Dreams of a Little Cornish Cottage

by Nancy Barone

  ‘No, uhm,’ I croaked. ‘It’s not like that, Octavia.’

  At that, Octavia cackled in delight. ‘Ha! Good one, Natalia! And I can only say, congratulations. He’s quite the eye candy. Come, Natalia – don’t make that face! There’s nothing to be ashamed about. We all salute you! The unassuming forty-year-old bags a banger.’

  ‘I’m still thirty-nine, actually,’ I corrected her. But she was beside herself with what I could now see was excitement as she planted her huge eyes on me and I almost detected a smile.

  ‘It would make a great topic for the June issue: Forty-something-year-old women and their toy boys.’

  ‘You want me to write about toy boys?’ I croaked. Oh my God in heaven.

  ‘It’ll fly like a kite. I want to warn our twenty-something readers what they’re up against with cougars like you still lurking around.’

  ‘C-cougars?’

  ‘Women like you, you muppet!’ she honked with a dazzling smile on her face. ‘Look at you, in your boring navy blue dress and neutral lip gloss, all quiet and low-key. While the twenty-year-olds are busy trying to sort their careers and images out, women like you – the older woman who already has everything – crawls out of the woodwork and snatches the guy at the eleventh hour! Hey, that would be a great title – The Eleventh-Hour Date!’

  Good God, she wasn’t going to start a column just to humiliate me, was she? Not even she would go that far, surely?

  ‘But I don’t have a t-toy boy,’ I faltered, hoping she’d come to her senses. This was insane.

  ‘It’ll be a huge success. You write an article about how to catch one of them and, most important, how to keep one. What’s not to love?’

  ‘Have you even listened to what I’ve said, Octavia?’

  ‘Yes. But have you been listening to what I haven’t said, Natalia?’

  So she was threatening me again, and through a very thin veil. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘I am dead serious, Natalia. Of all the articles you’ve ever submitted, this will be the best. I can’t imagine anything more interesting. Or anything worse than your last one about bloody Clark Kent.’

  Well, if she thought I wrote so badly, then why was she giving me another chance? Surely there were plenty of women around the country flaunting their own (and real) toy boys and willing to write about it? I thought of Connor, and his kindness. But he hadn’t so much as flirted with me, not even by mistake. How was I expected to just invent a relationship that simply wasn’t there?

  Octavia harrumphed, shaking her head, disappointed that I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity. ‘Have a think and call me tomorrow,’ she said, standing.

  Meaning: ‘You can go now, because that’s all I’m interested in negotiating,’ and that it was either her way or the way of The Job Centre. But just how could I pretend Connor was my toy boy? It would never work, plus he would never in a million years agree to do something so sordid. And let’s not forget he read my columns – and so did all the women in his family. How could I ever look him in the eye again? Plus, I would never agree to lie through my teeth just to keep my job. But then Lavender Cottage flashed through my mind. Or would I?

  There was so much at stake. I needed to keep my job, no matter what happened. There was a possibility that the house might not sell for months. And now I had Mum to take care of and the twins. So, for the sole sake of survival, I’d have to doctor the truth. Could I do it? And, more importantly, would Connor agree to do it, assuming I gathered up the courage to ask him to do something so wrong?

  I left the building in a right state, but by the time I’d settled myself into my seat on the train back home, I’d half-convinced myself that I owed it to everyone to at least ask him. If he agreed, my job would be safe. Surely it was worth a shot?

  Once settled on my train, I called Maggie. Whether to chew her out, or to thank her, I still didn’t know.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said when she picked up.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, my voice dying in my throat. She may have acted recklessly with my personal privacy, but she had saved my job. And my life. My entire family’s life. So who was I to be picky about her indiscretion?

  ‘Please tell me you’re going to do it?’ she begged. ‘I can’t imagine you not working there anymore.’

  ‘And you?’ I asked. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m already in talks with House & Home.’

  ‘Oh, Maggie, that’s fabulous, I’m so pleased for you!’ Maggie was the best fashion reporter that Lady had ever had, and The Hound was an absolute fool to get rid of her just because she was forty-two. Really, what kind of business sense was that? But she was savvy, Octavia, because legally no one could reprimand her for it, as she had also sacked some of our younger members of staff just so no one could actually come out and accuse her of ageism. She’d say it was purely coincidental and random.

  ‘And thanks for doing what you did, Maggie. I may not approve of your methods, but your heart was in the right place. And it got me a second chance.’

  ‘You want my advice, Nat? You jump on that bandwagon. Octavia is here to stay, like it or not. And unless you win the lottery, I suggest you stick with her.’

  She did have a point.

  ‘And besides, I’m sure Connor won’t mind you talking about your relationship. Did he tell you what was in that letter that never was?’

  ‘No. Nor will he ever, I’m beginning to think. He’s just my lodger. And a friend.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind being his friend.’ She cackled. ‘How’s Neil taking it?’

  ‘Oh, he’s not a happy camper. He’s still hoping I’m going to beg him to come back. And with my mum now like this? He comes over practically every day to check on her – and to try to talk some sense into me, all the while glaring at Connor.’

  ‘And Sarah?

  ‘She’s a tough nut to crack, too.’

  ‘I figured as much. And what about your nieces? They get on like a house on fire from what I saw that day on the beach.’

  ‘They are nuts about him. Although I worry about them, Mags. He’s practically acting as their babysitter, games master, big brother, uncle, and everything in between. What happens when he moves out? They’ll be devastated.’

  ‘Then don’t make him move out. Tell him about Octavia’s ultimatum, and see how he reacts. You two looked awfully chummy on that path yesterday. I’m sure it won’t be a problem for him.’

  ‘Ha-ha.’

  ‘Oh, and Nat? The black-tie benefit? I heard that Lady has already booked rooms for commuters at the Langham Hotel. Obviously you and Connor will be expected to share a room.’

  ‘What? Maggie, I don’t even know if I’m going to go for all this, and she’s already booked rooms?’

  ‘Be smart, sweetie, and play the game to save your ass. And bring your best nightie. You never know.’ And then she hung up.

  I stuffed my mobile into my pocket, my mind in absolute deep freeze. Assuming I decided to go ahead with this, Connor would probably not want to play along. Even when I had pretended to be Mrs Pentire to get into Lavender Cottage he had been uncomfortable about lying. Imagine trying to pass him off as my toy boy. And to share a room – and possibly a bed – with Connor? He would never agree to do it and I wouldn’t get through the night without having a stroke, because sharing a house was bad enough – how the hell was I expected to not make an absolute fool of myself while lying prostrate anywhere near him? Not that I wouldn’t have, well, you know… but let’s ask for one miracle at a time. For now, I’d be happy to keep my job.

  When I finally got home, with my heart in my throat, to be quite honest, I went straight to check on Mum. She was fast asleep in her favourite chair, and the telly was on at a low volume. I’d taught Sarah that trick – keep it on and Nana would snore away for hours. But turn it off and she’d wake instantly. She needed that background noise as a comfort factor. She’d always been like that.

  I reached over and, although it was almost summe
r, I placed a light throw over her and brought it up to her chest and removed her glasses. She didn’t stir.

  How young she looked in her sleep, without the frown lines and the judicial glare. Now, sitting in the slanting rays of a summer evening, she looked, well, fragile. Helpless. And she was depending on me to take care of her. I was all she had in this world now. If I was going to carry out this farce, it was for her, too, as well as Sarah and the twins. I bent over her once again and kissed her paper-thin cheek.

  In the kitchen, Sarah was finishing prepping dinner, her fancy bag and shoes already in pole position.

  ‘Hi, Mum, how did your meeting go?’

  I hadn’t told her about the risk of losing my job. ‘Splendidly, love. And how are things here with the girls?’

  Sarah grinned. ‘They spent a long time at the park with Connor. He’s been teaching them to play rounders and now he’s just got back from B&Q. I swear that man is like bloody Duracell.’

  ‘B&Q?’ I said.

  Sarah nodded towards the garden and I went to the window. Not far from the tree was a huge pile of planks. ‘He mentioned he’s going to be building the girls a tree house?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He asked and I said it was okay.’

  She sat down as I began to peel zucchini for my quiche.

  ‘I’m starting to think I was wrong about him,’ Sarah said after a while, pursing her lips. ‘He’s so kind and patient. And he seems to really have eyes for no one but you. So from now on, Mum, I promise I won’t interfere with your stuff.’

  I raised an eyebrow at her. ‘What stuff?’

  She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. ‘Your budding romance with Captain Poldark up there.’

  ‘Sarah, there is nothing—’

  ‘Mum – I get it. You’re single again and he’s quite easy on the eye. So I say, if you want to have a fling, then go for it. But be discreet.’

  ‘There’s nothing to go for, darling.’

  ‘No? You should tell him that,’ she said.

  ‘You can, uhm, sleep tight, Sarah. There is absolutely nothing going on between Connor and me. Nor will there ever be,’ I assured her.

  Not at this rate, anyhow.

  ‘He wants to sleep with you so badly, I can see it in the way he stands next to you, the way he touches you.’

  ‘I’m not sure this conversation has any bearing on reality, Sarah. You see things that aren’t there.’

  ‘Poor Dad,’ she continued. ‘How is he supposed to feel comfortable with Connor in the picture?’

  I sighed. ‘Sweetheart, for the record, Connor is just a friend. And you know what happened between your dad and me.’

  ‘Can’t you forgive him?’

  ‘No, Sarah. Even if I tried, I just couldn’t. I’d be lying. But don’t you worry. Your mum is nowhere near falling in love with anyone, let alone the tenant.’ And the nomination for Best Actress is… you guessed it – me.

  She shook her head. ‘I want you to be happy, but I don’t want you falling for someone who will end up hurting you.’

  ‘Darling – I’m not falling for anyone.’ I gently nudged her towards the hall. ‘Now go out and have some fun.’

  She studied me at length. ‘All right,’ she said finally. ‘It’s just the girls, anyway. Don’t wait up. And behave yourself.’

  ‘The girls?’ I said as I switched the kettle on. I was in need of a good strong brew. ‘Not a bloke, then.’

  She stopped. ‘Mum, you must be joking. After what Sam did to me? I’m off men for a bit.’

  ‘Okay, pet. Forgive me, I figured as much, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You too seem so lonely lately and you’re working hard most nights.’

  She shrugged. ‘You know I’m up for promotion, Mum. I have to work hard. Plus, it helps me be less angry.’

  ‘Sweetheart, if there’s anything you need…’

  ‘I know, Mum. Thanks. And you, too. If there’s anything I can do to help.’

  I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘With the girls and Nana.’

  ‘Thanks, love. You already help enough as it is. It’s my responsibility.’

  She snorted as she grabbed her bag and slid her feet into her pumps. ‘And Connor’s. He sure seems to have embraced his position in this family.’

  ‘Sarah, honey, Connor is a good tenant and friend. To all of us. Even you said you were starting to like him.’

  ‘I was – I am. He’s a great bloke, Mum. I do like him. But he’s not relationship material.’

  She sounded just like her dad. ‘I never said he was.’

  ‘Well, tell him. All he ever talks about is you.’

  ‘Nonsense, Sarah…’

  ‘It isn’t nonsense, Mum. You need to make sure you let him down gently afterwards.’

  Hello, where had this conversation come from? Relationship? And I had to let him down gently? He was the one with the mysterious girlfriend in town, and Sarah was worried about how he’d take my not wanting him? Huh. I must have really looked cool and calm on the outside. It was all part of my half-British stiff upper lip, I guess.

  But before I could comment, Connor’s soft humming – his usual way of letting us know he was around – echoed in the air.

  ‘Hey, how did it go?’ he asked as he came into the kitchen, a towel flung over his shoulder, his hair wet and giving me such a hot smile my bra burst into flames. It was a shame he was completely dressed.

  ‘Right. I’m off,’ Sarah said, grabbing her keys off the counter. ‘Thanks for taking the girls today, Connor.’

  ‘No problem, Sarah. I enjoyed it.’

  Sarah gave me a ‘Remember What I Said’ look, and left.

  I waited until I heard her car leave and then I turned to Connor.

  ‘It was an absolute bloodbath,’ I answered, my cheeks burning at the thought of writing about him as my toy boy.

  ‘Please tell me they didn’t fire you,’ he said, joining his hands in a plea. ‘I can’t give me mam that kind of bad news. She’s your number-one fan.’

  ‘Well, thank your mam for me,’ I said as I turned to the forgotten kettle and made two cups of coffee. ‘But unless I can write what they want, then I definitely get the boot.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said as I passed him his mug and we both sat down at the kitchen table. ‘What is it they want, so?’

  My eyes met his. ‘An article about toy boys. Precisely, m-my toy boy.’

  His dark eyebrows shot up.

  ‘Maggie – when she saw us on the coastal path yesterday, when I had that thing in my eye? She got the wrong idea and actually, uhm… gave my boss a suggestion for a new column for me.’

  He said nothing, just blowing softly into his coffee and studying me. He must have really thought I was a pure-bred loser. I plodded on. It was now or never.

  ‘She… she thought that if I could write about having a new – younger – boyfriend, it would save me from getting fired during this whole rehashing of staff.’

  ‘Would it? Help?’ he asked as he attempted a sip.

  I shrugged. ‘Octavia – my boss – has made it very clear to me that if I don’t do it, she’ll sack me.’

  I took a long, long drink from my coffee, wondering how to get out of this one. If I could have crawled into my mug and disappeared and reappeared into a parallel universe where this wasn’t happening, I definitely would have. Because except for writing, I wasn’t good at much, according to Neil.

  Connor looked at me and blew out air from his cheeks, his eyes mirroring the magnitude of what I was asking him. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Connor, I don’t even know why I’m telling you. It’s so bloody embarrassing.’

  And there was his usual stubble-caressing gesture again. If you didn’t know him you’d think that it was a ruse or a device to attract attention, but I now recognised it for what it was. Shyness. How I longed to reach out and caress his face myself, but that would be creepy from his landlady.

 
‘Well, Nat, I’d be embarrassed if I were her, to underestimate a main contributor like you. I don’t even think she actually understands how many fans you have,’ he said, getting to his feet to go to the goodie cupboard and retrieving the biscuits, which he put onto a plate between us.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said as I reached for one.

  ‘Thank me later,’ he said.

  I looked up at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Once you’ve given her what she wants and you get your own column back.’

  ‘You mean you don’t mind me making up… oh, no, you know what? I don’t think I can do it…’ I chickened out.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you’re not—’

  ‘Not your toy boy?’ He laughed. ‘Well, I certainly hope not. Nat, this is about your financial independence, yes?’

  I put my biscuit down, wondering where this was going. ‘Yes. But there’s more. There’s a black-tie benefit later this week and she’d expect you to accompany me.’

  He reached across the table to take my hand and it was like sticking my fingers into a blazing fire. Hot flashes enveloped me instantly. Why did he always have this effect on me?

  ‘So let’s give them what they want. Something to talk about.’

  ‘Oh, I…’ I eyed him doubtfully. ‘You really think so? You’d really do that?’

  ‘Why not? Does the idea of holding my hand and kissing me sound that terrible? Your own mum would beg to differ.’ His eyes were twinkling and teasing now, and I didn’t know what to do with him. Or rather, I did have an inkling of an idea, but that thought was off-limits.

  ‘Er… no, of course not,’ I managed. ‘But I’m a grown woman.’

  ‘And I’m a grown man. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘The fact that you could be my baby brother?’

  Again, he laughed and tiny laugh lines crinkled at the corner of his dark eyes. It really was his default mode. ‘Nonsense. What are you, thirty-six, thirty-seven? You must have been a baby yourself when you had Sarah.’

  I checked his face for traces of sarcasm or shambolic tendencies, but there were none. He really believed I was that close to his age. So who was I to burst his bubble?

  ‘Uh-huh,’ I lied. I don’t know why, but instead of laughing and telling him my real age, I let the moment pass. And now I’d really done it. I’d definitively lowered the barrier between lodger and landlady. Now he might think all sorts of things of me. Finally.