Dreams of a Little Cornish Cottage

by Nancy Barone

  Ah – so no news on Lavender Cottage yet. Excellent. ‘How’s tomorrow morning at ten?’ I suggested. The girls would be at school and Mum would be up. They could take pictures of her room first so she could have her nap when she wanted.

  ‘Perfect. I’ll bring my equipment to make a video tour and take some shots.’

  ‘See you then.’ When I hung up, I felt strangely elated.

  ‘You’re doing the right thing, Nat,’ Connor said.

  I nodded. ‘I know. People would kill for a house like that, but to me it’s only bad memories of Neil.’

  Connor studied me kindly. ‘I told you, he wants you back. Big time. And he’s willing to wait.’

  I shrugged. ‘Well, he’s going to have a long wait.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear,’ he said, winking at me. Oh, one more flirt and I would absolutely throttle him. Or, worse, kiss him again.

  ‘Connor!’ Amy called from the rock pools. ‘Are you coming or what?’

  ‘Catch ya later,’ he said with a grin and then jogged over to where the twins were crouched, scanning the pools for a catch, like two tiny seagulls.

  What did he care who I ended up with? It was as clear as day that he wasn’t interested in a fling or a romantic relationship. He’d had countless chances to start something, and if he hadn’t, it was simply because there was nothing to tell. He saw me as a friend, and that was that. So why didn’t my little breaking heart understand that?

  Exhausted of waiting for a catch (believe me, I knew how they felt) the girls decided to run to the end of the beach. Connor and I lagged behind, just enjoying being out in the sun.

  ‘Hi, Nat; hi, Connor,’ John Baird, the recently divorced school caretaker, saluted as he strolled by us.

  ‘Hi John,’ I said, ‘This is, uh, Con—’

  ‘Hi, mate,’ he saluted, high-fiving him, slowing down long enough to say, ‘I did like you said, by the way.’

  ‘And did it work?’ Connor wanted to know.

  John shrugged, but a huge smile spread across his fair face. ‘Looks like it. Can’t thank you enough, mate.’

  ‘Sure, any time,’ Connor answered, his eyes sheepishly swinging to mine. ‘See ya.’

  ‘You know John?’ I asked.

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet. ‘Yes. I uhm, gave him the number of my divorce lawyer.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I hope he’s good.’

  ‘She. My lawyer was a she.’

  ‘Right.’

  And then silence fell between us again. I took a deep breath, absorbing everything around me, from the salt air to the cry of the gulls to the green cliffs kneeling to the sea in a gesture of reverence. ‘I really love it here…’ I whispered.

  He breathed in deeply. ‘I can’t think of anything more beautiful than Cornwall.’ He grinned. ‘Well, maybe just one thing.’

  I smiled inwardly, but said nothing as warm tingles of pleasure danced around my face.

  We spent a good hour strolling down the golden sandy beach, chasing seagulls and breathing in the fresh, salty air that clung to my hair and lips. Connor was his usual friendly self, giving the girls piggyback rides, running off with them into the distance under the turquoise sky that wouldn’t have been out of place in the Mediterranean. If paradise had a branch on earth, it was certainly Cornwall.

  When we got back in, Connor brought us some iced tea and gently rubbed Mum’s shoulders. ‘How’s that, love?’

  She placed her hand on his, gripping his fingers. ‘Hmm, nice. Strong hands. I wonder what else you can do with them.’

  ‘Mum!’ At this point I was beyond mortification. I just wanted to zap myself into nothingness.

  But Connor only chuckled. ‘You keep flirting with me like you do and you’ll leave me no choice but to tell you,’ he said and Mum clapped her hands in sheer delight. ‘You naughty boy, you!’

  He tapped the front of his forehead. ‘Oh, I forgot the lemons. You see, Beryl? You start batting your baby blues at me and I go and forget everything – including myself.’

  I watched him as he sauntered across the patio and through the orangery into the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, isn’t he absolutely luscious?’ Mum said. ‘You should go for him.’

  I almost choked on my drink. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you, Yolanda. I bet he’d love to cook your eggs.’

  Yolanda, always Yolanda. I sighed at the sheer irony of it. I was the one killing myself here for our mother while she was on the other side of the world caring only about herself and her career as usual.

  *

  The next day after I dropped the kids off at school, I stopped over at The Rising Bun to pick up some dessert for after dinner, and maybe a treat to get me through the day. I was feeling peckish although I’d just had breakfast. Could it be I was subsuming my other desires?

  Oh, get over yourself, Natalia, my inner voice said. And don’t be so pathetic. The bloke is off-limits. Find something else to do. Which was what, alongside my sweet tooth, had brought me here to The Rising Bun today.

  I grabbed a cup of cappuccino and wolfed down a chocolate doughnut as I browsed the selection of cakes. There was no end to Dora’s talents: carrot cake, lemon drizzle, peanut butter cheesecake, Victoria sponge, chocolate brownies and almond cake among many others. I would have taken them all home with me where I would take care of them and shelter them under my beautiful glass cake bells. I’d look at them every day and they would nourish me and feed my sadness.

  But I had to set a good example for the girls, so in the end I opted just for one thing: a huge, chocolate mousse. Feed a fever, starve a cold, I knew that much, but what did one do with a rampaging attraction?

  At the till, Felicity was there as usual, and also as gorgeous as usual and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. I had been suspicious of her for some time now, mainly because she was the most beautiful girl in the village. What if I was right and it really was her? If I were a bloke with any woman in Wyllow Cove at my disposal, I’d definitely chose lovely Felicity, no bones about it. She was a great baker, had the smile of an angel and always had a kind word for everyone.

  ‘Hi, Nat,’ Dora called as I came in. ‘Oh, that Connor is such a lovely chap, isn’t he?’

  Yes, I was sure she’d think so, with Felicity on the shelf.

  ‘Felicity thinks the world of him.’

  Was it so obvious to everyone in Wyllow Cove that Connor and I actually were not a couple? Apparently we were only a ‘thing’ for the media, but not in real life. There was no fooling my villagers.

  ‘I don’t know what we would’ve done without him,’ Dora continued. ‘I only hope that Felicity will be accepted over in Dublin.’

  She was meeting his parents?

  ‘Oh, I’m, uhm, sure she will be,’ I stammered.

  ‘Hi, Nat,’ she said, eyeing me as I washed down my doughnut with the dregs of my cappuccino.

  ‘Hey, Felicity, how’s it going?’ I managed.

  ‘Good, good, thanks. How’s Connor?’

  Bingo. Was she sussing me out to see if I knew about them? I cleared my throat. ‘He’s fine, thanks. Why don’t you call him and ask him yourself?’

  ‘I will, when we get the results back. We’re a bit on edge, you understand.’

  Results? Oh my God in heaven. I scratched my head. ‘Sorry, Uhm. Did you just say… results?’

  She grinned. ‘Connor helped me apply to a course at Trinity College. I’m awaiting their response any day now.’

  ‘Oh!’ Thank God! ‘Well, good luck, Felicity.’

  ‘And to you, Nat. You two make a lovely couple. I’m so happy for you.’ Then she looked around and muttered, ‘I never liked Neil.’

  ‘Oh. Uhm, thank you,’ was all I could think of in response. Ah. So if there was a mysterious girl to be spoken of, it was not Felicity. One down. Another thirty to go, based on my calculations of eligible women.

  I paid for my mousse and left, deciding to make a quick tour of the
village, blushing as everyone waved knowingly at me. One lady, Dawn Hawkins, who ran the pet shop, even gave me a knowing thumbs up and a wink. Two down. How the heck was I going to find out who my competition was? At this point every single (and married) woman was a possibility.

  ‘Hi, Nat!’ came a call from behind me. I turned to see Joe Tehidy, the owner of the angling shop.

  ‘Hi Joe! Is it a good day for a catch?’

  He looked up at the sky. ‘Just as good as any. How’s Connor?’

  ‘You know Connor?’

  He blanched. ‘What? No, not really. My wife told me his name and that he’s living with you. Talk about good catches, eh?’

  What the hell was going on? Was I on Candid Camera and didn’t know it? Or was there such a thing as The Amore Show and I was the unknowing main character? This was all so surreal. Everyone knew Connor. Only I didn’t know Connor – at least not as much as I would have liked to.

  Exhausted by all the possibilities and calculations of who might be his woman, I reached the quay and fell onto a bench, my bag at my side and the mousse on my lap. A seagull came to investigate and I jumped and the mousse slid off my knees, but I lurched forward to grab it and caught it just in time before it upturned and splatted on the pavement, my fingers digging into a corner of the dessert. That had been close. With my index finger I scooped up the sweet goo and stuck it into my mouth. Hmm, it was especially good today.

  So if it wasn’t Felicity and it wasn’t Dawn, who the heck was it? If I only knew what kind of woman he liked, I’d have a better chance at finding out who my rival was. Listen to me. I was already using the R word. Was I presumptuous or what?

  There was still some chocolate on the side of the lid, probably the main reason why that seagull was still lingering, eyeing me maliciously. So I scooped up that, too.

  Whoever this mysterious woman was, she was not my rival in the least. I mean, I wasn’t hers. There was literally no contest, because Connor had come here to Wyllow Cove especially for her. I wasn’t even in the picture. I was only the landlady. The thought sobered me tremendously and suddenly I felt defeat looming over me like a dark shadow.

  I surreptitiously stuck my finger along the side of the mousse and carved out a tiny dollop so it would still be presentable for dinner. Okay, so even if I knew her identity, there was absolutely nothing I could do. I was not a couple-buster, having been on the other end and not wishing that kind of pain on anyone.

  I took another dollop to my lips and almost swooned at the pleasure. Somebody somewhere had definitely overrated sex. They should try Dora’s cakes and rephrase their claim. Or maybe they’d simply had a better partner than Neil. Self-sufficient (in every way, towards the end), arrogant Neil was never even a spark in bed, let alone fireworks like you read in novels. Oh, how I longed for that feeling.

  But for now, all I had was dessert, and I was using two fingers to scoop it into my mouth. If my luck was anything to go by, I’d have to rely solely on my own attraction for Connor to even begin to get a sense of what he would be like to make love with. If even the sole thought of having sex with that Irish Apollo made my heart do the Riverdance, I could only imagine how many times I’d die if we ever actually came skin to skin, eye to eye, mouth to mouth for real, and not just the fake, albeit delicious, kiss we’d shared at the black-tie benefit.

  As my fingers went to take another scoop of mousse, I looked down and realised I had literally carved the mousse out from the sides, and before I knew it, it slowly, inexorably collapsed upon itself like a giant chocolate sinkhole.

  ‘Oh, no…’ I moaned. I had absolutely no self-control anymore. What the heck was wrong with me? I was never one to pity myself, but, as I watched this former beauty slide to one side, I couldn’t help but think that this mousse was like my problems. I’d picked at it from every side, unable to attack it directly, afraid of acknowledging that, yes, I wanted to attack it viciously and get rid of it – via my mouth. Some passers-by gave me a funny look, but said nothing. What could you say to a woman sitting on her own in public devouring a chocolate mousse twice her size?

  And the not so funny thing was that I couldn’t stop. Scoop after scoop, I ate the whole bloody thing, even as my throat began to constrict, I just shoved it all down, just like my fears, my worries and my beefs. And in a few minutes, it was gone – even the last smears at the bottom, the tray shining like new.

  I didn’t have the guts to go back in there and buy another one, so I went to the supermarket and bought some ice cream instead, hoping that with the chocolate sauce I still had somewhere in the pantry that it would be enough. Maybe even crumble some Oreo biscuits in there to make it look like I’d actually tried.

  On my way to pick up the girls from school I dabbed at my mouth and tried to calm down. I hadn’t been this upset since I saw Neil with his bit on the side, and I realised that I couldn’t let a rival reduce me. Besides, I couldn’t let my nieces see me like this. So I stopped the car by the side of the road and pulled out a bottle of water and splashed my face fresh again.

  I got home, composed myself and checked on Mum who was watching the tail of her favourite morning show.

  ‘I’m back, Mum, is everything all right?’

  ‘Super,’ she said, not taking her eyes off the screen. ‘Connor’s made me lunch.’

  ‘But it’s only eleven o’clock,’ I said.

  She shrugged. ‘I was hungry.’

  ‘That was nice of him. What did he make you?’

  ‘An egg-mayonnaise sandwich,’ she said. ‘Shush now, I want to hear the end of this.’

  I sighed under my breath and went into the hall to listen for Connor. All I could hear was faint tapping on a keyboard, and then his mobile chirped discreetly. I heard him answer, and then chuckle. Was it her, my nemesis? I didn’t want to pry. It was none of my business, so I went back to my second desk in the orangery and turned my laptop on. And stared at a blank screen. Now what? Should I have written about the dangers of eating too many sweets? And speaking of such, my stomach began to complain. It served me right for being such an out-of-control glutton.

  Maybe I should write an article about self-control, or the lack thereof. Because, among other things, I was dying to go back into the hall and find out if he was talking to her. As if it would make her identity more obvious.

  But I stayed with my arse glued to my chair, determined to be a proper landlady in every way, although I think I’d already passed that boundary when I’d asked him to be my pretend toy boy. Which made me wonder – had he told her about this favour he was doing me? And was she okay with it? If so, she must really trust him. Or, au contraire, had he kept things on the quiet, seeing as one night in London could be justified with a vague work excuse?

  As I still stared at my blank screen, Connor came downstairs. ‘You’re back – hi,’ he said, sticking his head into the kitchen.

  On the counter, I noticed a familiar bag, the sight of which made me want to hurl. Or faint, whichever came first.

  I groaned. ‘You went to Dora’s too?’

  He stopped and looked at me as if caught in the act. Bingo! He shrugged, scratching his face as he did when he was embarrassed or put on the spot. ‘I’ve got a very sweet tooth.’

  I groaned inwardly.

  ‘Look, I’m just popping out, so I won’t be around for lunch.’

  Lunch. With who? That was it. I was absolute toast.

  I turned in my chair and gave him a smile so dazzling I might have cracked a tooth. ‘Hot date?’ I said, my lips stretching.

  He looked at me funny. ‘Your face…’

  I stopped smiling. ‘What do you mean?’

  He came into the room to peer down at me, his face so close to mine that I actually thought he was going to kiss me. Oh, God, the glint in his eye – he really was going to kiss me!

  I sat up straight in my chair, not wanting to look like a slouching slob, as he reached out with a long finger and slowly caressed my bottom lip, back and forth. Oh, the sex
ual charge of his touch!

  ‘You’ve got chocolate on your lip,’ he said with a grin.

  I slouched again. ‘Oh. Thanks.’

  And I watched, sitting up again, as he stuck his index into his own mouth and licked it off, his eyes never leaving mine in a naughty, naughty message that said, Get your kit off now. Oh. My. God.

  My pulse shot straight for the stars and I don’t know how I didn’t just collapse at his feet. Actually, I was feeling kind of funny. Not hilarious funny, but dizzy. I tried to fight it as his face began to dance in front of me and split into two. And then I saw nothing else.

  *

  The next thing I knew I was waking up in Connor’s arms.

  Wait, how had I managed to get here and not remember one single, luscious moment of it?

  But we weren’t in my bedroom, or his, for that matter, and the bed was not a bed. It was hard.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ he was saying.

  I looked up at him, trying to focus. I was lying on the kitchen floor with my feet up, cradled by Connor’s strong arms.

  ‘Hi,’ I whispered. ‘What’s happened?’

  He exhaled in relief. ‘You gave me a bloody heart attack, that’s what’s happened,’ he murmured, caressing my face.

  In the distance, I could hear a wailing sound. I tried to get up, but his large hand on my chest gently pushed me down again.

  ‘Easy there, luv,’ he said. ‘That’s the ambulance. Do not move,’ he warned me as he got up to open the front door. ‘She’s in here, thanks,’ he said, and two women darted to my side, one strapping a blood pressure reader around my arm while the other one ripped my shirt open and applied a stethoscope to my chest and I cringed as Connor got a view of my generous bosom.

  ‘I’m fine, now,’ I said, trying to sit up but the woman with the stethoscope pushed me back down.

  ‘We’ll be the judges of that,’ she reassured me, only to nod at the other woman who said ‘One twenty over eighty. Perfect. What were you doing when you collapsed?’

  Being kissed by a hot man, I wanted to say. ‘Nothing. Just talking to my friend Connor.’

  ‘Were you having sex?’ she insisted.