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Social Justice
Tarquin was so charming and funny that had he been a bit more masculine Lucy would have felt disappointed he was gay. The finest restaurant in the village, down a little side street just past the cricket ground, turned out to be just as he had implied, an up-market fish n’ chips shop which wouldn’t be seen dead doing takeaways. Catering for wealthier older customers, it had a pretty olde worlde charm with candelabras on the walls and pretty alcoves containing Medieval-style tapestries and mounted weapons.
‘They’re shameless round here about exploiting King Arthur,’ Tarquin said, waving at a painting of the legendary king on the wall beside a standing lamp. ‘I mean, there’s no proof he even existed, and if he did, he probably didn’t live in Tintagel. The castle wasn’t e
