Snowflakes Over Holly Cove

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘In an ironic twist, Clarissa was right. If she was worried the little depression I’d sunk into would affect my work, then putting me in a totally new and surreal environment gives me plenty to occupy my mind. I have to admire the woman, despite my reservations. She knows how to get the best out of her employees. And while I remember, can you make sure the photographer emails me before he visits any of the interviewees, so I can specify a few particular shots I need him to get? Otherwise this very Christmassy feature will end up with no glitter at all.’

  ‘Will do; sorry, I should have known that. It’s not easy thinking of Christmas at this time of the year. Anyway, I’m glad this idea of Clarissa’s was the right thing to do, even though her motive wasn’t purely about what’s best for you. She’s just finished her call, I’ll put you through. Good luck.’

  While I’m waiting, my ears are subjected to the jangly sounds of something I don’t recognise, but is probably in the charts. It makes me feel old and out of touch not being able to name the artist. I realise that in the last few years I’ve cut virtually everything out of my life if it didn’t involve work. When was the last time I dated, even? Sadly, I’d have to give that a lot of thought—

  ‘Tia, good to hear from you. How is the Gower Coast?’

  She’s in a good mood and at least that bodes well.

  ‘It’s great, just the tonic I needed. I’ve begun interviewing and am working on the first article.’

  ‘Any ideas yet for the replacement couple?’

  As usual, straight to the point.

  ‘I’m looking at options.’

  ‘Already? You have settled in quickly and hit the ground running, by the sound of it. I will admit I’m missing you here, but when you get back I need you to be one hundred per cent fit.’

  Stable, is the word she chose not to use.

  ‘I was kicking around the idea of coming at it from a slightly different angle to wrap up the feature. Judging by the first couple, I think you’ll be delighted as they are literally the perfect grab life and run with it type. The sort of thing many people dream of achieving. With the interviews lined up there’s a fair spread of age and social status, so we’re pretty much covered for the widest audience possible. How about turning it around for that last one and looking at love lost, as well? The impact it has on the way someone approaches the dawning of a new year?’

  There’s a moment or two of silence as Clarissa mulls over the idea. Her brain will be evaluating the pros and cons like a microchip processes information.

  ‘I like it. If you can make it work, we’ll go with it. But I’ll reserve my judgement until I’ve seen the finished article.’

  ‘That’s a deal; I appreciate your trust, Clarissa, thank you.’

  10

  Reeling Him In

  Checking the schedule Hayley sent me, I have the first of the next round of interviews this afternoon. I’m talking to the guy first, as his partner isn’t available until Friday. I pull their file up and begin trawling through, making notes as I go.

  A couple of hours pass before my back begins to ache and I have to stretch my legs. I wander into the sitting room and glance out of the window, but the beach is deserted, as usual. In fact, if I saw anyone I didn’t recognise, I’d probably be concerned. I spot something moving out of the corner of my eye and I see Olwen’s car pulling up adjacent to the cottage. I wave, walk over to unlock the door and go back into the kitchen to pop the kettle on.

  ‘Morning. Thought I’d come a little early and give the place a quick clean. Just a dust and a mop through. I won’t disturb your work, I promise and I’ll be as quiet as I can.’

  I’m not even sure it needs doing, but Olwen has a job and I don’t want her to feel I don’t appreciate her time.

  ‘Great, thanks. Do you have a key, in case I’m not here at any time?’

  She manoeuvres a small trolley on wheels, laden with cleaning materials, into the corner of the kitchen. Slipping off her coat, she takes a seat at the table and I place a mug of coffee in front of her.

  ‘Yes, Nic had one cut for me. He was surprised when I approached him, but pleased, I think. At that point, he wasn’t sure what sort of tenant you’d be. He’s more relaxed now you’re here.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to him?’

  ‘Oh, I see him all the time. Besides driving a taxi, he’s also a reporter for the local paper. He’s into photography, as well and I think he sells some of his photos. Quite an interesting man, all round.’

  I take my mug and join Olwen at the table. This is just the opportunity I’d been hoping for and I’m going to grab it while I can.

  ‘Nic kindly let me accompany him and Sid on their walk to Langland Bay, the other day. It was a nice little trek.’

  Olwen smiles, knowingly.

  ‘Lots of long silences, I suspect. He’s a man who enjoys his own company and his own thoughts.’

  The look she casts my way is meaningful.

  ‘To be honest, I’m surprised he doesn’t have a partner in tow. The demographic for the area show that the females outnumber the males.’

  Olwen nods, impressed. ‘I suspected as much. We do have a lot of single ladies, but quite a few are in the wrong age group for Nic. They wish they weren’t, of course.’

  She beams at me and I agree, he is very easy on the eye.

  ‘Has he always lived here on his own? There never was a woman to add those little feminine touches?’

  For the first time, Olwen looks a little uncomfortable.

  ‘Oh, sorry. That’s just my enquiring mind. He’s a very nice guy and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what his story is; he seems the type of person who needs a challenge and his life here is a little, well, basic.’

  I’m trying not to imply anything that might possibly offend Olwen, but Nic is capable of more than being a taxi driver and writing for a small local paper.

  ‘When he bought the cottage, about three years ago, he wasn’t in a good place. He didn’t mix at first and no one really knew anything much about him. He’s a good man, though, and other people’s troubles don’t go by him unnoticed. There are a few elderly people close by he calls in on regularly to check they’re OK. There aren’t many strangers who settle in as quickly as Nic has and that takes effort.’

  ‘But Max owned the cottage before Nic arrived?’

  A frown travels across Olwen’s brow and I get the impression that she’s choosing her words carefully.

  ‘Yes, but no one was even aware it was on the market and it was a complete surprise when Nic moved in. Max began building the wooden cabins a few years prior. He’d started coming here quite regularly to fish, mainly at weekends. Having been in the Navy, I suppose his love of the sea will always be with him. I think the cottage had been in Max’s family for years, though, although it was hardly ever used. Well, except for a few years back when a young woman stayed here for maybe six months. I think she was convalescing but no one ever saw her out and about, and locals don’t trespass on private land. That’s a big no-no here. In general, the family kept themselves to themselves and it was a Friday night to Sunday afternoon thing. It was a waste of a lovely property, really.

  ‘Gradually, the place began to look very sad indeed from the outside. I think inside was a lot worse, though. Nic has worked tirelessly, doing most of the renovation himself. I guess when Max decided to retire early and his beach home was ready, it was a great solution. A cottage in disrepair requires a lot of time and effort to bring it back to life. Max seems happy enough with his situation now and Nic likes to keep busy.’

  She shrugs her shoulders as it isn’t easy to understand the lifestyle Max has chosen, particularly when he could have been working on the cottage instead and have every home comfort. You can see the sea and the beach from every window. Living in a cabin is akin to living in a caravan, I should imagine.

  ‘He doesn’t work, then?’

  ‘No. He fishes and he has quite a large allotment up behind the farm. He isn’t to
tally self–sufficient, of course, but he does a little exchange here and there. It’s more a lifestyle choice, I think. Someone who can afford a new Range Rover doesn’t have to count the pennies.’

  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

  ‘I didn’t think he had transport.’

  ‘You haven’t noticed it parked up on the top road, in the lay-by just before the farm?’

  ‘I assumed that was owned by someone in the big houses set back from the road. I notice there’s only a dirt track leading up to one of them.’

  ‘No, Max bought it last year, brand new. Before that he had the old model. Like I said, I don’t think money is an issue, but I know that I’d rather be surrounded by bricks and mortar, with a real roof over my head, than in a wooden structure. Right, time I did my job. It’ll take about an hour and then I’ll leave you in peace.’

  I make myself a second coffee and return to my files. Darren and Paige are in their mid-twenties, having met at university. Paige is six months pregnant with their first child and they are due to be married in two weeks’ time. For some reason, I find this scenario more engaging than the first couple’s situation. It’s not new love, exactly, but it has the promise of excitement, I suppose. Lots of firsts taking place and so much to look forward to, I find it inspiring.

  Olwen is true to her word and I hardly notice her working away, but after she leaves the place has a sparkle to it. I know I can look forward to slipping between those freshly laundered sheets tonight.

  *

  What a great day. The interview with Darren was filled with optimism and energy. They have a big mortgage on a house they will outgrow probably sooner, rather than later, but Darren has just been promoted to his first managerial position. I don’t think he uttered one sentence that didn’t include reference to Paige and I can’t wait to interview her on Friday.

  As I shut down the laptop for the day, I’m rather pleased to see that it’s only four o’clock. After the little chat with Olwen I have more questions than answers about Nic, going around and around inside my head.

  It’s still dry outside but the trees confirm the wind hasn’t abated, so I wrap up and head off for a walk up to the farm. I figure it’s a legitimate excuse to check out the farm shop and maybe buy a few items. By now Nic will no doubt have finished his shift and, hopefully, be back from walking Sid.

  I’m living proof that the more exercise you take, the easier it becomes and today the walk up to the road is pleasant. I manage an even pace without having to stop once to catch my breath. The farm is only a short walk along the main road and it’s not a very busy one so it’s easy to cross.

  However, I walk on a bit further to the lay-by to check out Max’s vehicle. In gleaming metallic black, it’s a large beast. It is a puzzle, as it’s at odds with the simple life Max seems to have embraced. He could easily ride around in a tidy little pickup that cost a tenth of this status symbol. I notice there’s a towbar on the back, but a vehicle this heavy would sink into the sand, as there’s no concrete jetty at the cove. I’ve never looked closely at his boat, but maybe that too is a costly indulgence and not a charming little old fishing vessel. The workshop is probably twenty-foot wide, and together with the trailer it sits on, it does seem to take up virtually the whole length. If, as I suspect, the boat is of a good spec, then together with the Range Rover that could equate to almost a hundred thousand pounds. Is Max a smuggler?

  OK, slow down that mind of yours, lady. That’s one step too far. Anyway, you’re on a mission today and it has nothing at all to do with Max.

  When I enter the farm shop it’s empty. There’s a long meat counter, a dozen chest freezers with everything from fruit and vegetables to homemade cheesecake, all bearing the same logo and brand.

  An older man appears from a doorway behind the counter.

  ‘How can I help?’

  Everything is very pristine and as I survey the rows of beef, pork and poultry, I feel the urge to cook.

  ‘Do you have fillet steaks? And a chicken, medium size is fine.’

  ‘I have a nice piece of fillet in the fridge out back, how thick do you like your steaks cut?’

  ‘Oh, quite generous. Enough for two people, thanks so much.’

  While I’m waiting, I pull out a baked New York-style cheesecake from the dessert section and go in search of a bag of frozen mixed fruit. If my plan works I need the meal to be simple, as I want to concentrate on the conversation.

  On my way back to the counter I pick up a jar of olives, a crusty baguette and a bag of potatoes.

  The guy returns with a white plastic carrier bag. ‘Two steaks and one chicken. I’ll grab another bag for your other items.’

  As I’m waiting, the shop door opens and Nic steps inside.

  ‘Hey, Tia, this is a surprise.’

  His mouth curls up in a little smile.

  ‘It’s about time I cooked a real meal, instead of going for the simpler options. I’m taking the evening off and I’m in the mood for steak.’

  ‘Sounds good and you’ve come to the right place.’

  The guy is back and after I swipe my credit card and take the receipt, Nic sidles over and picks up the two bags, escorting me outside.

  ‘Look, these are rather cumbersome for that walk back, so why don’t I pop them down to you in a bit? I’ll put the meat in the fridge in the meantime, as I need to change first. Sid’s walk was muddier than usual as we headed over to the lake and he kept jumping up on me.’

  I did wonder why Nic looked a little mud-splattered and I try my best to look sympathetic, rather than mildly amused.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, why don’t you join me for dinner? The steaks are quick to cook, anyway. So there’s no rush; it won’t take long to get dinner ready once you arrive. Oh, do they sell wine or beer, here? I’m not sure that was on Olwen’s shopping list.’

  ‘Leave the wine to me and great, thanks. I’ll see you in about an hour, then?’

  ‘Looking forward to it.’

  My stomach is doing somersaults for some reason. What if I’m reading him all wrong and Nic isn’t the sort to be interested in taking part in my project? I don’t want to offend or upset him, now that I’ve seen another side to my temporary landlord.

  Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say. I guess I’m about to find out.

  11

  Still Waters Run Deep

  The moment I open the door I can see he’s made an effort. As I stand aside to let him enter, I’m surprised by his choice of aftershave. It’s one I recognise: L’Eau Bleue by Issey Miyake and it immediately conjures up the face of a former boyfriend. That was a whole three months of my life totally wasted on someone who turned out to be less than reliable, let’s say. And that’s letting him off rather lightly.

  I flash Nic a pleasant smile as I shut the door and he follows me out to the kitchen.

  ‘Is this weird, being invited to dinner in your own house?’

  He laughs. A soft, warm sound. ‘You could say that. Unexpected, but hey, I never turn down the chance of a free meal. May I?’

  After placing the shopping bags on the floor, he slips off his jacket and instinctively opens the bathroom door to hang it on the hook. When he sees that I haven’t taken my eyes off him, he makes a face, looking a little embarrassed.

  ‘Sorry, force of habit. There’s nowhere else for guests to hang their coats.’

  ‘No problem, make yourself at home, please.’ That makes him laugh once more, as he pulls out a bottle of red wine from one of the carrier bags.

  ‘If you’d like to do the honours, I’m sure you know where to find the corkscrew.’ Now I’m teasing him and I hope he doesn’t think I’m flirting or anything. I’m really glad Olwen cleaned through today, as everything looks perfect and I want him to see that I’m taking good care of the place.

  I’ve cleared away my temporary office and laid the table. Aside from two place settings, there’s a dish of olives, two small dishes of extra virgin olive oil mixed
with a little Balsamic vinegar and a roughly chopped baguette.

  As I put the chicken in the fridge and start to peel the potatoes, Nic retrieves two wine glasses from the cupboard and pours out a little wine.

  ‘Would a few candles be appropriate? It’s missing a little something.’

  He’s right, of course, but I didn’t think it was polite to go rooting around in someone else’s cupboards, given the circumstances.

  ‘That would be great, thank you.’

  ‘Just saving on the electricity, really,’ he remarks, shooting me a glance and I start laughing. I didn’t realise he had such a sense of humour. The good thing is, it means he’s feeling relaxed enough to joke around.

  By the time the potatoes are ready and I’ve blanched the asparagus I found in the fridge, the steaks are done to perfection. Fillet steak needs to be seasoned well, browned and then finished off in the oven for just a few minutes.

  ‘There you go.’ I put the plate down in front of Nic with a bit of a flourish.

  ‘Well, you seem to know how to cook a steak.’

  He waits until I’m seated and we raise our glasses.

  ‘Least I can do. One good turn deserves another. Happy Wednesday, we’re halfway there.’

  One eyebrow rises slightly and I guess that last remark was a typical one from a regular nine-to-five type of person. Nic’s working week might not follow standard office hours. I’ve no idea if he works at weekends and doesn’t enjoy that Friday euphoria feeling, either.

  ‘Happy Wednesday.’

  We eat in silence, which I think is probably a good sign. Nic devours his food very quickly and I wonder if I gave him a big enough portion. But he seems happy to sit back and begin tucking into the bread, olive oil and olives, while I finish.

  ‘My kind of meal,’ he says, dipping a chunk of bread into the oil.

  I clear away and realise that the cheesecake and forest fruits will take a while to defrost. I should have thought of that. I tip out a bowlful of the fruits and put the cheesecake on a platter.

  ‘Right, that will take about an hour to thaw out, so perhaps we should adjourn to the sitting room with our glasses?’