Robin looked up at her friend, and tried to keep her dismay at bay. ‘Will saw your text.’
Molly’s eyes widened.
‘In fact, he read it out to me. All that stuff about me being a one-woman publicity campaign, that I’d saved the day and got the guy; Goldcrest Road thanks you for keeping number four out of Tim’s evil clutches.’ She’d read it so many times that she knew it off by heart, and now she watched Molly’s curious expression transform into one of horror, which confirmed that the situation was as bad as she thought it was.
‘Robin, what the hell? None of that— I was joking, you know that, right? I mean, great if Will doesn’t sell to Tim but … I was being silly. I was just so happy that you and he— I could tell that you liked him, and that the feeling was mutual, the first time I met him. That’s what I was hoping would happen. I mentioned the house and Tim as a joke, because we’d talked about it when Will arrived, because it would be the last thing on your mind. But he read it out? Shit, Robin. What happened?’
Robin sighed, her insides shrivelling. ‘That kiss at the golf course, it felt so right, Molly. It was amazing and overwhelming. We came back to the guesthouse, and I …’ She blushed as she remembered the anticipation, the recklessness of taking him to bed. ‘I was tidying up my room, and your text came through. I asked him to read it, thinking it was probably from one of the guests, and he … he did.’
Molly closed her eyes. ‘And you didn’t explain that I was only being cheeky?’
‘But I thought your campaign was real, Molly! I thought that you were genuinely thanking me for getting Will to stay, and so I – I told him all the generosity, from Ashley, Stefano and Nicolas, was so that he’d fall for Campion Bay and Tim wouldn’t be able to buy the house. I didn’t want to lie to him any more.’
‘So he thinks we’ve been playing him since day one?’
‘He thinks that’s what I was doing, too. Offering to help him clear out Tabitha’s house, being so … so …’
‘Obliging? Warm towards him?’
Robin pulled at her hair. ‘When Tim turned up that night, sniffing around Will like a hyena, I encouraged him to keep going with the sort-out, saying that he owed it to Tabitha to go through all her things properly. I meant it, but I was also angry with Tim for being so blatant and I wanted to put Will off him. But now he’s going to think that all I cared about was the house.’
‘No, Robin. That makes no sense. It’s unfortunate – it’s bloody crap – that he thinks we were only being kind to him to protect the seafront, but that’s my fault for not being clearer with you.’
‘I should have known,’ Robin said. ‘Or at least asked you if you were really behind it.’
‘I shouldn’t have assumed you’d get that I was joking. But Will has to realise that you care about him, that you weren’t being the hostess with the mostest for the sake of some bricks and mortar. You kissed, for God’s sake, and – I assume – were planning on taking it further until my ill-timed text messed it up.’
Robin nodded and picked up a wafer biscuit. ‘I like him a lot, Molly. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this about someone. I can’t remember feeling so hopeful, so exhilarated since – since Neve died.’ She inhaled, trying to calm her nerves. It was harder than she’d thought, admitting to her friend how important Will was to her. She’d known him for two weeks; was she just hanging on to him because he had seemed to like her as much as she liked him? She didn’t think that was it; her feelings for Will went deeper, settling into the fabric of her. She was even more aware of them now that he was out of reach, now that she might have ruined their relationship irreversibly.
Molly squeezed her hand, her expression solemn. ‘Then we have to make it right. What happened after he saw the text, and you told him we’d all been charming to him for our own gain?’
Robin chewed the inside of her cheek. This was the hardest part to recount. ‘He was angry. He walked out, after … after he told me that I must have thought he was an idiot, treating him like that, making him believe that we all liked him. I tried to tell him that my feelings were real, but he left. He didn’t stay in Starcross last night and then, this morning, he got one of the other guests to return his key and his credit-card details, so I can take payment for his stay.’
‘Ouch!’ Molly whispered. ‘He’s hurting; that’s understandable. But once we explain to him that you got it wrong, that there never was a campaign, that we were only trying to make him feel welcome, then it will be fine.’ Molly’s voice was bright, but Robin could tell that her friend didn’t believe it would be that easy.
‘He was so upset. He said he had begun to fall for me, that he had started to think about his future here.’
‘He’s upset because he cares. As hard as it is to hear, that’s a good sign. If he wasn’t bothered about your friendship, about what was happening, then he would have shrugged, said we were all bastards, and moved on. He cares about you, so there’s hope that we can rescue the situation.’
Robin ate a second pink wafer biscuit, thinking how typical it was of Molly to have biscuits that matched the decoration of her beauty parlour. Was it possible that Molly was right, and Will’s feelings for her meant there was still a chance for them, or had her assumed betrayal gone too deep?
‘Let me talk to him,’ Molly said, patting her hand.
‘But he thinks you were behind the charm offensive.’
‘So I’ll tell him the truth. And if he’s a stubborn bugger, I’ll tell him again and again until he believes it. He’ll listen to me because he isn’t falling for me. He’s probably not feeling very rational about you at the moment.’
‘You think that’ll work?’
Molly nodded. ‘I do. Will’s a nice guy – you wouldn’t be head over heels for him if he wasn’t – so he’ll listen to reason eventually.’
Robin stared at the tabletop, wondering if she could let her friend try to fix things. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Molly – she had more fire and determination in her petite frame than Robin did – but would she say everything that Robin wanted to convey? Could she give her this task, which, while daunting, would potentially be the difference between Will forgiving her and never talking to her again?
‘Thank you for offering,’ she said. ‘But I have to do this. What will he think of me if I can’t even face up to what I’ve done?’
Molly appraised her, her blue eyes serious. ‘I totally get it. Of course you need to speak to him. But that doesn’t stop me feeling partly responsible.’ She pressed her hand against her chest.
Robin shook her head. ‘You didn’t get the wrong end of the stick, and you didn’t let Will read your text messages.’
‘What this boils down to, Robin, is a simple misunderstanding. We haven’t been using Will as a weapon against Tim’s designs on the house, we’ve been kind to him, but he – with some inadvertent help from you – thinks that our friendship is fake. Doesn’t it sound straightforward when I say it like that?’
‘It does,’ Robin agreed, exhaling. ‘I’ll go and see him later, and that’s what I’ll tell him. Thank you, Molly. I bet you thought you were done picking pieces of me off the floor.’
‘I’m your friend,’ Molly said. ‘I’ll put you back together again as often as you need it. But this one, I’m sure, is an easy fix. Let me know as soon as you’ve spoken to him.’ She gave Robin such a reassuring grin that she allowed herself to feel a glimmer of hope.
Maybe it was that simple. Maybe, once she had explained it to Will, he would see that she had been confused, and realise that nobody’s kindness had been engineered to get him to hold on to the house, least of all hers. Molly sent her back to the guesthouse in a sharp, sunny breeze that suggested the bad weather had been a temporary blip.
Robin found the tasks she needed to do around the guesthouse, cleaning and polishing, replenishing tea, coffee and biscuits and turning down the sheets, cathartic. She went into Starcross, but decided she wouldn’t do the full changeov
er clean just yet, not until she had spoken to Will. All the sheets got changed on a Saturday anyway, so longer-term guests had fresh bedding too, and she didn’t want to assume he was gone for good – she’d rather believe the opposite.
She wanted to wait until evening, when Will was more likely to have finished work on Tabitha’s house for the day, and she wouldn’t have to talk while he was sorting through drawers full of paperwork or wedged half under the kitchen sink. She fiddled with the timer in Starcross, making the pinprick lights dim in and out, and tried to convince herself she wasn’t putting it off, taking time to summon up the courage to see him. If she waited until she felt completely ready, then it would never happen.
As dusk began to slip gently over the sea, muting the pinks and peaches of sunset into silky blue, the guesthouse was gleaming. Some of the guests were in their rooms, and Charles and Elisabeth, the old couple from Orkney, were enjoying a night at Taverna on the Bay on Robin’s recommendation. Outside, the promenade lamps glowed softly, competing against the growing gloom.
Robin felt a sudden determination. She would explain everything to Will and he’d forgive her, and then she would make it up to the rest of the street. They had no inkling that she’d done anything wrong, but she felt guilty for believing they’d all be so underhand, tricking Will with fake generosity. She had to make it up to them somehow, even if they never knew her motivation. She would do something that showed she was part of the community, that she could enter into the spirit as they had done, and that she appreciated the kindness they’d shown her when she returned to Campion Bay, even if Molly had had to remind her of it.
With a positive sequence of events lodged firmly in her head, and her palms only a little bit sweaty, Robin slipped on her ballet pumps and quietly left the house.
Chapter Two
The curtains of number four were drawn, but there was a slender line of golden light at one side of the window, where one had been pulled too far over. Robin took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and lifted the knocker, banging it down twice. She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease her anxiety, wanting to appear calm in front of him.
After a few moments she heard footsteps approaching from inside. The latch clicked and the door swung inwards, Will’s tall frame appearing in shadow, silhouetted against the hall light. He immediately turned away from her and started to close the door.
‘Will, wait—’
‘I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Please.’ She took a step forward, placing her foot over the threshold.
She could just make out his glance towards her foot, his face creasing in irritation as he yanked the door back open.
‘Please, Will,’ Robin tried again. ‘Let me explain.’
‘Molly’s text did that perfectly well, thanks. I have to get on.’ He looked at her foot again, but Robin stood her ground. He took a step towards her, his sigh loud, his face suddenly bathed in the glow from the street light.
Robin stared at him. She couldn’t help it. Only the day before, he had seemed relaxed, happy, laughing with her as they ran back to the guesthouse, the press of his lips so tender as he’d kissed her.
Now, his hair was, again, damp, as if he’d not long emerged from the shower, but he hadn’t shaved, and the dark smudges under his eyes told of a sleepless night. His expression was dark, closed off, and his hands, which had so recently caressed her face, were bunched into fists.
Robin swallowed. ‘Molly’s text didn’t tell the truth,’ she said. ‘She’s my friend, we have jokes and we— It seemed awful, I know that. It seemed like there was this whole, organised plan—’
‘You admitted it.’ Will gave a sharp, humourless laugh. ‘You told me that’s what happened, that you’d all been in on it together, so that you could stop your boyfriend from buying my aunt’s house and messing up your seafront. Or don’t you remember confessing all that to me?’
Robin winced at the anger in his voice, unsure which thing to refute first. She wanted to move her foot, to get comfortable – her thigh was beginning to ache – but she didn’t want to give him the opportunity to close the door before she’d said all she needed to.
‘I was wrong about so many things,’ she said. ‘I’ve spoken to Molly and there was no campaign. I thought she’d organised one – I thought she’d asked Ashley and Stefano to make you feel welcome, but she didn’t. You were a new face on the road, Tabitha’s nephew, and they were just being neighbourly. They did those things of their own accord.’
A flicker of confusion passed across his features. He looked so weary, and Robin couldn’t imagine that, even if he hadn’t been cross with her, he would have had a comfortable night in Tabitha’s house. From what she could see of the hall it was still so disorganised, so full of dust.
‘So it turns out you were a one-woman publicity campaign? Doing it all by yourself, thinking you were part of something the whole street was involved in?’
‘No!’ she said. ‘That’s not it at all! I didn’t like Molly’s idea. I wouldn’t have been involved even if it had been real. I wanted to help you, to get to know you. What happened yesterday, I had wanted … that, I had wanted to spend time with you. I’ve loved your company, being with you, from the beginning. It wasn’t anything to do with Tim or the house.’
He shook his head quickly and ran a hand over his stubble. She heard the familiar sound of paws on floorboards and Darcy appeared, her head peering round Will’s legs. The Cavapoo yelped at Robin and bounded forward, her body vibrating with happiness. Robin stroked the dog, feeling instantly soothed by her unconditional affection. She wondered if Will would object, but he barely seemed to notice.
‘How am I meant to believe that, after what you told me yesterday?’ he asked.
‘I got it wrong, Will. I thought there was a campaign, I thought that was really happening, and I didn’t like it but I – I didn’t want to tell you; I didn’t want you to feel that you weren’t welcome, that the friendship offered to you was cynical, calculating.’
She glanced behind her as footsteps and voices echoed into the dusk, people passing on their way to the town centre. Will looked over her shoulder and Robin wondered for a second if he was going to invite her in, but he didn’t.
‘So,’ he said, his eyes creasing at the edges. ‘You thought there was a campaign, but there wasn’t? But you didn’t tell me what you thought was going on, or that your childhood sweetheart had designs on my aunt’s house, and had been sniffing around it even before I arrived? You knew all this, and you kept it from me while I confided in you about my dad, about Tabitha’s past. You reeled me in, making me trust you, while all the time you were hiding things from me, being loyal to your ex, who – let’s face it – doesn’t seem to be fully out of the picture. Is that about right?’
‘No, Will! Tim and I—’
‘Have you been playing us off against each other while you try to decide who you want next door?’
‘That couldn’t be further from the truth!’ She felt panic well up inside her, tried to remember Molly’s words, the ones she had used to explain the simple misunderstanding. ‘Nothing I’ve done has been false. I care about you. Tim and I – it’s over! It has been for well over a decade.’
He stared at her, his green eyes narrowed and, somehow, duller, while Darcy sat silently next to him. Robin was struck all over again by how much she cared about them both, despite their short acquaintance. She couldn’t lose them.
‘You lied to me, Robin,’ he said. His voice was quieter, defeated rather than angry. ‘You kept Tim’s plans from me, and you believed that your friends were tricking me into staying. It doesn’t matter that they weren’t – you didn’t tell me about it. You’ve been keeping me in the dark about everything, and I—’ His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. ‘I can’t trust you. Please.’ He gestured towards her foot, and Robin, her hope fading at his last words, stepped back. Her leg had gone dead, the pins and needles catching her off balance, and she put a hand on the w
all to steady herself.
‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,’ she said, as he started to close the door. ‘At least come back to Starcross – you can’t be getting any sleep staying here. Will, I—’ But it was too late, and she found herself speaking to the black paint of Tabitha’s front door. She listened to the footsteps receding inside and then, with a stomach that felt like it was full of iced water, turned away from number four and went back to the guesthouse.
Molly appeared ten minutes after Robin had texted her, a bottle in her hand. Robin poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her friend. Eclipse bounded on to her lap with springlike dexterity and an adorable chirrup, and Robin buried her face in his fur, breathing in his clean, kittenish smell.
‘So what did he say?’ Molly asked, slipping off her pumps and tucking her feet beneath her.
Robin wrapped her hands round the bowl of her glass. ‘I tried to explain, to make it clear that it was a misunderstanding – just like you’d said. It sounded so innocuous the way you put it.’
‘And?’
‘He says he can’t trust me any more. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust me either.’
Molly leaned forward. ‘What exactly did he say? Tell me from the beginning.’
Robin recounted their conversation, the fact that Will hadn’t invited her inside, so it had played out on the doorstep, the way he had seemed at first angry and then defeated, and how even the admission that there had been no campaign, that the acts of kindness had been genuine, hadn’t lifted his spirits. When she’d finished, she looked up at Molly, waiting for the verdict. She hoped her friend could find some glimmer of hope, because Robin was struggling to.
Molly drummed her fingers against her lips. ‘Do you know what I think it is?’ she said. ‘I think it’s more that you didn’t tell him about Tim. You’d worked on Tabitha’s house with him, and hadn’t explained what Tim was up to, even after Tim had been round to see you both. It’s Will’s house now, and he felt that you should have been honest about what Campion Bay Property was planning – even if you didn’t know the details. Plus, it’s Tim, isn’t it?’
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