by Heidi Swain
‘One coffee,’ the guy smiled, putting a cup and saucer down in front of me. ‘And are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?’
Now I thought about it, my time out in the sea air and on the beach had given me a bit of an appetite.
‘I’m doing sausage sandwiches and baguettes today,’ he added temptingly.
‘Oh, go on then,’ I caved. ‘I’ll have a sandwich, please. On wholemeal, if you have it.’
‘Of course,’ he said approvingly, ‘and you won’t regret it. Wynmouth has the best butcher for miles around.’
He was certainly right. The sandwich was delicious, and I felt pleased that I had spotted a couple of packets bearing the butcher’s logo in the fridge after Sophie had stocked it. Which reminded me of my original reason for popping into the pub. I wasn’t in the habit of letting a good-looking guy throw me off course, but then I was on holiday, so anything was possible, wasn’t it?
‘I meant to say before,’ I explained as I swallowed down the last delectable mouthful. ‘I’m Tess Tyler. I’m renting the cottage next door.’
‘Yeah,’ said the guy, shaking his head and sounding every bit as remiss as I felt. ‘Sorry, I guessed as much. My head’s a bit all over the place this morning.’
I wondered if that was as a result of the look he had given me when I arrived or, assuming that he was Sam the landlord, if it was because of the last-minute appointment Sophie had mentioned which had thrown this schedule.
I would have liked to flatter myself by thinking that it was the sight of me which had elicited his muddle-headedness, but realistically I knew if he was the man in charge, then it was more likely to be the appointment. Any deviation from my weekly work pattern could play havoc with me for days. There was no telling how I was going to cope now I had thrown my regimented hour-by-hour routine by the wayside.
‘I’m Sam,’ he then said, confirming my assumption. ‘The landlord here and the guy you were emailing about the cottage.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Sam,’ I smiled.
The brisk tone of his emails in no way matched his laidback, casual look. I would never have put him and his writing style together.
‘Pleased to meet you too, Tess,’ he smiled back, this time meeting my eye without his cheeks colouring.
He really was a good-looking guy and I couldn’t help thinking that there was something familiar about him, but it was probably more to do with the fact that he seemed gifted with a knack of putting folk at ease – a perfect trait for a landlord to have – rather than us having met before.
I had felt something similar when I was with Sophie, although not the same spark of attraction, so perhaps it was just the Wynmouth charm which provoked the sensation. I certainly didn’t remember Sam from my previous holidays, so it wasn’t the familiarity of recognition I found in his hypnotic gaze, but then those days were long passed now.
‘How are you finding the cottage?’ he asked. ‘Have you got everything you need?’
‘Yes,’ I told him, ‘everything’s wonderful, and I wanted to thank Sophie for making it so welcoming. Her curried crab was delicious.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell her,’ Sam said as, unasked, he made me another coffee. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to set things up for you myself, but I had an appointment I couldn’t miss.’
I didn’t say that Sophie had told me as much because I didn’t want him to think she had been indiscreet. Which she hadn’t.
‘It wasn’t a problem,’ I said instead.
‘I’ve been waiting for ages, you see,’ he carried on. ‘I’m having a new leg and there was an appointment cancellation, so I took it.’
‘You really don’t have to explain,’ I shrugged, then realization struck. ‘Hang on . . .’ I bit back the words and Sam started to laugh.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘you did hear that right. I’m treating myself to an upgrade.’
He walked back around the bar again and it was only then that I realized that the part of his lower left leg revealed beneath his khaki cargo shorts was prosthetic.
‘It’s costing me a fortune,’ he explained, his open expression clouding a little, ‘but the last one I had from the hospital has never really fit right and it’s been giving me grief for ages.’
‘Right,’ I said, ‘I see.’
‘I’m investing in myself instead of this place,’ he sighed, looking around the pub. ‘I just hope it’s not a mistake. It feels a bit self-indulgent, to be honest.’
It didn’t sound like a decadent purchase to me.
‘Personally,’ I told him, trying to imagine how painful an ill-fitting prosthetic must be, ‘I think it sounds more essential than self-indulgent.’
He smiled again, making my stomach flip, and I took another look around the pub as he welcomed a couple more customers and took their orders. The place looked absolutely spot on: exactly what you would expect to find in a quaint Norfolk seaside village.
‘I don’t think you need to worry about this place,’ I told him when he came back and then, thinking of my own sudden understanding of self-care, added, ‘sometimes you just have to put yourself first.’
I was hardly the greatest at practising what I preached just yet, but at least I’d made a start. That I had finally made it back to Wynmouth, as opposed to just daydreaming about the place, was proof enough of that.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said, fixing me again with his gorgeous green eyes and leaning further over the bar. ‘Now tell me, what wind blew you to Wynmouth, Tess? A regular holiday in the Norfolk seaside or something more complicated? Are you putting yourself first by any chance?’
They were all questions I really didn’t feel up to answering, especially as my thoughts were still in such a muddle. I could have said that I was simply on holiday or that I was taking a break from work, but the complication of Mum’s diary swam in front of my eyes, and I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth again for fear of blurting the whole sorry story out. Thankfully I was saved from having to formulate a response.
‘I see you’ve found your way to the best pub in town, my dear.’
I looked over my shoulder and saw the man I had spoken to earlier, and his dog, framed in the doorway.
‘What you mean, George,’ said Sam, winking at me as the man came further in, ‘is that she’s found her way to the only pub in the village.’
I felt my temperature rising again in response to the friendly gesture. He was still giving off a very familiar vibe, but he definitely hadn’t been around during my former holidays. I was certain I would have remembered a lad with a prosthetic limb. Unless of course, he didn’t have it then. It didn’t feel like the sort of question I could very well ask on a first meeting, even though Sam’s demeanour suggested he would have happily told me.
‘Well, yes,’ said the man I now knew as George. ‘I suppose you’re right there, landlord, but it is a fine pub nonetheless.’
‘Thank you very much,’ said Sam with a little bow. ‘I take it you and Tess have already met.’
‘We have,’ I said, ‘we exchanged pleasantries at what I now realize must have been an ungodly hour earlier this morning.’
‘Everyone starts early around here,’ said George, doffing his well-worn panama hat in my direction. ‘Lovely to meet you properly though, Tess. What a pretty name.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, and this little bundle of mischief is Skipper,’ said Sam, peering over the bar at the dog who stared keenly back. ‘He has a fondness for chewing my leg if he gets half a chance.’
‘Is that why you’re staying behind the bar?’ I laughed.
‘That’s exactly why I’m staying behind the bar,’ Sam laughed back.
‘Now, that was just the one time,’ said George, springing to Skipper’s defence.
‘Once was enough!’ cut in Sam, making George laugh too.
‘I take it he’s already told you that he’s the one and only real pirate in these parts?’ George said to me.
‘He might have mentioned something,’ I nodded, ‘but it didn’t look like wood when I took a look at it.’
Sam looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
‘His leg, I mean,’ I hastily added, feeling my face flush again. ‘His leg didn’t look wooden.’
Sam bit his lip.
‘I’ll get your coffee, George,’ he grinned. ‘And Skipper will find his usual bowl next to the fireplace full of water.’
‘Thank you, dear boy,’ said George, oblivious of my embarrassment as he wandered further into the darker recesses of the pub.
Once my cheeks had stopped flaming, I settled my bill and thought about what I would do with the rest of my day. The pub was a little busier now, but not much. Perhaps there would be an influx of customers in the evening.
‘So,’ said Sam, handing me my change and making my skin tingle as his fingers brushed my palm. ‘What are your plans for this afternoon, Tess?’
‘I’m not sure yet.’
It felt extremely indulgent as well as unnerving, not having every minute of my day mapped out for me. Of course, I had plenty to deal with, that was my whole reason for heading back to Wynmouth, but I still didn’t think it would hurt to take a little bit longer before settling down to do it.
‘I might head back to the cottage for a nap,’ I said, feeling every bit as lazy as I no doubt sounded, ‘or I might have a wander further along the coast. I’m not sure yet.’
‘Depending on the tide, you might enjoy a spot of rock pooling while the sun’s still out,’ Sam suggested.
I was very much looking forward to revisiting the pools, not that Sam knew I had explored them before, but I wanted to save them until the moment felt right. They had always been such a highlight and that was exactly how I wanted to keep them.
‘And further along, just over the nearest groyne, there are some beach huts,’ he continued.
‘I noticed those this morning,’ I swallowed, ‘when I was walking on the beach.’
‘They’re always a popular spot,’ he went on, lowering his voice a little, ‘for one reason or another.’
I looked up and our eyes met for the briefest of seconds. I felt my breath catch in my throat as his gaze flicked to my lips and back up again. Was it possible that he knew? No, it was just my imagination. It had to be.
‘Occasionally, there’ll be one available to rent,’ he carried on sounding perfectly normal again. He reached for a cloth and began wiping down the already flawless bar. ‘So, keep an eye out for any signs hung on the doors, if you fancy it, that is.’
‘I will,’ I said huskily.
‘And then of course there’s Sophie’s café back the other way,’ he reminded me. ‘Visitors are always welcome there.’
‘It seems to me that visitors are welcome everywhere in Wynmouth,’ I pointed out.
‘More or less,’ Sam laughed but then his brow creased, ‘although unfortunately, there never seems to be quite enough of them these days.’
I looked around again, there were still only a very few customers.
‘But surely it will be busier next week,’ I pointed out, ‘what with the bank holiday weekend at the end of it.’ Sam didn’t look convinced. ‘And aren’t the schools on half-term too? I bet you and the other local businesses have loads planned to keep the tills ringing then.’
If they hadn’t, then they should have. In a village like Wynmouth, May bank holiday weekend should have marked the start of the summer season, but that was my marketing head talking and I wasn’t supposed to be using that.
‘What have you got planned for the pub?’ I couldn’t resist asking nonetheless.
Sam bit his lip but didn’t answer.
‘Don’t tell me, you haven’t organized anything at all, not even for the weekend?’
‘Not yet,’ he said, avoiding eye contact by focusing on folding the cloth into a neat square, ‘but it’s all in hand.’ He added, nodding at a notebook which looked as though it had a few scribbles in it.
It didn’t look much like a properly thought out promotional strategy to me, but I did have one suggestion that could swell his coffers a little.
‘Well, as we’re on the topic of increasing revenue,’ I carried on, trying to smile winningly, ‘I was wondering—’
‘Were we talking about that?’ he cut in.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘sort of.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I was wondering,’ I said again, ‘if there might be a possibility of you letting me stay on in the cottage for longer than two weeks, should I decide I want to.’
It was a reckless suggestion, given that I’d only stayed for one night so far, but I wanted to know if it might be a possibility. I was the most organized, disciplined and scheduled person I knew (if you discounted my father and at that moment I did), and it was going to take me some time to shake off the shackles and chill out.
I had some potentially life-changing decisions to make, as well as Mum’s diary to read and come to terms with, and the two-week timebomb ticking in my ears wasn’t the sort of pressure I needed on this occasion. As a rule, it would have been ideal, but this trip to Wynmouth was all about breaking the rules.
‘Well,’ said Sam, as he rubbed his hand around the back of his neck, ‘I’m really not sure about that.’
‘In your email,’ I hastily reminded him, ‘you told me that you were taking the place off the holiday market, didn’t you? Madness really, as you’re heading into the summer season . . .’
‘Yes,’ he conceded, ‘I did, but that was because—’
‘So, it’s just going to be sitting there empty anyway.’
‘I suppose,’ he shrugged. ‘Although I am planning to—’
‘I’m talking about a month at least,’ I interrupted, throwing caution to the wind and imagining four whole stress-free weeks stretching ahead of me, ‘and I’m prepared to pay the going rental rate. More than that, if necessary.’
Sam looked a little taken aback.
‘Don’t make a decision now,’ I said, hopping down from the bar stool I had been perched on and making for the door. ‘Have a think about it, and I’ll come back and pay you in a few days.’
‘That rather sounds like you’re assuming I’ll say yes,’ he called after me.
‘I have a feeling,’ I responded, as I stepped outside and breathed in the fresh sea air, ‘that you won’t be able to resist.’
Chapter 5
The euphoric thrill of being back in Wynmouth, along with excitement derived from making the rash request to lengthen my visit, stayed with me all of that day and part of the way into the next. Had I not then been confined to barracks because of the relentless rain and biting wind, I daresay the feeling might have stayed with me even longer, but by the end of Thursday, having struggled to keep my hands off my phone and having read the rest of Mum’s first couple of diary entries, I was feeling pretty low.
There was a level of acceptance and resignation as Mum described her feelings about seeing Dad out with another woman and I found that more depressing than anything. She had obviously been so in love with him that she was prepared to put up with the humiliation and I hated the fact that not only had her life had been cut so cruelly short, but that the last few years of it had been so miserable. If only she had confided in me . . .
Without the benefit of my regular work routine or the sunny beach to walk on and now more of Mum’s sad words ringing in my ears, my mood had become as dark as the inside of the cottage and I was tempted to retract my request of a month’s rental, but I didn’t.
‘You’re just going through a period of readjustment,’ I told myself, as I returned the diary to the drawer and stoked the fire. ‘You aren’t used to such a dramatic drop in your activity levels and you’re bound to feel overwhelmed by these shocking revelations.’
I lay, curled up on the sofa under a blanket and gave the weather beyond the window a hard stare. This was not what I had signed up for. I toyed with the idea of going back to
the pub for a few hours. I could take a book and pretend I was reading as I watched the world go by. At least there were other folk there, even if they were few and far between, but then, given everything else I had to deal with, I reckoned I didn’t need the distraction of the beguiling green eyes which belonged to the lovely landlord on top of everything else.
A spark of attraction had been the last thing I had expected to feel when I rushed to confirm my cottage reservation, but the touchpaper had been lit and the sensible thing now was to stand well back because even my no-strings fun ethos had occasionally been known to tie itself up into unwelcome knots.
*
By mid-morning on Friday there was the tiniest hint of a break in the cloud and when I spotted it, I wasted no time in setting out to chase it. I pulled on the raincoat which hung on a hook just inside the door, grabbed the umbrella beneath it and rushed out. I didn’t care if I was in for a soaking; if I stayed cooped up for much longer, I would go completely stir crazy.
‘Tess!’ called Sophie when she spotted me on the lane which led down to the beach.
I waited for her to catch me up.
‘Hello, Sophie,’ I smiled.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ she tutted, swapping the basket she was carrying from one hand to the other so she could link her arm through mine before I had a chance to take a step away, ‘don’t you look down in the dumps?’
‘Do I?’ I swallowed.
‘Yes, you do,’ she declared, squeezing me closer.
It was an intimate way to greet someone you barely knew but, after we had taken a few steps, I told myself to unclench and found I didn’t actually mind her unexpected proximity. The further we walked, the more comforting I found her unreserved friendliness and I made no attempt to untangle myself. Sophie was probably about the age Mum had been when I lost her and her maternal manner was cheering after the miserable couple of days I’d suffered.