some of them not.

‘Don’t let us stop you, Frankie!’ Jenny, one of my classmates, calls, as she lifts a chair from where they’re stacked at the side of the hall. ‘We’re just going to rehearse for a while.’

‘No worries,’ I reply, about to turn back and finish off my waves – one of the parts of my scenery I’m most proud of – when I notice Robert Matthews enter the room behind the others. He’s carrying a guitar case and he looks a little lost.

‘Over here, Rob!’ Jenny gestures to a chair she’s just laid out. ‘I’ve saved you a place.’

Robert, looking a tad embarrassed, nods and heads over towards Jenny. He glances up at me standing on the stage staring down at him.

‘Hi,’ he says with a half-smile. ‘Nice waves.’

‘Th . . . thanks,’ I reply, for some reason waving my brush at him so a little of the blue paint flicks down onto my face. I hurriedly wipe it away with the back of my hand, and I know it will have left a smear on my now flushed cheeks, so I hurriedly turn back towards the huge backdrop I’ve been working so hard on this week and try to remember what I’m supposed to be doing. But for some reason I’ve not only forgotten what I’m working on, but how to paint too.

I pretend to be mixing some paint while I gather myself.

Robert Matthews has just spoken to me! Not only that, but he also noticed my artwork – he said, ‘Nice waves.’

Ever since Robert came to our school as a new pupil at the beginning of this term, my heart has felt like it’s going to burst out of my chest every time I see him. Either that or my stomach begins doing all sorts of complex gymnastics whenever he’s near.

It’s so embarrassing that my body decides to behave this way around a boy. I spent most of my fifteen years on this planet detesting them, but he’s the first one to make me feel this out of control – it is very annoying.

But Robert is different to all the other boys at school – his short sandy hair is soft and shiny-looking. He has the most amazing pair of dark-brown eyes – and the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a boy, or a girl for that matter. He’s sort of quiet, but not too quiet. He’s smart – I know this because he’s in a lot of the same classes as me – but he’s not a swot.

He fitted in right away, and the other boys appeared to accept him into their groups with very little resistance. I was quite jealous – I’ve spent my whole time at this school trying to fit in, trying to find my place in the right crowd, and Robert seemingly managed to do it within a few days.

I’m not the only girl to notice his presence, of course. There are often a lot of dreamy looks and overly long gazes when he’s around, followed by much giggling. Robert quickly became the best-looking boy in our school by a long shot, and it didn’t come as any surprise that a lot of other people seemed to think so too.

Finally, my hand remembers how to paint again and, while the musicians practise their pieces for the show behind me, I continue working on the set.

The ‘Enchantment Under the Sea’ dance that I’m painting a backdrop for is to be our school’s official leavers’ event this year. At fifteen, me and my friends won’t be leaving school until next year, but the tradition is that we, as the year below, are allowed to attend as a sort of transition to becoming the oldest in the school. But to earn our place, we provide the evening’s entertainment.

The theme was a popular choice, after the success of Back to The Future a few years ago, where there was a school dance of the same name. All sorts of committees were formed to organise the event, and I found myself volunteering to paint the backdrop for the evening – this year, a talent show of sorts, where all the acts had to have a sea theme to gain entry.

I love to paint and draw, and to be allowed to create something on a large scale such as this is very exciting. I am probably just as excited about creating my backdrop as most of the other girls are about creating their outfits for the evening.

I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy, happier in trainers, jeans and a baggy sweatshirt than a pair of fancy shoes and a dress. But even I’m making an effort for the dance – that’s if I haven’t first been laughed off the stage for my singing, and now it seems my dancing ability too.

The musicians practise for about an hour behind me, while I carry on with my painting. I try not to make it too obvious that I keep sneaking the occasional glance in Robert’s direction. I make sure I only do it when I load my paintbrush up with more paint or change the colour on my pallet.

Eventually, as I’m just about to finish up for the afternoon, the musicians decide to call it a day too. As chairs are replaced and instruments packed up below me, I do the same on the stage with my art equipment.

After gathering all my dirty brushes in a pot, so I can wash them in the sinks in the girls’ toilets afterwards, I jump as I realise Robert is now up on the stage behind me. He’s holding his guitar case in one hand, while he admires my backdrop.

‘It’s very good,’ he says, not looking at me but at the sea in front of him. ‘Did you do all this yourself?’

‘Yes.’ I’m trying desperately to stop myself – and my voice – from shaking. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘I wish I could paint, but I’m pretty rubbish at it.’

‘I’m sure you’re not.’

‘Frankie, we’re in the same art class. You must have seen how awful my work is. Miss Simpson never offers to hang any of my paintings on the school walls, does she? Whereas they’re covered in your work.’

I’m not sure if I’m more shocked he knows my name, or that he’s noticed my artwork displayed around the school.

He turns to me and smiles, and I almost pass out on the spot.

‘Right . . . ’ he says when I don’t speak. ‘I guess I’d better let you get on.’

‘No!’ I cry suddenly. ‘I mean . . . I’ve finished now . . . a . . . a bit like you have. With your rehearsal.’ I wave my hand in the direction the musicians were a few minutes ago. ‘You sounded good.’ I’m desperate for him not to leave now he’s actually here talking to me. ‘Are you entering the talent show?’

‘Couldn’t you tell by the songs we were practising? They were all sea-based.’

‘Oh . . . oh, yes, of course they were. I wasn’t really thinking about it to be honest. I was just enjoying the tunes while I painted.’

‘Great, then we can’t have been too bad.’ He grins, and I hurriedly smile back at him.

‘I didn’t know you played the guitar,’ I say, keen to keep this conversation going. I’ve dreamed about the day this might happen. I didn’t quite envision standing here in my dungarees, covered in acrylic paint when it did, but I don’t care about that now, only that it is actually happening.

‘Yeah, I took lessons at my last school. I haven’t bothered with them since I came here, but when Jenny and the others found out I played, they asked me to join their group for the show.

I bet they did! Jenny has had her eye on Robert since he arrived.

‘Are you doing anything? Anything apart from painting brilliant backdrops, that is?’

‘Thanks,’ I reply shyly. ‘Er, I’ve sort of been roped into singing with my friend, Eddie, and some other girls.’

‘You sing?’ Robert looks surprised.

‘No, but someone dropped out, so I said I’d help. I’m sure it will be a disaster though.’

‘You can’t be good at everything.’ Robert glances at the seascape next to us again. ‘I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals and stuff this week, then?’

‘Yes, yes, you will. I’ll be there!’ I triumphantly punch the air in front of me, and then immediately regret it.

Robert stares at my fist still hanging in mid-air. Hurriedly I pull it back down to my side.

‘See ya then, Frankie,’ he says, grinning, probably at my ridiculous behaviour.

‘Yes, see ya, Robert,’ I murmur, knowing my cheeks are likely giving my embarrassment away for me.

‘Rob,’ he says. ‘My mates call me Rob.’

‘Rob it is, then,’ I say, trying desperately to be cool, but failing miserably as usual.

Rob simply nods and makes his way quickly down the steps and through the school hall, while I stand on the stage, covered in paint, quietly dying inside.

And that Monday was the first time I ever spoke to Rob.

‘Two, three, four and . . . Frankie, why haven’t you moved?’

‘Sorry,’ I say for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. ‘I told you I wasn’t good at this kind of thing.’

Eddie looks at me with a mixture of frustration and pity. ‘Why don’t you sit this one out and watch the others?’ he suggests. ‘Maybe it will help if you see what you’re supposed to be doing.’

‘Sure.’ I shrug, happy for any excuse to stop this torture.

We’ve been rehearsing down on Morvoren Cove, one of the quieter beaches in St Felix. We’ve tucked ourselves in among some large rocks for a little privacy, and we’ve been going over and over Eddie’s planned routine for our spot in the Enchantment Under the Sea talent show.

It’s all right for Eddie and Mandy; they are natural performers – neither of them ever one to shy away from the spotlight when it’s on them. My other friend, Claire, is naturally quiet and shy, so I was surprised to hear she was going to be a part of the performance. But Eddie can be very persuasive, and I have no doubt he’s sweet-talked her into this somehow.

Sitting cross-legged on the sand, I watch them move around in front of me to a track I’m already sick of hearing played over and over again on Mandy’s portable cassette player, and I can’t help but smile at their very different ways of performing.

Eddie is the life and soul as always; his moves and gestures are pronounced and over the top – just like he is.

Mandy somehow manages to make Eddie’s choreography look feline and sexy as she moves her curvy figure around and bats her long black eyelashes.

And Claire – well, she’s just Claire. As always, trying her absolute best, but somehow always managing to scuttle around in the background like a little mouse.

‘Yes!’ Eddie claps his hands triumphantly when they complete the routine reasonably successfully without me. ‘That’s it – we’ve nearly got it!’

‘Have we, though?’ Mandy asks, throwing herself down on the sand beside me. She opens a can of Fanta and takes a long slurp. ‘It still seems pretty sloppy to me.’

Claire also sits down beside us. She too opens a can, but she sips delicately from it while she neatly arranges her legs underneath her.

‘It’s only sloppy when I’m involved,’ I reply, smiling. ‘Without me it’s ten times better.’

‘Oh, no!’ Eddie fiddles with the cassette player again, no doubt rewinding it ready to play yet another rendition of the Beach Boys’ ‘Surfin’ USA’. ‘You’re not getting out of it that easily, Frankie. You’ll pick it up eventually.’

I look desperately at the others for help while Eddie is turned away.

They just grin back at me.

‘If we have to do it, you do too!’ Mandy whispers. ‘What I wanna know is how Suzy managed to get out of it so easily.’

‘Claire?’ I whisper, and I clasp my hands together as though I’m praying. ‘Help me – you know I have two left feet when it comes to dancing.’

Claire thinks for a moment, then she nods. ‘You know, Eddie,’ she says suddenly, making us all jump. Claire is always quiet and rarely speaks up unless she has to. ‘I was wondering about something.’

‘Yep?’ Eddie is still trying to set up the track.

‘If we’re supposed to be dressed as mermaids on stage, then how are we actually going to be able to dance?’

‘What do you mean?’ Eddie asks, turning around.

‘Well . . . mermaids have tails, don’t they, not legs. How can we dance if our legs are hidden in a fishtail?’

Yes, Claire! I think euphorically. Brilliant!

Eddie’s face suggests he hasn’t considered this small, but important, fact.

Claire continues. ‘What about if we sat on a wall or something and just sort of swayed in time with the music – would that work? It would be a lot easier for all of us.’

I’m grateful she hasn’t said, ‘Easier for Frankie.’

‘Yeah, Eddie,’ Mandy joins in. She jumps up and goes over to him. ‘I mean, we all know you are the star of the show, aren’t you?’ She puts an arm around his shoulders and then gestures as though they can see a mock-up of the stage in front of them. ‘We’re just there to make up the numbers – and of course look totally and utterly lip-smackingly gorgeous! Couldn’t we be perched on some sort of rock or a shell or something?’ She encourages us to put this into practice now on the nearby rocks.

Claire and I hurry over to the nearest one and begin to arrange ourselves on top with our legs pressed together as though we have long mermaid tails.

‘I’m sure our budding Picasso over there could whip something up for the stage, couldn’t you?’ Mandy asks, looking at me.

‘Oh, yes, I could paint a large shell or a rock – whatever you like,’ I hurriedly say, suddenly envisioning a much less embarrassing time for myself on the stage.

Mandy lets go of Eddie and joins us on the rock, then we begin to make up some impromptu moves by swaying our hands to and fro like a hula dancer describing the sea.

Eddie watches us.

‘It might work, I suppose . . . ’ he says a little reluctantly. ‘I still get to be a surfer dude, though, don’t I?’

‘Of course,’ I tell him keenly. ‘You’re the main man, Eddie. You will be . . . ’ I try to think fast. ‘The Jason Donovan to our Kylie Min . . . No, wait, our Kylie Mer . . . maid.’ I thank my brain for coming up with this analogy so fast. One which I know Eddie will appreciate.

Eddie nods, clearly enjoying this thought. ‘All right, let’s try it with the music.’ He goes back to the cassette player to press play.

I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, guys,’ I say quietly. ‘You’ve saved me.’

‘I think we’ve all saved ourselves from a lot of embarrassment,’ Claire whispers. ‘But most importantly we managed to do it and not let Eddie down.’

‘We’ll be the best mermaids St Felix has ever seen!’ I say as the intro of the song begins to float once more over the sand.

‘And the best-looking too!’ Mandy says, as always full of the confidence that both Claire and I lack in our own appearance. ‘The boys won’t know what hit them!’

*

A few days later, our rehearsals are going much more successfully.

While Eddie struts his stuff around the front of whatever our makeshift stage is that day, Claire, Mandy and I sit at the back on whatever we can find to be our rock. We work out our own choreography to fit in with Eddie’s, and although I’m still not overly happy about being on the stage dressed as a mermaid, I’m a lot happier now I don’t have to dance dressed as one.

Suzy, we find out, in exchange for not performing with us, has offered to help Eddie make our costumes. Which I don’t actually mind, because I hate using a sewing machine even more than choreographed dancing.

It’s a weekend in St Felix, and it’s even busier than usual as I take my lunch break from the florist I work in every Saturday, and sometimes after school.

The shop, appropriately named the Daisy Chain, is run by a lovely lady called Rose, and I enjoy working there with her. Rose makes up all the bouquets; I just help behind the counter selling flowers and taking orders, but it’s fun, and it gives me a bit of extra money.

I treat myself to a pasty from Mr Bumbles, the baker’s a few doors down, and head off to look for somewhere quiet and preferably shady to sit and eat. But everywhere is heaving with people – they are either milling around along Harbour Street, where the bakery and flower shop are, or sitting in the sunshine along the harbour front watching the boats and doing what I’m trying to do – sit and eat my lunch.

But the benefit of being a local is you know all the quiet, and often hidden, places to sit. I head up and across the town, through the streets of old fishermen’s cottages to a grassy hill that overlooks one of the many beaches St Felix has to offer. But instead of trying to find a free wooden bench, I head up over the grass to a set of steep steps, cut into the rocky headland, that lead down to the beach.

Halfway down the steps, I climb back onto the surrounding grass and make my way carefully across the tufts towards a natural little shelf worn into the rocks, which I’m overjoyed to find is empty. It’s slightly hidden from view and gives me not only a shady place to eat my lunch, but also an uninterrupted view of the sea. I make myself comfortable on a large flat rock that’s been worn smooth over the years – probably decades – by the many people sitting right where I am now, looking out to sea, and I sigh happily.

Peace at last.

I’ve always liked my own company. Unlike a lot of people my age who seem to crave being in a crowd or a gang, I’m not afraid to be alone – in fact, I really enjoy it. It gives me a chance to think, work things out in my head, and simply breathe.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, but none of us ever set out to become a part of the tight-knit group we are now. We were all drawn to each other randomly, simply because none of us are what is considered a ‘normal’ teenager.

There’s Eddie – the only male of the group – who is what my mother politely calls ‘a little eccentric’, or ‘full of life’, or ‘a flamboyant young man’, depending on her mood. What she doesn’t ever call him is what he actually is: gay.

Eddie was teased a lot at school when he first came here to St Felix. He got called names because he was different from the other boys and didn’t want to do the kind of things they did. Where most of the boys want to kick a ball around after school or hang out in gangs trying to look cool, Eddie is most likely to be found hiring an old musical from the video-rental shop or practising his latest dance moves. Boys occasionally try to bully him because they think he won’t attempt to defend himself, but they’re always in for a shock. Eddie’s older brother, James, is a highly skilled boxer, who’s been tipped to go to the Olympics, and, before he left St Felix to go and train in Ireland, he taught Eddie how to defend himself. I witnessed many a boy, much bigger than Eddie, scuttle away with a bloody nose or arrive in school the next day with a black eye after trying to pick on him. And because Eddie is Eddie, none of them want to admit that he got the better of them.

Then there’s Mandy, the oldest of our group by a few months. Mandy has a reputation for being easy. This makes me really cross, because she isn’t at all. But Mandy never seems that bothered by it. She’s confident and brash, and she doesn’t care who knows it. Mandy likes attention from boys, and she wears clothes and make-up that only encourages their attention. But underneath all her short skirts, jewellery, eyeliner and mascara, Mandy has a heart of gold, she’s deeply loyal and there’s nothing she won’t do for her friends.

Suzy is probably the smartest and most virtuous of all of us. She’s incredibly ethical and all about saving the planet. If there’s a campaign, you can be sure Suzy is a part of it. She was all over Band Aid a few years ago, raising money to help those poor starving children in Ethiopia, and she’s a huge campaigner for both animal rights and the environment. Heaven help you if Suzy sees you miss the bin when you throw a can or a ball of paper towards it. You will be picking up that litter moments later – have no doubt about that.

Suzy isn’t a misfit as such, she’s just a little different and painfully shy. When most girls our age are worrying about their hair or the colour of their nail polish, Suzy is worrying about something called global warming, and she’s recently been banging on about some sort of hole in the ozone layer. I’m not really sure what that is, but Suzy seems quite concerned about it.

Oh, and her other issue – well, it seems to be an issue for some, not us – is she comes from a mixed-race family. Her mum is white and her dad is black. Probably quite common if you live in a big city, but down here on the tip of Cornwall it’s fairly unusual, making Suzy different, and, at our age, different is too often seen as bad.

Claire I’ve known since we were at primary school and, before that, playgroup together. According to our parents, both of us were quiet toddlers, so I guess we must have bonded over our love of keeping within the lines when colouring with our crayons or something like that. Claire isn’t really different, she’s just quiet, and not everyone gets quiet people, do they?

And then there’s me – Frankie. I like my own company, but I’m not quiet like Claire – I speak up if I need to. I don’t like wearing dresses or skirts or anything girly, and I get called a tomboy by those same people that call Eddie, Mandy and Suzy names I choose not to repeat. I’m happiest when I have a paintbrush or a pencil in one hand and a sketchbook in the other. I don’t think I’m really all that different – I’m just me.

But our differences are what brought us together, and, although we rarely tell each other, I know we are all secretly very glad they did.

My pasty, as it always is when it’s bought from Mr Bumbles’, is delicious. I brush the crumbs from my lap, hoping one of the little birds that flit around St Felix looking for scraps manages to get to them when I’ve left, before the huge seagulls that rule the roost around the harbour find them.

I open a can of Diet Pepsi and watch the waves rhythmically rolling onto the sand of Morvoren Cove below while I drink. Little kids try to jump over the white spray, squealing with delight when they don’t succeed and the cold seawater splashes up their little legs.

I can already see several pink-looking bodies, where sun worshippers haven’t used a strong enough sun cream, and a few dogs run about the beach happily chasing balls and frisbees.

I look past them further out to sea and note the differing hues today – turquoises and mint-greens vie for prominence over the usual navy blues and purples. All encouraged by the strong sunshine cascading down onto the waves.

Just as I’m feeling almost hypnotised by the waves, something catches the corner of my eye, making me jump – a splash of salt spray in the water, breaking up the perfect rhythm.

What was that – a fish jumping in the waves?

No, it was too big to be a fish’s tail – must have been a dolphin. We often get schools of dolphins around the St Felix coastline.

It happens again, and for . . .