‘Oh, you just wait, Robin Brennan. Though,’ Molly added, ‘you might be waiting a long time. I’m going to get another bottle of wine.’
‘No,’ Robin said as Molly stood up, ‘I’ve got to cook breakfast for seven guests in the morning. I can’t be hungover.’
‘You’ll cook a better fry-up with a hangover than without one, because you’ll be more invested in it. It’s the perfect cure. Besides, Paige will be there to help if you need a break.’
‘Molly,’ Robin said, a warning in her voice as her friend, shoes discarded next to the sofa, danced lightly to the door.
‘What? We don’t have to drink the whole bottle, do we?’
‘You’re a bad influence on me.’
Molly waved her away with a hand and disappeared into the hall. Robin sat back on the sofa and closed her eyes, grateful that Molly was there to talk things over with, to make her laugh, and to make light of the worries that she was storing up inside.
A loud bang from outside startled her eyes open, and she sprung up and turned the lamp off in a single movement, pressing her face to the glass. A blue car pulled up between Robin’s Fiat 500 and the Barkers’ Land Rover. Robin squinted. It was an Alfa Romeo; it looked old and rather battered, and not just because of the exhaust fumes puffing out into the night-time air. She watched as the driver’s door opened and a man unfolded himself, then stood and peered up at the house fronts. He was tall and broad-shouldered and probably around her age, though Robin couldn’t see his features clearly. He walked round to open the passenger door and a small curly-haired, caramel-coloured dog hopped on to the pavement. The man wrapped the lead around his wrist, pulled a holdall out of the boot and then, to Robin’s astonishment, walked up the stairs of Tabitha’s house.
Robin’s nose was completely squashed against the glass as she tried to keep her eyes on him, but the angle was too acute and he disappeared from view as soon as he’d reached the top step. She saw the dog’s tail for a few more seconds, and then they were both gone.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Molly asked, returning with a fresh bottle of wine, a lurid pink rosé that had been on offer in the supermarket but Robin hadn’t yet plucked up the courage to open.
Robin rubbed her nose, listened for the sound of Tabitha’s front door closing, and then flopped on to the sofa. ‘Someone just went inside next door. Someone who arrived in a battered old Alfa.’
‘Who?’ Molly asked, sounding as shocked as Robin felt. ‘Squatters? More property developers?’
‘It’s after nine,’ Robin shook her head. ‘He had a holdall and a fluffy dog and … and I don’t know what else. But he’s gone inside, or at least he disappeared up the stairs and I heard the door close.’
Molly made a ‘come on’ motion with her hand and Robin finished her wine, then allowed her friend to refill her glass. ‘Borrow some sugar.’
‘What?’
‘Let’s go round and ask to borrow some sugar.’
‘No. No way.’
‘Why not? I bet Mrs Harris would.’
‘Don’t lump me in with her,’ Robin warned. ‘How would it look? Someone goes into a house that’s been empty for a year, and then someone else who lives in an open, functioning guesthouse asks the new person for a cup of sugar. It’s completely back to front. I may as well scrawl nosy neighbour on my forehead.’
‘So go and say hello. Introduce yourself.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re next door.’
‘You’re on the other side,’ Robin protested. ‘You’re a neighbour too.’
‘But I’m not at home right now.’ Molly clutched her wine to her chest and pulled her legs up on to the sofa.
Robin sighed. ‘I am not going to go and knock on the door. Not until at least tomorrow, otherwise he’ll know I noticed him arriving.’
Molly whooped and let out a loud peal of laughter. ‘I knew I could rely on you.’
‘Shush. Now, how’s this wine? Is it as toxic as it looks?’
It was after midnight, and the doorbell was ringing. Robin looked up from the sink and glanced down the hallway as if that would give her clarity. All her guests were safely tucked up in their rooms. She knew this because as they’d come in throughout the evening she had invited them to have a glass of wine with her and Molly. Catriona and Neil had accepted, and the four of them had spent an hour in Sea Shanty, Robin and Molly extolling the virtues of Campion Bay to the young couple, who turned out to be on their first holiday together – paid for with Neil’s work bonus – and had travelled from just outside Birmingham.
But now it was officially tomorrow, and the doorbell was definitely ringing. Robin had had it replaced, having spent far too long listening to sound-snippets on a website before picking the perfect chime, so there could be no mistaking it. She padded down the hallway, wondering whether Molly had, in her slightly tipsy state, left her phone behind, but as she got closer to the door and turned the outside light on, the figure behind the coloured glass became clearer, and it wasn’t Molly-shaped.
Robin pulled the door open and tried not to gasp. ‘H-hello,’ she stuttered, ‘how can I help?’
It was the man who’d gone into Tabitha’s house. He had the same tall frame and broad shoulders, and the same small dog at his feet. A closer look confirmed he was her age, or perhaps a couple of years older. He was blinking at her under the outside light, and he was soaked. Robin peered behind him to check there hadn’t been a sudden, silent downpour, and when she was satisfied, turned her attention back to him and the dog who, she realized, looked equally bedraggled. It was adorable, the kind of breed that could be mistaken for a cuddly toy, and she had to resist scooping it into her arms.
‘There’s been a leak,’ he said. ‘I mean, there is a leak, next door.’ His voice was deep and slightly breathless, his expression was apologetic, and his eyes, Robin couldn’t help noticing, were very green. He had a spread of freckles across a straight nose and tanned cheeks, and his short hair, which was plastered to his forehead, gave a suggestion of being chestnut brown when it wasn’t wet. The dark stain on his grey jumper looked like he’d been dumped under a bucket of water rather than an impromptu rain shower.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I – have I caused the leak?’
He frowned. ‘What? No, I don’t think so. I think the roof needs repairing.’
‘My roof?’ Robin stepped outside and peered up at the front of the guesthouse, her heart hammering with alarm. She was very close to him now. She caught a whiff of mildewed water and something else, something much more pleasant that brought back a childhood memory: full paper bags from the traditional sweet shop in town.
‘No,’ the man said, his voice now with a hint of frustration. ‘Next door. Look, I’m not accusing you of anything, and I’m sorry to knock so late, but you are still a guesthouse, aren’t you? The sign says so.’ He pointed upwards. Robin resisted the urge to look up at her own name sign, and instead stepped back inside, facing him.
‘Sorry.’ She rubbed her forehead. Damn Molly and that second bottle of wine. ‘Sorry, yes I am. You’re staying next door?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Well,’ he said, giving her a wry smile. ‘I was trying to, but it seems the house has other ideas. I can’t … I mean, I could stay there. It would probably be the manly thing to do, style it out on the floor in another of the rooms, do the whole Bear Grylls thing, but the place needs a complete overhaul. Then I remembered that, as luck would have it, my aunt lived next to a guesthouse.’
‘Your aunt?’ Robin had been about to tell him that she was pretty sure Bear Grylls grappled with terrains a bit more hard-core than seafront houses, but now she was distracted. ‘Tabitha was your aunt?’
The man’s eyes widened, and then his smile registered something that was either genuine happiness, or possibly relief now that he was finally getting some sense out of her. ‘Yes, yes she was. Hi.’ He held out his hand. ‘Will Nightingale.’
Robin took it.
It was warm and firm and – unsurprisingly, given the rest of him – slightly damp. ‘Robin Brennan,’ she replied, trying to find similarities with the woman she had lived next door to for most of her childhood. Tabitha’s eyes had been hazel rather than startling green, but, along with a growing spread of grey, she’d had the woody, mid-brown hair that Robin suspected Will’s would be once it dried. And Robin remembered her neighbour once telling her that her maiden name was Nightingale, and that the only sadness she’d had in getting married to the love of her life was losing such a beautiful surname for the mundanity of becoming Mrs Thomas.
‘Hi, Robin.’ Will dropped his hand. ‘I don’t suppose, by any chance, you’ve got any rooms going? Just so I can be a wuss in comfort and deal with the leak tomorrow, in the daylight. And I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you also accept my dog? I don’t want Darcy to be left in a strange, empty house on her own.’
‘Yes,’ Robin said, ‘of course. Please come in.’ Will grinned, his shoulders dropping in relief. He picked up his bag from the porch and stepped into the hallway. ‘Darcy?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Long story.’ He was standing close to her, looking around him, failing to meet her eye all of a sudden. ‘This place is great,’ he said. ‘A far cry from what Tabitha’s left me with. Look,’ he turned towards her, ‘I do appreciate this. I know it’s after midnight, and you’re probably not in the habit of accepting guests – and dogs – so late. So if you just tell me where my room is, I’ll dry Darcy off, get out of your hair and we can regroup in the morning.’
‘Sure, sure. No problem,’ Robin managed, her head so full of questions about Tabitha, and how come he’d appeared now, and why had Robin never met him while she was growing up, and did he know about the plans that Malcolm and Tim had for the house, and had they found his number and got in touch with him, that for a moment she forgot the reality of the situation. ‘Your room. Yes, of course – let me show you.’
‘Please don’t put yourself out. I’m sure I can find my way. I’ve got navigational skills like Bear Grylls, even if I don’t have his stamina.’ His face fell as he caught Robin’s eye and she didn’t return the smile. It had just dawned on her, through the shock of the unexpected situation, which room she was going to have to put Will in for the night.
‘I’d like to show you if that’s OK?’ She hurried into Sea Shanty and took the key from the top drawer, the icon of GuestSmart winking accusingly at her from the desktop. She would check him in later. ‘My rooms are a bit … unique,’ she managed, taking a towel out of the bottom drawer and handing it to him.
‘Oh?’ Will raised his eyebrows, suddenly looking slightly nervous. They stood in the hallway, facing each other, as the rest of the guesthouse settled into darkness around them. ‘Unique in what way?’ He crouched and rubbed Darcy with the towel. She stood perfectly still while she was dried into a caramel puffball.
‘You’ll see,’ Robin said. ‘Come with me.’ Without asking, and with her heart pounding in her chest, she picked up Will’s holdall and started climbing the stairs towards their destination at the top of the house.
She was going to have to put Will Nightingale, Tabitha’s nephew, and his little dog Darcy, in Starcross.
Chapter Five
‘Here we are,’ Robin said, her chest tightening as she stopped on the tiny landing outside Starcross. Will stopped on the top step behind her. There wasn’t enough room for both of them on the landing, and she could feel his breath on her ear, but for some reason she couldn’t open the door. She had a mental block. She looked at the nameplate, pearly white with Starcross written in swirling blue, as with all the other name signs, and wondered if she could do this. Put this tall, imposing, though so far very nice-seeming man in this special room. A room full of dreams and hopes and finding meaning in the stars.
‘Uhm, is everything all right?’ Will asked.
‘Yes, of course.’ She put her hand on the door handle. Pushed it down. And he had a dog. A very cute dog, some kind of poodle-cross, though she wasn’t sure exactly what. She had only ever intended for dogs to go in the rooms on the first floor. Not up here.
‘Robin,’ Will prompted, ‘if this isn’t convenient or … or if the room is really specialist, then I can always—’
‘No no,’ she said, not wanting to encourage his mind to wander. If she hadn’t wanted guests here, then why had she designed it in this way? Angry with herself, she pushed the door open quickly, forcefully, almost falling into the room. She turned on the light and took another two steps, allowing Will to follow her. Darcy ran ahead and put her paws up on the duvet cover.
‘No, Darcy.’ Will covered the room in a couple of strides and gently lifted her paws off the fabric, stroking her fuzzy coat. He stood up straight, his eyebrows rising as he noticed her looking. ‘Are you sure this is OK? You’re not bending your rules for me, are you?’
Robin shook her head, enamoured by how softly he spoke to his dog. ‘Not much,’ she admitted. Will’s attention turned to the room, to the telescope in front of the balcony doors, a framed map of the constellations next to the glass, the modern, slate-grey furniture with subtle silver accents. She chewed the inside of her cheek. She’d put solar-powered sun and moon jars on the chest-of-drawers alongside the mini Kilner jars containing teabags and sugar sachets, but realized that unless she turned the LEDs on, guests wouldn’t know what they were.
‘The bathroom’s in there.’ She pointed to the only other door in the room. ‘And details about breakfast, and all the other information about the guesthouse, is in the pack on the dressing table.’
‘It’s a beautiful room,’ he said, as she put his holdall on the floor. ‘Are you a bit of a stargazer, then?’
‘Not at much as I’d like to be,’ she admitted. ‘I have good intentions, but never seem to take enough time to learn what everything is. But I do love the stars, and this room has a perfect view of them on a clear night.’
‘No light pollution over the sea.’ Will was moving slowly around the room, looking at everything. He stopped at the balcony doors, the curtains still open, and flipped the light switch that Robin had put there for that very purpose. The room was plunged into darkness, and she held her breath as Will peered out. After a moment, he turned. ‘It’s too cloudy tonight, so – oh.’
The pinprick lights that Robin had installed in the ceiling began glowing softly, casting the room, and Will, in an eerie bluish hue, like moonlight.
‘Nice touch,’ he said quietly. ‘So you get stars, even if they’re hiding behind cloud cover.’
‘They fade after a while. You can set the time they stay on, so you don’t have to sleep with it like this.’ She pointed to a small timer on the wall behind the headboard, then hugged her arms tightly around herself. It was close to one in the morning, but she felt as tight and fidgety as a wind-up toy desperate to be released. She hadn’t quite prepared herself for a guest staying in Starcross, and had definitely not been ready for Tabitha’s nephew to turn up and be so imposing. Was he imposing? He was certainly making his presence felt, but then Starcross was the smallest room, and there were three of them in it – if you counted Darcy.
‘Does she need some water? I’ve got a bowl downstairs.’
‘I’ve got that covered, at least.’ Will pulled a metal bowl out of an end-pocket of his holdall. ‘I didn’t know what I’d be faced with when I arrived. Clearly, I didn’t account for all eventualities.’ He indicated his sodden shirt.
‘I’d better leave you to it,’ Robin said, backing towards the door. ‘Let you get some sleep.’ She realized she hadn’t given him his keys. ‘Here you go. One key for this room, and one for the front door.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice weighted with sincerity. ‘This room is perfect. Unique, granted, but not in the way I was imagining.’
‘What were you imagining?’
His green eyes fixed on hers for a moment, the smile there rather than on his lips. ‘Maybe I’ll tell you when we know each o
ther a bit better. I’m not sure you’d appreciate it, and the last thing I want to do is get kicked out now I’ve found a great place to stay.’
Robin gave a nervous laugh. ‘OK, sleep well, then. I’m on the ground floor if you need anything. You or Darcy.’
‘Thank you, Robin. For coming to my rescue.’
‘You’re very welcome.’ She backed up to the door, slid through it and closed it. No dancing on the landing this time; she fled down the stairs as quietly as she could, scooped Eclipse into a hug as he pattered into the hall, and then went to bed herself, pulling the cover up to her chin, her kitten buzzing gently, his soft fur warming her feet.
Everyone appeared for breakfast at the same time. Officially, Robin ran it from seven thirty to nine thirty, though she was prepared to deal with requests that deviated from her plan. On her first morning everyone picked eight thirty to appear, and so she led them, en masse, out to Honeysuckle, the patio garden where she would serve breakfast on days the weather allowed it.
Robin was prepared for this. She had learnt much of it by osmosis, by just being there during her teenage years, and now she had her mum and dad’s bible. Running the guesthouse, Sylvie and Ian assured her at the top of the first page, was completely different to being on the periphery.
Robin kept her focus, staying in the kitchen while Paige served and cleared the tables. Molly’s daughter was the perfect balance of polite and cheerful with the guests, and Robin could hear chatting and laughter through the open door. She had baked sourdough and Parmesan bread, and had found a recipe for shredded hash browns. Outside, each room had its own table, so Robin could keep track of any food requirements or allergies included on booking forms. Mr and Mrs Barker both went for full fried breakfasts with extra hash browns, Neil had the vegetarian version and Catriona picked scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast. Ray and Andrea, the guests in Wilderness, opted for croissants, and Dorothy seemed happy with muesli and toast.
The only empty places were at the Starcross table, but Robin thought Will was probably having a lie-in after his late arrival.
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