by Karen King
She felt happier now, determined not to mope over Marcus. She had so much going for her. Thanks to Uncle Albert, she had enough money to get herself a nice home, her redundancy money had finally arrived in her bank account too, so she had plenty to live on for a while. She should be happy, not crying like a lovesick schoolgirl!
Jonathan phoned a little later to let her know the Bryants, the people who were buying the cottage, would like to pop in for another look around to check if there was anything urgent they needed to do as they were intending to let the cottage out this summer. ‘They’re trying to push the sale through by the end of July so that they can let it out in August and September and then refurbish during the winter months,’ he said.
‘That’s fine,’ she told him. She had to face facts. She couldn’t stay in the cottage, much as she loved it, and Marcus didn’t love her even though she loved him. Time to pull on her big-girl pants and move on.
She made herself another coffee and sat down with a notebook and pen to write down the pros and cons of her options, reminding herself that she was lucky to have options to choose from:
Rent a place in Port Medden
Pros
I love it and already have contacts for my photography business.
Cons
Living in the same village as Marcus and would probably keep bumping into him.
Business might be slow in the winter. It might be too quiet in the winter so I could find it boring.
Go over to France
Pros
It would be good to spend some time with Dad and my stepfamily.
Cons
Don’t want to live over there so would still have to sort out a home when I came back. And what would I do with Buddy?
Go over to Portugal
Pros
Good to see Mum.
Cons
The same as going over to France.
Go to a completely new area
Pros
It would be a fresh new start.
Cons
I wouldn’t know anyone and don’t fancy starting right from scratch.
Move back to Bristol
Pros
I like and know Bristol. Mali and Lou are there. I could stay with them for a couple of weeks until I find a house to rent. I have contacts there and should be able to get work easily.
Cons
It isn’t Port Medden.
She sipped her coffee as she studied the list. Then she made up her mind.
‘We’re going back to Bristol, Buddy,’ she said. She picked up the phone to call Mali.
Mali almost whooped with delight.
‘Of course you can stay with us for as long as you want!’ she said.
‘Thank you. Hopefully I’ll find somewhere to rent quickly. And I’m sorry but the buyers want the sale to go through by the end of July so it means you and Lou won’t be able to come down again for a holiday.’
‘Don’t you worry about that. Having you with us will be like a holiday. We can help you look for your new house, and settle in. It’ll be fun.’
Mali was right. It was going to be fun, Hattie thought. This was a whole new chapter of her life. She’d soon forget Marcus and Port Medden once she was settled back in Bristol again.
Chapter Forty-One
The week whizzed by. The Bryants came to check over the cottage again on Thursday morning. ‘You will leave it empty, won’t you?’ Mrs Bryant asked Hattie. ‘We’ll need to clean it all out and get some new furniture in before we let it.’
Hattie felt her heart sink. She hadn’t thought about that. Of course they’d expect the cottage to be empty. ‘Yes, unless there is anything you want me to leave?’
Mrs Bryant shook her head. ‘No, it’s all a bit . . . worn and dated.’
She was right, it was, Hattie acknowledged. Although, personally, she found the old sofa very comfy, and it looked cosy with the white throw she’d put over it. She loved the dresser too, with all of Uncle Albert’s bits and pieces in it. The Bryants wanted it as a holiday let, she reminded herself.
‘How soon can we push the sale through?’ Mr Bryant asked Jonathan.
‘Can we take some photos so we can show people?’ Mrs Bryant asked. ‘We’ve already got a couple who want to book August, and two more interested. There’s someone who wants the last week in July too. I don’t suppose we could get the sale through by the middle of July, could we, to give us time to tidy up and get new furniture in?’
That was only two weeks away! Hattie thought in panic.
‘I don’t think that’s feasible. I’ll check with my solicitor,’ Hattie told them.
When she checked with her solicitor he said that three weeks was more feasible, so they settled on exchanging contracts on the Monday that week and completing on the Wednesday.
‘We’ll need your dad to come over and sign the papers for the exchange,’ the solicitor said. ‘I’ll email him and let him know but I’m sure you’ll be speaking to him.’
‘I’ll ring him this morning,’ Hattie said.
‘That’s great love,’ said her dad when she called him to tell him the news. ‘I’ll drive over in case there’s anything I want to take back. Is it okay if I stay for the weekend?’
‘Of course, it’s your cottage too.’ She’d be glad of the company and was looking forward to spending some time with her dad.
‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you to come back with me?’
‘I’m going back to Bristol, Dad. Mali’s putting me up until I find a place of my own. But I will come and see you soon, I promise.’
She decided to spend the afternoon sorting out the cupboards in the dresser. She guessed they held a lot of Uncle Albert’s personal things; she’d put anything she thought her dad might like in a box to give to him.
She opened the cupboard doors and started to pull out the contents: old books, boxes of black-and-white photographs, another box of papers, some screwdrivers, a stapler. She sat down on the carpet and placed the box of photographs on her lap. Many of them were faded now, of people she didn’t know and who probably weren’t still alive. She peered at one photo of a little boy standing in front of a couple, a young man beside them. Was that Granny and Grandad? She turned the photo over: Albert, Mum, Roger and Owen it said. The date was 19 something but the last two figures were too faded for her to read. Her dad, his parents and Uncle Albert. It was the first time she’d seen a photo of them all. It really illustrated the age difference between her dad and Uncle Albert. No wonder they hadn’t been very close.
Her dad had suggested she called a house-clearance firm to collect the furniture the week of the sale. She wondered whether to ask Winnie and Marcus if they wanted anything from the house, as they had both been fond of Uncle Albert. It would be a bit awkward, but Marcus had been kind to her uncle so she should at least ask if he wanted anything before everything was taken away. Besides, what did it matter about him and Estelle now? She wouldn’t be here much longer to bother about anything he did. She’d been silly to get so worked up about it. She’d ask Winnie and Marcus if they had time to pop around now, it would make it easier for her to see Marcus if Winnie was there too.
She sent Marcus a quick text and then popped around to Primrose Cottage. Winnie answered on the first knock. ‘Hello, my dear, how’s the house sale going?’ she asked cheerily.
‘We’re exchanging in three weeks,’ Hattie told her.
‘That soon? Well I’ll miss you, and I’m sure Marcus will too. It’s such a shame, you’re a wonderful neighbour, but it is what it is.’ Winnie rubbed her hands together briskly. ‘Now, what can I do for you? Or were you popping in for a cup of tea and a chat?’
‘I’m organising a house-clearance company to come in and empty the cottage the day before we complete and was wondering if there was anything you wanted to remember Uncle Albert by? The furniture is quite old and worn, but maybe you’d like to have a look?’
‘What a lovely idea. I will pop around, thank you. Did you w
ant me to come now?’
‘If you have time.’ She heard a message ping and checked her phone. ‘Marcus is on his way too.’
Her heart fluttered as she saw Marcus come out of his cottage as she and Winnie walked down the path to Fisherman’s Rest.
‘Afternoon, Marcus. I hope we don’t want the same things,’ Winnie said mischievously.
Marcus smiled. ‘You can have first choice, Winnie.’
He glanced at Hattie and she threw him a brief smile to let him know that there was no awkwardness on her part. She was determined to be adult about this.
Once inside, Hattie put the kettle on and made tea for Winnie and coffee for her and Marcus while they both checked out the furniture. After much deliberating, Winnie decided upon a table lamp and a mantlepiece clock. ‘I shall think of dear Albert whenever I look at them,’ she said. Marcus took Albert’s binoculars and the big ship he kept in the lounge window. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want them?’ he asked Hattie.
She shook her head. ‘Please have them. Uncle Albert would want you to.’
‘Have you saved anything to remember your uncle by, dear?’ Winnie asked as they all sat sipping their drinks.
‘I’m taking the painting over the fireplace.’ That would remind her of her uncle and of Marcus. ‘And I’ve got some photos. I’m going to look through them with my dad. Dad wants his pipe rack – he doesn’t smoke but he said he always remembers Albert sitting in the rocking chair smoking. I’d like to keep the rocking chair too, but I don’t think it will fit in my friend Mali’s car. I’ll be staying with her until I get myself a place in Bristol.’
‘I’ll be sad to see you go, Hattie. Do pop in and see us if you’re ever down this way,’ Winnie said.
‘I will,’ Hattie promised.
‘What about Buddy?’ Hattie felt Marcus’s eyes upon her, he was waiting for her answer.
‘Obviously, he’s coming with me,’ Hattie replied.
‘Well, I must go now, dear, this has been lovely. And thank you so much for the mementos of Albert. I appreciate it.’ Winnie got to her feet, picking up the bag that Hattie had put the table lamp and clock in.
‘You’re welcome.’ Hattie stood up, expecting Marcus to go too but he remained seated.
What does he want? She thought as she let Winnie out and then came back in. He was standing now, hands in pockets, an earnest expression on his face.
‘Hattie, I want to talk to you. Will you please hear me out?’
‘What about?’ she asked wearily.
‘Monday. I did not sleep with Estelle and she tricked me into that kiss. Lady Thomwell came to pick up my painting for the exhibition. I overslept, quickly pulled on some shorts and went to answer the door to find her and Estelle on the doorstep.’ He thrust his hand through his hair. ‘They came in to look at the painting and I helped them carry it out to the car. Then Estelle said she needed the loo so I let her back in. I had told her you would be home soon and I think she pretended she needed the loo to buy more time, saw you coming and quickly kissed me.’ He looked genuinely remorseful. ‘I’m sorry that you had to witness that.’
She bit her lip and averted her gaze. ‘Well, thank you for explaining but it really doesn’t matter. You’re single. You can see who you want to.’
‘It does matter. I’ve told you how she harasses me, and you came to the birthday party, pretended to be my girlfriend to put her off.’
‘Didn’t work though, did it?’
‘No, it didn’t. I promise you that I’m really not interested in her, whereas I . . . like you very much. You’re leaving soon and I don’t want us to part on bad terms.’
She liked him too. More than liked him. ‘Neither do I. Let’s forget all about it,’ she said.
He held out his hand. ‘Friends?’
She took it, trying not to notice the familiar tingle coursing around her body. ‘Friends.’
‘Will you let me help you sort all this out? You must still have such a lot to do.’
She did. Too much. ‘The house clearance will take most of it, but I still need to sort through all the cupboards and drawers and make sure there’s nothing important.’ She sighed.
‘So, you’re going back to Bristol then?’
She nodded, too choked up to speak.
‘And is that what you really want to do?’
She licked her lips, gulped and then she shook her head. ‘No. I know you won’t believe this, but I’d like to stay here, in Fisherman’s Rest. I love it in Port Medden and my photography business is picking up, but I’ve got no choice and I shouldn’t be complaining. The money from the sale will help me start a new life.’ She tilted her chin. ‘But please don’t assume that I’m walking away because I want to. I love it here.’
And I love you.
For a moment, she was scared that she had said the words aloud. He was looking at her, his eyes dark, his expression unfathomable. He nodded slowly. ‘I understand. It must be difficult for you, but I’m sure you’ll find somewhere nice to live and be happy.’ His gaze flitted to the box of photos on the floor. ‘I have to go to work soon so I’ll leave you to look through the photos, but how about I come around tomorrow afternoon and help you sort out the rest of the cupboards?’
‘Thanks. I’d love that.’
Chapter Forty-Two
‘You’re not looking very happy tonight,’ Mandy remarked when Marcus walked in to do his evening shift. ‘What’s up? Is it because Hattie’s leaving?’
Marcus looked at her miserably. ‘So much for you and your intuition. The sale will be through in a couple of weeks and she’s going back to Bristol.’
‘Have you told her how you feel?’
‘What’s the point. It’s quite clear she doesn’t feel the same way. Besides, she has no choice. She has to leave.’
Mandy fixed him with a stern glance. ‘There’s always a choice. And even my intuition needs a helping hand sometimes. Tell her how you feel. And if she feels the same way you’ll both sort something out.’
Marcus thought about Mandy’s advice all evening but decided not to take it. It was obvious that Hattie only looked on him as a friend. She said she didn’t want to leave Port Medden, or the cottage, but had said nothing about leaving him. And if she was that fond of Port Medden, or had any feelings for him, she could find somewhere to rent.
Or she could move in with him.
He’d been toying with the thought for a couple of weeks now, he was so desperate for Hattie not to leave. He had never even thought of living with one of his girlfriends before, he liked his own space, his independence. And hadn’t thought enough of any of them to give that up for them. Hattie was different, though. Would she want to? Would it work? If it didn’t, then he would have to ask her to leave and how horrible would that be?
He shook his head. No, it was all too much of a risk.
When he passed Fisherman’s Rest later that evening, after finishing his shift, he saw that the light was on in the lounge. Hattie was still up. He stood at the gate, looking at the window, wondering whether to knock on the door. How had they gone from that easy friendship where he used to pop in on the way home from work to this?
He sighed and carried on to Curlew Cottage. He poured himself a glass of wine when he got inside and sipped it slowly, remembering making love with Hattie, her scent, the taste of her, the feel of her.
He was going to miss her.
The next morning, Hattie was up bright and early. She whisked open the curtains to look out at the sea over the rooftops. ‘I’m going to make the most of the time I have left down here,’ she decided. ‘No more moping.’
So, straight after breakfast, she headed down to the beach for a swim in the sea. She’d promised herself she’d have a swim every morning but hadn’t got around to it. Now, she was determined to find time for it. The beach was empty apart from a few surfers riding the waves. She looked out at them, wondering if one of them was Marcus, but they were too far out for her to see clearly. Well, it d
idn’t matter if he was there, they had buried the hatchet and were both adult enough to be pleasant to each other for the short time she had left in Port Medden. She was pleased that Marcus was coming around that afternoon to help her sort through the cupboards. She was stupidly really looking forward to seeing him again and was determined to keep it light and pleasant.
She wriggled out of her shorts and vest top, stripping down to the brightly coloured bikini she was wearing underneath, and placed them in her beach bag, then put the bag by some rocks and covered it with a towel. Her phone and door keys were in the bag but there was no one about so they should be safe, she thought. She headed over to the sea, paddling until she got in deep enough to swim and plunged in.
The water was cool and refreshing. She swam for a while, making sure not to go out too far, feeling herself relax. When she’d finally had enough, she headed back for the beach and sat down on the sand, drying herself with her towel.
Then she lay down and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the sun on her skin.
‘Morning. Have you been for a swim?’
She opened her eyes at the familiar voice. Marcus was standing in front of her, his wetsuit clinging to him like a second skin, his long hair pulled back into a low ponytail, his surfboard under his arm. He looked sensational. She felt her insides do a flip and sat up. ‘Yes, I’ve been meaning to come for a morning swim for ages.’ She tucked her still-wet hair behind her ears. ‘I did wonder if you were one of the surfers out there.’
He sat down in the sand beside her, and lay the board beside him. ‘Did you enjoy the swim?’
She turned her face towards him, then wished she hadn’t as his gaze locked with hers, his eyes dark and mesmerising, and she felt her breath catch in her throat, her hands ache to reach out and touch his face, to feel her fingers on his skin. Damn, why did he always have this effect on her?
‘I did. Thank you. Have you heard how your painting fared in the exhibition?’ she asked, lowering her eyes as she brushed some sand off her legs, trying to give herself a chance to pull herself together.