Abi's Neighbour

by Jenny Kane

  ‘I know, and I’d rather have been holding you rather than a bunch of flowers, but a last-minute case came onto our books. Now I’m a partner I have to take my turn in dealing with these last-minute situations, and I want the chance to prove myself. You understand, don’t you, darling?’

  Cassandra could picture Justin so clearly. He’d be wearing a good-quality suit, probably in charcoal grey. His dark blond hair would be neatly gelled into place, and his right hand would be placed flat over the foot of an expensive wine glass which contained expensive wine. There would be a bowl of salad, laced with so much dressing that any of its low-calorie claims would be extinguished before he’d filled his fork for the first mouthful.

  ‘Of course I understand, but I still wish you’d told me about buying the house. I felt such a fool.’

  Justin didn’t bother to hold in his exasperation. ‘Come on, Cassandra, I’ve explained that already, you’re a businesswoman. You can see the purchase of the house made excellent sense. Don’t turn into my wife, for God’s sake!’

  Immediately stung by how quickly he’d become cross, Cassandra felt her easy mood dissolve. Never, in six years of her being his mistress, had he compared her to the dreadful Jacinta. ‘Justin, I am here, in the middle of nowhere, precisely because I am nothing like your bloody wife. I’m here as part of your escape plan!

  ‘I have put my entire life and my business on hold for you. For us. Don’t you dare give me a hard time because you made a major decision, using my money as well as yours, without even telling me. And before you say it, it doesn’t matter that I would have agreed anyway – what matters is that you didn’t consult me.’

  There was silence down the line as Cassandra waited for Justin to respond. She was annoyed by the disapproving looks she was getting from passers-by. What the hell was wrong with the people down here? In London no one batted an eyelid if they passed someone having an argument, it was merely white noise, and nobody’s business but those involved.

  ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I miss you, Cassandra. It’s not very pleasant here right now. I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’ll make it up to you soon, I promise.’

  Taking a sip from her latte, Cassandra relented. ‘Has it been as awful as we assumed it would be, telling Jacinta and your boss about the divorce?’ She ran a hand through her hair, and without waiting for an answer, added, ‘That was a stupid question! I’m sure it has been beyond awful. I’m so used to us being in touch, of knowing what’s going on with each other. I feel so cut off.’

  Speaking more soothingly, Justin said, ‘I have tried to call a few times, but you don’t answer.’

  ‘The signal is awful; I have to be in the correct part of the town to get calls and Wi-Fi.’

  ‘There you are then! I’m not ignoring you, I can’t reach you. And yes, it has been beyond awful. Jacinta is not going to go quietly.’

  ‘We never thought she would, that’s why you hid some of your money in my account.’

  ‘It’s just as well we did. And my boss didn’t take the news well. Not good for the image of a family orientated company. I’m glad we are drip-feeding him information. If he knew I’d already got a new wife lined up, he’d probably sack me before I’d got my new desk in order.’

  ‘New wife?’ Cassandra spoke the words with delight, her heart soaring. All Justin’s other words seemed to fade away. ‘Really? Are you serious?’

  ‘I am, my darling. I am. But I’d like you to forget I said that for now so I can propose properly at a more romantic opportunity. I wasn’t going to say anything at all, but seeing as I’ve abandoned you for a minute, I thought it was only fair to reassure you that I love you, and this is going to work out for us. Anyway, how’s the house?’

  Accepting his abrupt change of subject, while imagining how he might propose when the time came, Cassandra said, ‘It’s a mess. You can tell it has been empty for a while, and that the previous occupants were elderly. The smell of damp is so bad in the spare room it would make you gag. I’m in Truro today, sourcing new furnishings and thinking about colour schemes. Do I have a free hand to do what needs doing?’

  ‘You have excellent taste, darling, I can’t think of anyone better to attend to the interior design of an executive holiday home.’

  ‘Sennen Cove isn’t exactly an executive area, Justin.’

  ‘Which is why it’s so perfect. An exquisitely decorated house, with all the mod cons anyone could want, but in a rural retreat which offers the ultimate temporary escape from the pressures of work.’

  A flicker of excitement stirred in Cassandra. ‘Well, if you put it like that, I’d better go and make a start. It’s going to cost a lot to make it perfect though.’

  ‘We’ll be earning our money back right from the first rental.’

  ‘Right then! I’d better get started. Love you.’

  Having memorised directions from the obliging barista, Cassandra set off in search of a corridor of shops, which he’d described as ‘local crafty chic places’.

  As soon as Cassandra pushed open the door to the first shop in the row, a place which did up old furniture, she had the strangest feeling: it was like falling in love.

  Reconditioned items had, until that moment, been things that happened to other people. Cassandra had never seen the attraction of buying something second hand if you could have something brand new. She’d only gone in because she’d noticed some attractive paint points in the window, boosting themselves to contain vintage colours, as used by many a stately home. The shop smelt inviting, fresh and crisp, and she was entranced. There wasn’t a hint of ‘oldness’ about it anywhere.

  ‘Hello there. Shout if you want some help, or say if you’d rather I left you in peace.’

  Cassandra was taken aback by the generous welcome from the woman behind the counter, who was currently wrestling with a chest of drawers. Judging from her fragile build, Cassandra found herself speculating if the chest would win.

  ‘I’m happy browsing, thank you.’

  Taking up some sandpaper, the assistant smiled again before returning to her attack on the giant piece of furniture. ‘Right you are.’

  Running her hand lightly across the top of a butter yellow sideboard, which had three exquisite bumblebees painted in one corner, Cassandra knew that she had to have it. The few items of furniture the previous occupants had left in number two Miners Row were dark wood, and although she had no doubt they were of excellent quality, they made the place feel even more cramped than it was.

  The more she explored the TARDIS-styled shop, which was far larger than it had first appeared, the more items Cassandra found to delight her, and soon she realised that the three bumblebee pattern was a theme that was repeated on tables, cabinets, and even a slim dresser.

  Wishing she’d had the foresight to measure the space available in the dining half of the living room, not to mention the kitchen, Cassandra checked the price tags on the bee furniture and nearly fell over. While they weren’t exactly Bond Street prices, they weren’t the cheap option she’d assumed they’d be. Still, Justin had said he respected her judgement, so maybe if she measured them to see if they’d fit in the spaces she had already visualised them in…Especially if she had the walls painted a lighter colour, a warm ivory perhaps…

  ‘Excuse me; I don’t suppose you have a tape measure I could borrow?’

  ‘Of course. Would you like a hand? Tape measures are always a bit easier with two, aren’t they?’

  ‘Well, yes. Thank you.’ Wondering if she’d ever get used to people not only being friendly, but willingly helpful, Cassandra pointed to the sideboard. ‘I love this, but I’m not sure it’ll fit into the house I’m updating.’

  ‘No problem. I’m glad you like it. I have to confess, out of all of the pieces in the shop today, I spent longer on that one than most of the others put together.’

  ‘You did this?’ Cassandra was impressed.

  ‘Yes, the bee is my signature. If you see a bee on a lump of furniture,
then it’s one of mine. A few friends sell their work in here as well. We all have our own signature.’

  ‘I love that!’

  ‘Thank you. I’m Jo by the way.’

  ‘Cassandra. Umm, I don’t suppose I could pick your brains?’

  Jo laughed heartily. ‘If you can find them, they’re all yours.’

  Cassandra couldn’t help but grin back. Something about the woman made feeling happy contagious. ‘I’m after a decorator, someone I can trust to do a good job even if I’m not around.’

  ‘Whereabouts is the property?’

  ‘Sennen Cove.’

  ‘Oh that’s easy then.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Sure. You’ll be wanting Max Pendale. He’s the best down there. No question.’

  ‘Reliable?’

  ‘Very much so. His reputation has reached this far north with good reason. I have his number; I’ll fish it out for you once we’ve measured all you want to measure.’

  Gesturing to Abi to pass the pen they’d been using to fill in the newspaper crossword, Max spoke into his mobile. ‘Yes, yes, I know the place very well. I can come round and do you a quote first thing Monday morning, if that’s convenient?… Excellent. Can I take a name and a mobile number in case of emergency?…You’re right, the signal here can be awkward, yet somehow we manage…Nine o’clock on Monday morning will be fine… I will see you the day after tomorrow then. Thank you.’

  Scribbling down a name next to the phone number he’d already written on the side of their newspaper, Max looked across the table at Abi. ‘There’s a coincidence.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘The new neighbour you were worried about has just called me and asked if I’d be her decorator, assuming she likes my quote.’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘Not at all. The rather efficient-sounding Ms Cassandra Henley-Pinkerton is expecting me on her doorstep at precisely nine o’clock Monday morning. You, my darling, are about to have a spy in the camp!’

  Abi groaned out loud, ‘Her name is Henley-Pinkerton? Oh God, she sounds exactly like the sort of nightmare women I ran away from. I blame my old neighbours for moving! They were so lovely!’

  Holding Abi close, Max said, ‘They had the chance to live nearer their grandchildren, we can’t blame them for that. Anyway, there is one compensation. If Ms Double-Barrelled takes my quote, then I could stay here while I’m working next door. If you’d like me to, that is.’

  Abi’s expression blossomed with joy. ‘I’d like that. I’d like that very much.’

  Chapter Six

  Parking the cherry-red Kia she’d rented from a car dealer on the outskirts of Truro in a lay-by, Cassandra suddenly had a sensation of being overwhelmed. At least, she thought that was what she was feeling. She’d never felt out of her depth like this before.

  Forcing herself to think clearly, she stroked the little car’s steering wheel affectionately. She didn’t understand how she felt at all. Free, maybe? To be able to drive a car down any road she liked, when she liked, without some enterprising soul demanding money for cleaning your windnscreen as you waited at the lights was as liberating as it was disorientating.

  It wasn’t just that, though.

  Cassandra had spent far longer in the reclaimed furniture shop than she’d intended to. It had seemed perfectly natural to accept an offer of coffee as they chatted, laughed, and she had been genuinely interested when Jo, without a hint of being patronising, had offered to show her how to make the most of the kitchen table and old wooden sink unit that were already in place at the cottage.

  Having left the shop with Jo’s phone number programmed into her mobile, and details of how to get to the nearest department store to buy linen, and where to find a car rental place, stored in her brain, Cassandra had spent a thoroughly relaxed day wandering around Truro. For the first time since the train had whisked her unwillingly into Cornwall, she began to think she’d be able to survive in the south-west for a few weeks.

  Climbing out of the car to take in the view across the fields, towards the sea, a meagre flow of traffic pottering past the lay-by at a thoroughly Cornish pace, Cassandra thought about Justin. The knowledge that he was only working over the weekend so he could hasten his departure from his wife had certainly been a major factor in her more peaceful state, and the thought made her pulse quicken.

  Logically, Cassandra knew that if they’d been in London, and Justin had cancelled a meeting due to work issues, she’d have waved away the situation with only a twinge of regret, knowing they’d catch up as soon as they could. ‘It’s just because I’m down here and I miss him that I feel so muddled,’ she told the scenery before her. ‘If I was in my flat I’d call a friend and go to the theatre or something, or get some work done.’

  Climbing back into the Kia, Cassandra set off towards Sennen, planning as she went. ‘If I’m happy enough working in London while I wait for Justin to turn up, then there’s no reason why I can’t be content doing the same here.’

  Loving how easy the unfamiliar car was to drive, Cassandra continued to sort out her immediate routine out loud. ‘I’m going to stop at the next available supermarket to get some supplies, drive back to Sennen, measure the furniture, make up the bed, then go to the nearest restaurant for dinner. And the day after tomorrow, after I’ve interviewed the decorator, I will drive to Penzance and get some actual work done.’

  Negotiating the overtaking of a horsebox, her thoughts turned to the business she’d built up on her own after graduating from business school eight years ago. ‘It’s high time I checked on my staff to make sure that there are no problems.’

  Cassandra smiled as she thought about The Pinkerton Agency. It had been a real challenge, at the age of twenty-two, to build up the company which aimed to provide well-educated, qualified nannies, who had the qualifications to not just look after the children of businessmen and women, but to teach them as well, acting as pre- or after-school tutors.

  Word about how good the agency was had spread quickly, and families who’d marked their children for private school before conception welcomed the chance to have their offspring moulded into high achievers from birth by intelligent young men and women.

  ‘Right then,’ Cassandra told the car as she pulled into a small supermarket car park near St Just, ‘on Monday morning, after we’ve sorted Mr Pendale, we are going into Penzance to catch up on emails.’

  ‘So, how was the studio?’ Beth stretched her legs out on the sofa so that her feet rested on Jacob’s lap.

  ‘I think the best word to describe it was poky. There wouldn’t be room for me, let along the pots and Oscar.’

  ‘Rats! That place would have been perfect location-wise.’ Beth sighed. ‘I assume most studio owners would be OK with you having a cat in tow?’

  ‘No issues so far with Oscar being an extra tenant. We’ll have to see.’

  Hastily pushing away the tears that were threatening to escape, glad that Jacob hadn’t noticed, Beth said, ‘I’ll ask Abi to make some calls to the artists she’s booked for the gallery in case they know of somewhere suitable. I’m sorry, I meant to do that this morning, but I forgot.’

  ‘Don’t worry, love.’ Jacob regarded Beth carefully; it wasn’t like her to forget anything. ‘I’ve put the word out on the potters’ grapevine, so if there is anyone out there who’s been thinking of giving up their studio space, they’ll know to get in touch with me directly rather than going through an estate agent.’

  ‘Well that would certainly make it a bit cheaper as well, if we didn’t have agent’s fees to consider.’

  Jacob patted his lap, and Beth turned so that her head was lying on a pile of cushions on his lap. As he stroked her hair, Jacob looked down at his partner. ‘Are you OK, Beth? You don’t seem yourself today?’

  ‘I’m fine, honestly, I told you the other day, it’s end-of-term syndrome. Only a few more weeks to go, and then you’ll have the normal non-stressed me back.’

  Jaco
b was about to tell her that he didn’t mind what she was like as long as she was alright, when his mobile buzzed into life. ‘That’s probably Max, we said we’d go for a beer once he got back from St Ives…oh no, hang on, it’s not Max.’ Jacob gently levered up Beth and moved into the kitchen.

  Beth could faintly hear him talking through the thin wall that divided the kitchen and living room. Standing up, she stared at her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace opposite the sofa. Groaning softly, she ran her hands through her hair. It felt lank, and as Beth peered harder at her image, she saw the faint signs of wrinkles she was sure hadn’t been there last week.

  ‘You’re tired. Stop it!’ Beth muttered crossly to herself. ‘Have an early night, wash your hair in the morning, drink less coffee and more water, and you’ll be fine. It’s just hormones and the end of term thing.’

  Surprised that her personal pep talk hadn’t worked as well as it usually did when she was feeling down in the dumps, Beth was about to sit down again, when Jacob reappeared by running across the room and sweeping her up into his arms.

  ‘Well, gorgeous teacher lady, we’ve had a bit of luck!’ Jacob kissed Beth hard, before breaking away.

  ‘We have?’

  ‘That was one of my mates from the aforementioned potters’ grapevine.’

  For the first time in days Beth’s smile felt genuine. ‘A studio?’

  ‘Yep! We have one.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Yep, and the best thing is, not only is Oscar’s presence no problem, I already know that it will be perfect, because I’ve worked there with Frankie – he’s the potter that taught me how to make those huge Ali Baba type pots I do – so I’ve said yes!’

  Beth hugged Jacob. ‘Where is it? Can I see it? Can we afford it?’

  ‘St Buryan. Yes and yes!’

  ‘St Buryan? That could be perfect. You can pop in and see Stan when you’re waiting for your pots to harden and stuff… I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!’