by Karen King
‘So, you and your dad are getting on now, then?’
Hattie shrugged. ‘Sort of. I realise that I was a bit hard on him; he was struggling to adapt to his new life and I made it difficult for him to see me. I will go and stay with him, Nick is great and I’d like to get to know my stepfamily more, but not until I’m settled.’
‘You never know, you might like France and want to live there. Although, me and Lou would miss you like mad.’
‘No, I don’t fancy living abroad. Mum’s been really supportive too, she’s been on a Caribbean cruise the past few weeks but messages me when she can and has offered for me to stay with her and Howard as long as I want. I’m beginning to realise how lucky I am to have two parents living abroad. Lots of free holidays.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Mali held out her wine glass. ‘Here’s to new beginnings.’
‘New beginnings,’ Hattie repeated as they clinked glasses. She was feeling so much better. Being with Mali always cheered her up. Her friend was right. This was a new beginning for her and she should seize it with both hands.
The weekend didn’t turn out as she’d planned, though. She’d been looking forward to going back to Bristol again, staying with Mali and Lou, checking out the houses Mali had found her to rent. But it had seemed so strange. She felt as if she had come back to somewhere she used to live and didn’t belong to anymore. It felt too loud, too busy. The houses were modern and warm but she couldn’t imagine living in them. She kept comparing them to quaint, cheerful Fisherman’s Rest with its gorgeous sea view. As she walked around the streets with Mali and Lou, she kept thinking about the picturesque houses and cobbled streets of Port Medden.
Mali had seen something was wrong. ‘Your heart isn’t in this, is it?’ she’d asked yesterday when they had looked around the last house on her list.
Hattie had shaken her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mali, but I don’t feel like I belong here anymore. It’s weird. I know I’ve only been in Port Medden a few weeks but I feel at home there, and I love Uncle Albert’s little cottage.’
Mali looked thoughtful. ‘If you really don’t want to move from Port Medden, why don’t you rent a place down there when the house is sold, as we suggested before? You could save the money from the house sale and when your photography business is up and running, or you get a job, you could put it down as a deposit and buy somewhere to live.’
‘I love the cottage, though. I don’t know if I want to live anywhere else. I wish I could afford to buy Dad out, but I’ve got no chance of doing that.’
‘Is it Marcus or the cottage you’re in love with? If Marcus moved out from next door, would you still want to live there?’ Mali asked her.
Hattie thought about it. She did love Marcus, yes, but she loved the cottage and little town too. ‘I think I would, yes.’
She looked at Mali pensively. ‘I can’t explain, but I feel so at home there.’
‘Oh, Hattie, I’m so sorry.’ Mali gave her a big hug. ‘Look, I’d love you to stay here with me and Lou but I think that maybe you should get right away when the house is sold. Go and stay with your dad or mum for a month or so, get your head together.’
Hattie thought she had a point, so promised to think about it. Mali persuaded her to stay one more night. ‘You’re tired, don’t travel down now,’ she said. ‘Let’s have a drink and a catch up.’
Hattie thought that sounded a great idea.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It was Sunday evening before Marcus finally finished the painting of Buddy. Marcus put down his brush and stepped back, his eyes resting on the painting in front of him, the parrot’s head bent towards the plate, a chunk of toast in his beak, which it was obvious he’d snatched from the piece of toast on the plate, his eye seeming to stare out of the picture back at him. It was cheeky, fun, and colourful. Was it good enough? It was all he had time for. The exhibition was on Tuesday and Lady Thomwell wanted to pick up the painting tomorrow to take down to London. He didn’t expect to win – there would be artists far more talented than him entering – but he wanted to enter because Lady Thomwell had asked him personally and the prize money wasn’t to be sneezed at. He wouldn’t sell the painting, though, he had decided. It would be good to have a memory of Buddy when Hattie had left, taking the parrot with her. To have a memory of them both, he thought, looking over at the painting of Hattie in the corner.
Just then, his phone rang. Thinking it was Hattie, to let him know what time she’d be home, he answered it without checking. It was Lady Thomwell.
‘Is your painting finished, Marcus?’ she asked.
‘Yes, just,’ he replied.
‘Then I’ll come and get it. I’m in the area and want to set out early in the morning.’
‘The paint is still a bit wet,’ he told her. ‘I’d rather bring it over tomorrow morning.’
‘No, don’t do that. I’m leaving early so I’ll collect it on the way to London. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? My friend has a spare room you can use. You could make some useful contacts at the exhibition.’
She couldn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t his scene. He liked painting. He didn’t like putting his paintings on display and listening to people make comments about them – good or bad. It made him feel awkward.
‘I can’t spare the time, I’m afraid, but thank you for taking the painting for me. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Hattie texted a little while later to say that she was staying over at Mali’s again tonight and would be back tomorrow morning. He felt strangely disappointed. Knowing that she wasn’t next door had made him feel out of sorts all weekend. He wondered if she had chosen the house she wanted. Two or three more weeks and she would be gone. The knowledge that he would never see her again was eating into him. You’ll get over it, he told himself.
He was tired. He’d worked flat out all weekend to finish the painting. He grabbed a shower, something to eat and collapsed into bed. He was woken the next morning by his phone ringing.
Hattie?
He grabbed it, only to discover that it was Lady Thomwell again.
‘Where are you, Marcus? I’ve been banging on your door for five minutes.’
Shit! He glanced at the clock. It was nine. He’d been totally zonked. ‘I’ll be right there,’ he said. Ending the call, he grabbed his shorts and pulled them on, then headed for the door, running his hands through his messy hair as he pounded barefoot down the stairs. He opened the door and was greeted by a surprised stare from Lady Thomwell and a cheeky wink from Estelle. He hadn’t known she was going too.
‘Did we get you up, dear?’ Lady Thomwell stepped in without waiting to be asked and Estelle followed, her eyes drifting over his naked torso and back up to his face.
Marcus groaned. Why hadn’t he pulled on a T-shirt?
‘I’ll just get the painting, it’s up in the attic.’ He turned to walk down the hall to the stairs and realised that the two women were following him.
‘We’ll come with you. I’m dying to see where you work,’ Estelle said.
‘And there might be another couple of paintings we could take. You aren’t confined to one entry, you know,’ Lady Thomwell added.
There was nothing for it but to let them in to his studio.
‘Bugger off!’ Buddy greeted them as they all walked into the attic.
‘Goodness, you keep a parrot up here!’ Lady Thomwell exclaimed. ‘And you’ve painted him! That’s wonderful. Look at this, Estelle.’
But Estelle had spotted the painting of Hattie and was walking over to that.
‘Estelle?’ Lady Thomwell turned. ‘What are you doing? Oh goodness, that is striking!’
Marcus supressed a groan as she walked over to his painting of Hattie too. Why hadn’t he covered it up?
‘This is your girlfriend, isn’t it? The one you brought to Rupert’s birthday party?’ said Lady Thomwell. ‘She looked stunning in those leathers.’
Marcus nodded. ‘The parrot belongs to her. I
’m looking after it while she’s away for the weekend.’
Lady Thomwell was walking around the painting, studying it from every angle. ‘You must enter this in the exhibition too. It’s stunning. So much character. Isn’t he talented, Estelle?’
‘Beautifully painted, darling, and how sweet that you’ve painted your girlfriend,’ Estelle said. ‘I prefer the parrot painting, though. He’s such a gorgeous bird.’
‘I think I prefer this one. It’s got a look of wildness about it,’ Lady Thomwell said, nodding her head as she walked around the painting of Hattie. ‘You can almost hear the bike starting up ready to go, and feel the young woman’s adrenalin coursing through her. She looks like someone who enjoys life and lives it to the full.’
Exactly like Hattie, Marcus thought. And right now, she was planning her next adventure.
He could feel Estelle’s eyes on him, feel her brain ticking. ‘Such a shame she’s moving away. You’ll miss her, won’t you? I guess you painted her portrait as a reminder. That’s so sweet,’ she said languidly.
Her words took him by surprise. How the hell did she know that Hattie was moving away? He quickly pulled himself together. ‘Yes, she’s selling the cottage but she’s not moving that far. We can see each other at weekends.’
‘She’s going to Bristol, isn’t she? My friend Hilary said. Hattie took some photos of Charlotte riding her horse, they were very good, so Hilary tried to book her for Charlotte’s birthday party photos in September but Hattie said that she was moving away to Bristol soon,’ Estelle explained, obviously noticing Marcus’s surprised expression.
‘Well, it’s not set in stone yet but, yes, she’s thinking of going back to Bristol. She’s been over there this weekend looking at property,’ he said. ‘She’ll be back any time now.’
‘How nice.’ Estelle smiled sweetly at him.
‘We really must be going. I’d like to take both these paintings, if I may, Marcus. They are wonderful. I’d be very surprised if one of them didn’t win a prize.’
Marcus hesitated. ‘I’m not . . .’
But Lady Thomwell was adamant. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after them. You’ll have them back safe and sound next week.’
What could he say? ‘Let me wrap them both up and carry them down for you.’
‘We’ve had to park around the corner, Branson is waiting in the Rolls,’ Lady Thomwell said.
The chauffeur got out when he saw them approaching and opened the boot which was full of suitcases and baggage. ‘Just place them on the suitcases, dear, they will be perfectly fine,’ Lady Thomwell said. ‘I promise I will take good care of them. You are a very talented young man and I am quite certain one of these will win a prize.’
He hoped so, he could do with the money. And he did trust Lady Thomwell to look after his paintings, he knew that she had great respect for art. He lay the pictures flat on top of the suitcases and closed the boot. ‘Thank you for entering these for me.’
‘It’s a pleasure, dear.’ Lady Thomwell kissed him on the cheek, then got into the back of the Rolls. ‘Come on, Estelle. We must go.’
‘Hang on, I need a pee,’ Estelle said, turning to Marcus. ‘I couldn’t quickly nip to your loo, could I?’
He wanted to refuse her, but it would be rude so he nodded, hoping he had left the bathroom tidy, and they both walked back to Curlew Cottage. As soon as Marcus opened the door, Estelle shouted, ‘Thank so much,’ and dashed past him. He waited on the doorstep and she returned a few minutes later.
‘Right, I’ll be off,’ she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a big kiss on the lips – just as Hattie rode past on her motorbike.
Chapter Forty
Hattie rode around to the back of the cottages, stunned. She pulled up outside the back gate of Fisherman’s Rest, and tried to pull herself together, the shock of seeing Marcus and Estelle kissing in the doorway of his cottage coursing through her. Marcus and Estelle! He had begged Hattie to go to the party with him so he could avoid Estelle’s advances, and now he had invited her to his house as soon as Hattie’s back was turned, and there he was standing on the doorstep kissing her goodbye. And that wasn’t a friendly kiss. That was a ‘just got out of bed’ kiss. And if the kiss didn’t prove he had just got out of bed, his tousled hair and half-naked body certainly did. How could he?
She parked her bike up in the back yard and let herself in, expecting to hear Buddy squawk ‘Where you been?’ as soon as she stepped foot into the lounge, then realised Marcus had him. Damn, that meant he’d be bringing him back soon and right now Marcus was the last person she wanted to see. She felt such a fool, there she’d been, thinking of him all weekend, missing him, wishing she wasn’t leaving, whereas he hadn’t given her a moment’s thought, he was too busy bedding Estelle.
You don’t own him. You both agreed to be ‘friends only’, remember. And now he isn’t working for the Thomwells, Estelle isn’t the daughter of a client any longer, so perhaps he’s decided to date her. And he had every right to. He was single. He could date who he wanted.
She had to forget about him. She had her own future to work out. And she wasn’t going to waste a moment of it thinking about Marcus, that was for sure!
What was she going to do, though? She felt lost. Adrift.
She looked up as she heard a knock on the front door. That was probably Marcus bringing Buddy back. Well, she was going to keep cool and not let on that it had bothered her seeing him kiss Estelle. Not that it had; she was over it.
‘Hi, Hattie. Glad to see you back.’ He was holding the travel cage with Buddy inside it, and looked a bit awkward. ‘Look, sorry about that with Estelle . . .’
‘You don’t have to explain, you’re perfectly entitled to kiss your girlfriend.’
‘She isn’t my girlfriend.’ He sounded frustrated.
‘Oh, of course she isn’t, you don’t have girlfriends, do you? You just have friends that you sleep with now and again . . .’ she retorted.
Marcus recoiled as if she had slapped him across the face. ‘Lady Thomwell came to pick up my painting for the exhibition. I managed to get it finished in time and Estelle—’
She cut him short. She knew what she’d seen and didn’t want to hear his lies. ‘I don’t want to know. You don’t have to explain to me. I’m just a friend. And I won’t be here much longer. When this cottage is sold, I’m going to France, so you can see who you want. Fill your boots.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’ll take Buddy. Thank you for looking after him.’
‘Hattie, you’ve got it all wrong,’ Marcus protested.
‘It really isn’t important. If I could just have Buddy.’
‘At least let me transfer Buddy into the big cage for you.’ Marcus walked past her and carried the cage into the lounge. Hattie watched sulkily as he opened the cage doors and Buddy hopped into the big one. Then he put the travel cage down and turned to Hattie. ‘If you’d just let me explain . . .’
‘I don’t want to hear it. Please go.’
His eyes held hers and she saw the spark of anger in them, the tight set of his jaw. Tough, she didn’t want to hear his excuses. He could do what he liked with his life.
‘If that’s what you want,’ he said.
‘It is.’
She showed him out and shut the door behind him. Then she went back into the lounge, curled up on the sofa and cried.
Finally, her tears spent, she got up, wiped her eyes, and put the kettle on for a coffee. After Adam, she’d promised herself that she would never let a man break her heart again, and now look at her. Marcus wasn’t worth it any more than Adam had been. She was going to pull herself together and get on with her life.
She’d just sat down with her cup of coffee, when her phone rang. It was her mum; Hattie guessed she must be back from the cruise now.
‘Hello, darling. How are you? I’ve been dying to call you but the reception on the ship has been terrible,’ Caroline said. ‘Have you managed to sort out somewhere to live? You know t
hat you’re welcome here.’
‘I know, Mum. Thanks. Dad said that too.’
‘Really? Are you both on better terms, then?’
‘I guess we’ve had to have more contact because of selling the cottage. And Nick came over to help me.’ She filled her mother in on what had been happening the last few weeks while she had been sailing around the Caribbean.
‘I’m pleased that you’re both getting on.’ There was a pause, then she continued, ‘I’m sorry if you felt that you had to take my side when we divorced and that’s why you didn’t see more of your dad. That wasn’t fair of me. I was just so hurt.’
That was a first, her mother apologising! ‘It’s okay, Mum. I was angry with him too.’
‘Well, it was all a long time ago, and I’m happy with Howard, so time to let it all go. I’d be delighted if you wanted to come and spend some time with us while you sort yourself out, but I won’t mind in the least if you decide to visit your father instead. I promise you. I want you to do what’s best for you. I want you to be happy.’
Hattie swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Thanks, Mum. Now, tell me all about your holiday.’
They chatted away for a while, exchanging news.
‘Call me soon, let me know how you’re getting on, and what you’ve decided to do,’ her mother said as she ended the call.
‘I will,’ Hattie promised.
That was her priority, deciding what to do. And, as her mother said, she had to do what was best for her. This was her life.
‘Hello, Hattie!’ Buddy suddenly squawked. ‘Hello, Hattie!’
Hattie spun around in surprise. He’d actually learnt to say it. ‘Hello, Buddy!’ she said.
She got up and walked over to the cage. Buddy was hopping along the branch, squawking, obviously happy to see her. They’d really bonded now; Buddy was part of her life.
‘I don’t know where we’re going to live, Buddy,’ she said. ‘But I’ll find somewhere nice and cosy, just for the two of us.’