by Ali McNamara
‘Okay, okay, take that look off your face. I’m sorry. Of course I don’t want anyone else. You’ve been most helpful… so far.’
Malachi nods, and seems to readily accept my apology.
‘But that doesn’t change the fact I can’t just chuck everything in and live here while the renovations are going on.’
‘Why can’t you? You just told me earlier how free your job allows you to be. Why can’t you do it from here if you’re so freelance?’
I think about this. I didn’t actually have all that much on in the next few weeks – not that needed me to be in London anyway. I had a couple of big projects I needed to get finished but no meetings. I could work on my laptop and over the internet easily enough. Perhaps taking some time away might actually be helpful.
‘And these things you need to take care of,’ Malachi continues, ‘what are they – pot plants?’
I look at him. Scarily he was spot on. I had no pets, children or boyfriend that needed tending to. I was actually a lot freer than I cared to admit.
‘Perhaps I could stay for a while,’ I reply, choosing to ignore his jibe.
‘Great!’ Malachi grins. ‘We’d better find you somewhere to stay then.’
‘Oh no, I’m sure I can do that. I’ll ask Rita if she has any rooms free.’
‘She won’t have,’ Malachi states without hesitation. ‘They’re fully booked.’
‘And how could you possibly know that?’
Malachi shrugs. ‘Why don’t you ask her?’
‘I will!’ I stand up and go over to the bar. After a short conversation with Rita, I return to the table.
‘Well?’ Malachi asks, his eyes shining.
‘She is booked up —’
‘Told ya!’
‘If you’d let me continue… but she thinks she knows someone who might have a cottage for let.’
‘There now! You’re all sorted.’
‘Possibly. I’ll have to wait and see about the cottage first – that might be booked up too.’
‘It’ll be grand,’ Malachi says confidently. ‘You worry too much.’
‘And you are very sure of yourself,’ I tell him. ‘How did you know the pub would be booked up?’
‘Ah…’ Malachi says, draining the last of his pint. ‘If I tell you that, you’d know all me secrets, wouldn’t ye?’
‘Hardly.’
‘’Tis easy.’ He leans in conspiratorially towards me, and I get another whiff of his fabulous scent – it’s like no aftershave I’ve ever smelt on a man, not that I get close enough to many to know these days.
Malachi looks either side of him. ‘School holidays next week, isn’t it?’ he whispers. ‘They were bound to be fully booked.’ He grins. ‘What were you thinking I am, some sort of soothsayer?’
I roll my eyes.
‘Another drink?’ Malachi asks, lifting his empty glass.
‘Actually, I was thinking of getting some food.’ My Belgian bun seems a long time ago now, and my stomach has started to complain. ‘Would you care to join me?’ I ask more from politeness than want. Malachi was fast becoming one of the most irritating people I’d ever met, even if he was quite fun too. However, I didn’t want to sit here alone and have dinner, and he was the only person I knew in St Felix.
‘I like your style.’ Malachi gives a small bow and a flourish of his hand. ‘I should be delighted, my lady!’
‘You are such a loon!’ I say standing up. ‘My round,’ I add, grabbing his glass before he can complain. ‘I’ll get us some menus while I’m there.’
I order us both a drink, and I ask Richie, Rita’s husband, for two menus, one of which I peruse while I’m waiting for Malachi’s Guinness to settle.
‘Hello,’ a voice next to me says.
I turn to see a tall man with glasses smiling nervously at me. ‘I hear I have you to thank for saving my dog today?’
‘Oh, hello!’ I say, recognising Noah from last night. ‘Well, I didn’t save her exactly. Let’s just say she’d got a bit overconfident off her lead!’
‘Clarice is usually a little too overconfident in every situation! But thank you anyway, Jess said you were very helpful.’
‘No worries. Really.’
‘I didn’t think I’d get to thank you properly. People tend to pass through St Felix pretty quickly. Then I saw you here at the bar and I thought I’d take my chance.’
I nod. This was beginning to feel a little awkward. I glance back at Malachi and I see he’s grinning at me. He gives me a sly wink.
‘Are you staying here long?’ Noah asks. ‘Or just passing through?’
‘Longer than I first thought,’ I reply, suddenly deciding to give Noah my full attention. ‘I’m actually looking for somewhere to rent – like a holiday let?’ I add, in case he thinks I’m moving here. ‘I don’t suppose you know of anywhere?’
I figure two possible leads are better than one, and Rita’s might not come to anything.
‘Funnily enough, I do. Poppy, who owns the flower shop on Harbour Street, has a cottage she rents out. I was in her shop this morning buying some flowers and I heard her say that the people who were due to rent next week have pulled out at the last minute in very odd circumstances. I’m sure she won’t have been able to re-let it already. Perhaps you could pop along to see her?’
For reasons I don’t understand I find myself wondering who Noah was buying flowers for, instead of jumping at the opportunity of a holiday cottage.
‘Yes!’ I suddenly reply, in the midst of my musings. ‘I mean, yes, that sounds ideal. I’ll do that first thing tomorrow, thank you.’
‘No need to wait until then if you don’t want to,’ Noah says helpfully. ‘Poppy’s husband Jake is over there. We could ask him if you like? I know him quite well.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother him when he’s having a drink,’ I say, looking over towards a tall sandy-haired man standing by the bar. ‘I’m sure tomorrow will be fine.’
‘Up to you, of course, but hotel rooms and self-catering properties don’t tend to stay vacant for long here in St Felix.’
Richie places Malachi’s Guinness down next to my Diet Coke and I pick up the two glasses. ‘Thanks, Richie.’
‘Oh, are you with someone?’ Noah asks, looking at the two glasses. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise.’
‘Only Malachi,’ I say, nodding in his general direction. ‘He’s the mechanic looking after Bob’s Bangers while Bob is away.’
‘Ah…’ Noah looks over towards where I’m gesturing, but there are quite a few people filling the bar now and his view is blocked. ‘I can’t really see who you mean, but I don’t think I’ve met him. The name doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘I think he’s new to St Felix,’ I explain. ‘Look, shall I take these drinks over to our table, and then perhaps you’d be kind enough to introduce me to this Jake? I can introduce you to Malachi afterwards if you like?’
I push my way through the crowds to Malachi carrying the drinks and deposit them on the table.
‘You don’t waste any time, do you?’ Malachi says, grinning at me again.
‘How do you mean?’ I ask, pulling the menus from under my arm.
‘You and Noah over there – very cosy!’
‘We are not very cosy. Noah might know someone who has a cottage, that’s all – he’s going to introduce me to the owner’s husband.’
‘Then it’s him who’s the fast mover!’
‘Stop!’ I tell him. ‘It’s not like that. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Why don’t you look at the menu while I’m gone?’ I’m about to walk back towards Noah, but I pause and turn back. ‘Noah said just now you two hadn’t met before, so how did you know his name?’
‘Been in his shop,’ Malachi says, picking up a menu. ‘I guessed.’
‘Oh, oh, all right then. I’ll just be a couple of minutes, okay?’
‘Take all the time you need!’ Malachi answers, waving his hand dismissively. ‘I have all the time in the w
orld.’
When I turn back towards the bar I find Noah isn’t where I left him, but has made his way over towards Jake and is already in conversation with him.
I wander over feeling a bit awkward.
‘This is the lady in question,’ Noah says, welcoming me to the group.
‘Hi, sorry to bother you,’ I say apologetically. ‘My name’s Ana.’
‘Jake,’ he says, holding out his hand. ‘And you’re in luck, our cottage is still free. Well, it was when I left home – my wife was still fretting about letting it. She really shouldn’t be in her condition,’ he says to Noah. ‘But what can you do? I try to keep her from stressing but she still wants to be in control of everything. She’s pregnant,’ he says, turning back to me. ‘Due in two weeks.’
‘Yes, I heard,’ I tell him. ‘I met her colleague outside the bakery. She’d been buying pasties.’
‘That would be Amber. I think we spend all our time in that bakery. Poppy can’t get enough of a Cornish pasty right now. She’ll be beating old Stan’s record soon if she’s not careful, God rest his soul.’
I glance at Noah. He shrugs.
‘Oh, sorry, is that before your time, Noah? I forget you haven’t been here that long. Stan was an old chap who could eat a dozen giant Cornish pasties in one sitting – he held a record here in St Felix. Quite a character,’ Jake says wistfully. ‘I miss the old fella.’
‘I do remember him actually,’ Noah says. ‘He came into my shop not long after I’d taken it on. He was full of what turned out to be very helpful advice about St Felix and its history.’
‘He loved his stories, did Stan. Anyway,’ Jake says, smiling at me, ‘if you’d take the cottage on, you’d actually be doing me a huge favour. Hopefully Poppy will stop worrying about it if we have a tenant. How long did you want it for?’
‘Oh, I – I’m not too sure. How long is it available?’
‘Three weeks. The person who was due to take it is an artist – they were coming to St Felix, as so many do, to paint, but they had an unfortunate accident with a ladder and a cat apparently.’ He shrugs. ‘They fell and broke their wrist so, no painting!’
‘Three weeks will be perfect,’ I tell him, wondering if it will be. ‘When can I see it?’
‘The current tenants move out tomorrow, Saturday, so by all means pop along and take a look then. No pressure if you don’t want to take it, but it’s in pretty good nick. Poppy lists it on one of those boutique cottage websites and they have pretty high standards.’
‘I’m sure it will be absolutely fine,’ I say, wondering in my head how expensive this was going to be. ‘Thank you so much for this – both of you.’ I turn to Noah now. ‘You’ve both been very kind.’
‘Not a problem,’ Noah says, ‘I guess we’re even now.’ He holds out his hand. ‘You saved my dog, and I saved —’
‘— my bacon,’ I finish, shaking his hand. ‘Thanks!’ I look back over towards Malachi. ‘I guess I’d better be getting back to my… to Malachi. Do you want to come over?’
‘No.’ Noah glances quickly towards the table, then back at me. ‘I wouldn’t want to intrude.’
I nod, pleased I don’t have to introduce them. I wasn’t quite sure what Malachi might say. ‘I’ll be sure to pop into your shop if I’m passing.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Noah says, and suddenly we both realise he’s still holding my hand.
Noah hastily releases my hand; we smile awkwardly at each other, then I hurry back over to Malachi, my face still flushed.
‘Well,’ Malachi says, as I sit down opposite him and hurriedly pick up a menu. ‘Three handsome men in one night. Like I said, fast mover!’
I look over the top of my menu at him, and decide instead of arguing to play him at his own game for once.
‘I assume the three men you’re referring to are Noah, Jake and…’
Malachi grins smugly as he waits for me to say his name.
‘Richie behind the bar?’ I offer triumphantly, and I grin into my menu at the part-amused, part-horrified expression that appears on Malachi’s expectant face.
Seven
The next morning I awake in my room at The Merry Mermaid feeling quite positive about the day ahead.
Last night, Malachi and I had eaten together in the bar, and once I’d got used to his often erratic behaviour, I’d quite begun to warm to his company. Underneath the constant jibes and carefree ways was a very smart, perceptive individual, and I enjoyed listening to his amusing and spot-on observations about life.
Noah had stayed for a short while in the bar, just long enough for him to finish his pint with Jake, and then he’d left, waving casually to me on his way out. I had tried not to watch him too much while he’d been in the pub, but I’d often found my eyes wandering in his direction.
I’d told Malachi about Jake’s offer of a cottage, and he thoroughly approved, saying he thought three weeks might just be enough time for his mission – as he’d curiously named the renovations to the van.
After breakfast, I set off in search of Jake and Poppy’s holiday cottage. Before Jake had left the pub, he’d popped over to our table and told me exactly where to find the house so I could take a look before committing to anything.
I find the prettily named Snowdrop Cottage on a narrow cobbled street leading up from the harbour. The bright red geraniums cheerfully planted in azure blue window boxes, which match perfectly the bright blue of the front door, turn this terraced fisherman’s cottage into a colourful and welcoming home. I take a quick peek through the front window and see a small but modern kitchen with all the latest appliances standing on granite worktops. A box of cleaning equipment rests in the centre of the wooden kitchen table, and there is an unused mop and bucket filled with soapy water standing in the middle of the floor.
I look at my watch – it’s just gone 10.30 a.m. The previous inhabitants must have left and the cleaners are getting ready for the next set of holiday-makers to arrive, I think, as I stare through the window at the quaint little cottage.
A woman pushing an unplugged hoover suddenly appears in the kitchen. I swiftly try to move away from the window without her seeing me, but she spots me and waves. Then she beckons me over as she goes to the front door and opens it.
‘Hello, dear,’ she says, smiling. ‘Are you Ana by any chance?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Ah, good. I’m Doris. Jake told me to expect you. Would you like to come in and look around?’
‘Sure, yes, that would be great. Thank you.’
Doris leads me through the front door and gives me a very quick tour of the kitchen. Then we go through to a small twin-bedded room with wooden beds covered in pretty floral duvets. In the tiny hall there is a narrow staircase which leads up to a second bedroom – a king-size bed this time, with clean, crisp white bedding that Doris has obviously just changed. This room has modern Swedish-style furniture making it feel light and airy. Next to the bedroom Doris opens a door and leads me through into a light, bright living area.
‘The living room is up here because of the view,’ she says, walking over to a pair of French windows, which are already open, allowing a fresh breeze to pour into the room. ‘Come and see.’
I follow her over to the window and out on to a tiny balcony which commands stunning sea views over one of the bays that I’d discovered on my walk yesterday.
‘Wow!’ I exclaim. ‘I didn’t expect this.’
‘It’s one of its selling points,’ Doris says proudly, ‘gets a lovely bit of sun most of the day. Poppy doesn’t usually have much trouble renting this place out – you’re lucky she’s had a cancellation.’
Twice on one trip it seems. It makes a nice change to be on Lady Luck’s good side.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, gazing out at the sea. ‘I’m surprised she doesn’t want to live here herself. I’m sure I would if I owned a house like this.’
‘It was Poppy’s grandmother’s originally,’ Doris says. ‘Poppy did l
ive here for a while after her grandmother died, but when she moved in with Jake she went to live in his house – it’s much bigger, see, what with him having kids already.’
Doris was obviously one of these people who liked to share all the information she had with you.
‘She’s pregnant now, isn’t she?’ I ask politely. Doris had been so nice in showing me around, I was sure she’d have something to say about it.
‘Ooh, yes,’ Doris coos, ‘so she is. It was lovely news when I heard. I can’t wait to meet the little one. I’ve already knitted four pairs of bootees and two matinee jackets.’