Do Not Disturb

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Robin sipped her wine, but it tasted too acidic. She didn’t want alcohol: she wanted a mug of hot chocolate with squirty cream and some of her home-baked midnight cookies.

  ‘I don’t think it helps that Tim is your ex. Whatever Will’s feeling about what’s happened, it’s a lot more complicated because he cares about you, Robin. As I said before, he wouldn’t be so bothered if you were just another resident of Goldcrest Road. It’s only been a couple of weeks. He could wipe the slate clean. But he can’t do that with you, because so much has already happened.

  ‘He’s developed feelings, and then suddenly he finds out that you’ve been holding things back from him, the biggest of which is to do with your handsome, successful ex-boyfriend. I’m guessing,’ Molly said, leaning forward and rubbing Eclipse’s paws, ‘he’s a big bundle of confusion, hurt, attraction and jealousy, and he needs to wait for it all to settle so he can figure out which of those emotions rises to the top. I’m confident it will be attraction.’

  Robin thought of the way Will had suggested Tim wasn’t fully out of the picture, the bitterness in his voice as he’d accused her of playing them off against each other. What Molly said made a lot of sense. ‘You think so?’

  Molly nodded determinedly. ‘I do.’

  Robin sat back on the sofa, her nerves settling slightly. ‘He looked so tired, Molly. It can’t be comfortable staying at Tabitha’s house with the dirt and the cobwebs. I don’t even know if there’s a bed in a good enough state for him to sleep in.’

  ‘He’s cut off his nose to spite his face, moving back next door,’ Molly agreed. ‘Even if he decides to chance it at the Seaview Hotel, he’s not exactly on to a winner, is he? I bet that’s adding to the disgruntlement. Chances are, he’ll realise how much he’s missing out on by being cross with you, and he’ll come back with his tail between his legs.’

  Robin gave her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Molly. Thanks for talking it all through with me, for stopping me from going mad.’

  ‘Hey. It was my ridiculousness, my text, that created this situation in the first place. It’s my duty as your friend to help you clear it up. But for now, let out Starcross. Did you get his security number for the payment?’

  Robin stared at her for a moment, then shook her head. ‘I didn’t get a chance. I’ll have to text him.’ The thought of asking him such a perfunctory question via text made her slightly nauseous, but she didn’t have a choice.

  ‘Try not to worry about it,’ Molly said. ‘He’s angry, but he’s a decent guy. He’ll pay up, and then you can get on with running the guesthouse while he cools off. At least he’s still in Campion Bay, and if the house is still a tip then I doubt he’s going anywhere any time soon.’

  ‘I’ve got time,’ Robin murmured. Molly’s words about Will cutting off his nose to spite his face had started her thinking. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to talk to her now, to accept her apology, but would he turn down a package from the guesthouse; a few creature comforts to make sleeping and eating at Tabitha’s house more bearable? Could she appeal to him in that way?

  Molly nodded. ‘I’ll go round in the next couple of days, explain about the campaign misunderstanding, add my weight to your cause – if you think that would help? In the meantime, you’d best get on with things here and let it all play out in his head. He’ll soon realise that what you’ve done isn’t all that bad, and that you deserve his forgiveness.’

  Robin looked down at her phone, thinking it would be better to text Will now and get it out of the way, and tried to imagine Starcross with a new guest staying in it. ‘Do you want a hot chocolate?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got marshmallows, and cookies.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’ Molly laughed. ‘Bring on the comfort food.’

  The next day Robin took her friend’s advice and threw herself into running the guesthouse. The May day was blustery, but it wasn’t raining any more, and the damp pavements were drying, the sand at the top of the beach fading to pale, soft gold that Robin could imagine beneath her feet.

  Katy and Dean were off on their wildlife boat tour, and over breakfast were making a list of all the things they were hoping to see.

  ‘I’d love to see puffins. Do you get them down here?’ Katy looked up expectantly.

  Robin screwed her nose up. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe. If there’s one thing I’m not very good on, it’s the wildlife around here.’

  ‘I want to see an osprey,’ said Dean.

  Katy rolled her eyes. ‘Trust you! And a shark, no doubt. How about a whale?’

  Dean pursed his lips, considering this. ‘They must pass along this way sometimes, when they get lost.’

  ‘Oh my God. Talk about high expectations! When we see a couple of seagulls and a bit of driftwood, you’re going to want your money back.’

  ‘Trust me. This trip is going to be awesome.’ He gave his girlfriend such a confident look that Robin almost believed he would be able to conjure up giant sea creatures. She felt a stab of envy, longing for the wind in her hair and sea spray on her face.

  ‘You know,’ Paige said, as they tidied up the kitchen after breakfast, ‘I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never been on a boat trip around the coast.’

  Robin stared at her. ‘Never? Not even when there was that dodgy little charter that moored up next to the crazy golf and puttered up to the cliffs and back?’

  ‘When was that?’ Paige frowned, pulling her ponytail tighter.

  ‘Ah. It was when I was a teenager. Sorry, I always forget that—’

  ‘That I’m sixteen?’ Paige asked. She smiled, shaking her head slowly. ‘Yeah, I wasn’t out of nappies when you went off to university. Maybe you’re starting to get me confused with Mum. Can you get dementia in your thirties?’

  ‘Haha.’ Robin threw a tea towel in Paige’s direction. She could see so much of Molly’s cheekiness in her daughter, and knew that she would be able to achieve whatever she wanted to. Luckily for Robin, at the moment that meant working for her at the guesthouse when she didn’t need to be in college.

  ‘Adam and his friends hired a boat to investigate the caves once,’ Paige said. ‘The ones you can’t get to from the beach even at low tide, a lot further round the cliffs. I didn’t fancy it. It sounded like a recipe for disaster.’

  ‘You’re wise beyond your years. I assume they all came back safely?’

  ‘They did, but I’m not sure how far they actually got. Adam says they saw loads, and that it was really interesting, but I reckon they chickened out pretty early. You’d have to be skilled to get boats inside some of those caves without smashing against the rock.’

  ‘Ugh!’ Robin shuddered, thinking of the wild beach and its dark, snug recesses in the cliffs. That inevitably reminded her that she’d taken Will there, only two days before, and that she’d started to open up to him. She wanted him to know that she’d already told him more than she’d told most people, and that of course he could trust her, but she’d got things spectacularly wrong.

  ‘I’m off now then,’ Paige said, waving her hand in Robin’s face.

  Robin blinked her daydreams away. ‘Thanks so much, Paige. See you tomorrow.’

  Once Paige had left and the guesthouse settled into quiet, Robin took a deep breath and climbed up to the third floor. It was time to get Starcross ready for new guests. She’d been putting it off, but she had to accept that Will was gone and right now it looked as though he wasn’t coming back.

  The room was sparkling by the time she’d finished, the telescope gleaming, all signs that Will and Darcy had ever been there gone. Bundling the linen and towels into the washing machine, Robin turned to the small wicker hamper on the kitchen table.

  It was empty at the moment, but she set about filling it with luxury teabags, a few packets of biscuits and a bag of chocolate coffee beans that she’d meant to put in Sea Shanty for the guests to help themselves to. She added mini bottles of the toiletries she put in every bathroom and then, smili
ng to herself, popped in a packet of the mature cheddar she loved so much, a small jar of Hellman’s mayonnaise and a fat, silky garlic bulb.

  It was a slightly odd hamper, but she hoped Will would appreciate it, would understand what she was trying to do and at least be able to accept this small token of apology from her. Before she had time to think whether or not it was a sensible idea, Robin raced outside, put it on his front doorstep and ran back to the guesthouse, feeling like a schoolgirl who had almost been caught playing knock down ginger.

  Throughout the week Robin made the guesthouse gleam, using all the energy that she had begun to spend on being with Will, helping Will, thinking about Will. Now, she treated the Campion Bay Guesthouse as her most prized possession, and gave it all her attention. She made more midnight cookies, perfected a Canadian stack recipe of thin crepes, streaky bacon, blueberries and maple syrup that she would serve as a special on Sundays, and burned a vanilla lime Yankee candle in Sea Shanty while she drew up plans for marketing campaigns and special offers.

  The weather was getting warmer, and she started opening the windows, filling the guesthouse with the crisp, seaside air and the sound of the waves that she found so irresistible. She revisited Seagull Street Gallery and spent a full ten minutes standing in front of Arthur Durrant’s new nightscape, drinking in the textures, the sensation of night drawing in around her, the dots of white paint that so clearly became twinkling lights in the darkness. She left invigorated, and with five new miniature paintings in her jute bag, one for each of the bedrooms. They were all by the same artist, all striking designs in bright colours. There were cheerful beach hut paintings for Rockpool and Canvas, wildflower landscapes for Wilderness and Andalusia, and a sunset for Starcross, the sun a glowing orb hovering above the horizon, a few stars beginning to show in the blue of the gathering dusk.

  She realised that, while renovating the guesthouse had been a huge project, and she’d been delighted with how it had looked on opening day, it would never be truly finished. Like everything, it would evolve over time, needing frequent changes to keep it fresh and interesting. It was something she had learned working with Neve on Once in a Blue Moon Days: the things that had once been fashionable and exclusive soon became commonplace, and searching out new and thrilling experiences was a constant challenge. Once in a Blue Moon Days, Neve had said, is more than a great name: it’s how we have to approach our work. We have to imagine that we’re reaching for the moon every time, and we don’t want to fall short.

  Robin missed her every day. Not just her calmness, her words of wisdom, but those huge dark eyes always full of the brightness of life. Neve had been a whirlwind of enthusiasm and positivity, and some of it had rubbed off on Robin. She had felt invincible when she was working with her, but it was like the glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling: they absorbed and held on to light for only so long, emitting their own glow. After a while, they needed another charge, another burst of light. Neve was no longer here to provide that, and Robin sometimes felt that, without her, she was dull and uninspired.

  But the Campion Bay Guesthouse was helping her recapture her sparkle. She could be creative for her guests, she could continue to improve the rooms, try new recipes and new ways of adding the luxury that she hoped her business would be known for.

  And now she had a side project too, one that didn’t take up much time but had, so far, been unsuccessful. The first hamper she had left for Will hadn’t been touched, and she had collected it the following day, feeling deflated. He had to take Darcy out for walks, and so he couldn’t have failed to notice it. But she wasn’t going to give up so easily, and so she had redone it, replacing the packet biscuits with some of her home-baked cookies, and adding some dog treats for Darcy.

  This one, too, had been left on the doorstep, though a grin had spread across her face when, putting it back on the kitchen table, she noticed the dog treats had gone. Perhaps Will felt that, because Darcy wasn’t cross with her, she could take advantage of Robin’s hospitality. It had given her a surge of hope and she had repackaged it again, adding new luxuries, placing it calmly back on the doorstep of number four. Will might not be staying in Starcross any longer, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still pamper him like one of her guests.

  She had said goodbye to Charles and Elisabeth, to Katy and Dean and, as it was Saturday, would be welcoming new guests into most of her rooms. As lunchtime approached, she got the familiar tightening of nerves in her stomach, wondering if the strangers she’d be greeting would like their rooms, what they would be like, if she’d get anything wrong or encounter any trouble.

  The woman who rang the doorbell shortly after three seemed like the exact opposite of trouble. She was whippet thin, with long straight hair that was almost black, pale skin and dark-blue eyes. She was wearing a leather jacket that nipped in at the waist and Doc Marten boots, and held a small canvas bag in one hand and a guitar case in the other.

  ‘Hello?’ Robin asked, smiling. ‘Are you Lorna?’

  The woman’s eyes widened momentarily, and then she nodded. ‘Yes. I’m in Rockpool, I think. For a week.’

  ‘That’s right. Welcome to the Campion Bay Guesthouse. Let me check you in.’ Robin invited her in and took her bag.

  Once the GuestSmart software was happy, she led Lorna up to her room. ‘Can I offer you afternoon tea? I’ve got English Breakfast, Early Grey, Lapsang Souchong and Assam, and some fruit and herbal teas. There’s also a selection of fresh cakes, and you can have something here in your room, or downstairs in Sea Shanty. I’m around this afternoon, and you’re very welcome to join me.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lorna said, her voice so soft that Robin had to strain to hear. ‘But I’m fine. I’m going to take some time to settle in. Do you play the piano? I saw one, downstairs.’

  Robin smiled sheepishly. ‘I used to, when I was little. I’ve got ambitions to brush up on my skills, but I never seem to find the time.’ Or I forget everything else and burn my dinner, she added silently, picturing Will standing in the doorway of the smoky kitchen, and what had happened afterwards – his bare torso as he tried to sneak up to his room in only his boxer shorts. ‘You play the guitar?’ she asked, gesturing towards the case Lorna had rested against the wall.

  ‘I do. Though … I’ve had a break from it, too. I’m hoping that being somewhere new, with a bit more time on my hands, will help me get back into it. If, uhm …’ She paused, her blue eyes wary. ‘Is it OK if I play in the room?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Robin said. ‘If it had been a violin or a drum kit, then I’d have to think about it, but I can’t imagine you’ll disturb the other guests. You don’t have a powerful amp hidden in your bag, do you?’ She grinned, but Lorna shook her head, her face serious.

  ‘No, it’s not electric.’

  ‘You can even play downstairs, if you want to. The acoustics might be better in Sea Shanty. But it’s up to you – you don’t have to do anything you don’t want,’ Robin added quickly, when Lorna’s flat expression turned momentarily to horror.

  ‘That’s kind.’ Lorna’s voice was a whisper. Robin could see that she was agitated, pressing her hands under her armpits. She was timid and uncertain, but there was something about her, a suppressed energy, the way her large eyes were constantly flitting about, that reminded her of Neve.

  ‘We could do a duet,’ she said, trying to help the girl relax, ‘as long as you can play “Chopsticks” on the guitar, and have a lot of patience.’ She laughed gently, and Lorna smiled.

  ‘I remember learning that, and “Frère Jacques” on the recorder. I drove my mum and dad mad, playing those tunes over and over. I think they regretted buying the piano for a while. At least I could play the recorder in my bedroom.’

  ‘My go-to tune on the recorder was “Greensleeves”.’ Robin started humming it, trying to add a strangled, squeaky edge to it, mimicking the sound the recorder made when it was blown too hard.

  Lorna laughed, her eyes lighting up. ‘That takes me back.�
�� She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hair over her shoulder. ‘Practice makes perfect, but sometimes practice is torturous.’

  ‘Even so,’ Robin said, grinning, ‘you’re very welcome to play – here or downstairs. I’d love to hear you, though I know how daunting it can be, playing in front of other people, especially if you don’t know them.’

  ‘Thank you. I love playing for people. I haven’t done it for a while, though.’ A flicker of a frown passed over Lorna’s face, before being replaced by her gentle smile. ‘I can already tell that coming here is going to do me good. Sea air, new horizons and all that!’

  ‘It works wonders,’ Robin agreed. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Please let me know if you need anything – anything at all.’ She closed the door behind her and hurried down the stairs, feeling an instant warmth for the young woman, and wondering what had happened to make her so nervous, when it was obvious that there was a bright, excitable personality bubbling below the surface, desperate to get out.

  A misty drizzle had begun to fall by the time Robin had checked her final guests, Len and Kim, into Andalusia. They were a married couple in their fifties, with East End accents and polished, pearly grins. They had quizzed Robin on the best pubs in the area, and Kim had squeezed Eclipse tightly when he’d come to investigate the new visitors. The kitten – who was growing bigger and more stealthy every day – had put up with it for several minutes, before wriggling free and stalking off down the corridor.

  ‘I have two Ragdoll cats,’ Kim explained. ‘Annie and Oliver. They’re total darlings, the perfect lap cats.’

  ‘Got no nous about them, though,’ Len added. ‘No pouncing, no fighting instinct. Like the name, they’re a pair of dolls. Floppy. Weird creatures.’

  ‘He loves them,’ Kim said, giving Robin a heavily mascaraed wink. ‘Falls asleep in front of Match of the Day with the two of them snoozing like furry medals on his chest. He’s a proper softie.’