‘I might head back to the cottage for a nap,’ I said, feeling every bit as lazy as I no doubt sounded, ‘or I might have a wander further along the coast. I’m not sure yet.’
‘Depending on the tide, you might enjoy a spot of rock pooling while the sun’s still out,’ Sam suggested.
I was very much looking forward to revisiting the pools, not that Sam knew I had explored them before, but I wanted to save them until the moment felt right. They had always been such a highlight and that was exactly how I wanted to keep them.
‘And further along, just over the nearest groyne, there are some beach huts,’ he continued.
‘I noticed those this morning,’ I swallowed, ‘when I was walking on the beach.’
‘They’re always a popular spot,’ he went on, lowering his voice a little, ‘for one reason or another.’
I looked up and our eyes met for the briefest of seconds. I felt my breath catch in my throat as his gaze flicked to my lips and back up again. Was it possible that he knew? No, it was just my imagination. It had to be.
‘Occasionally, there’ll be one available to rent,’ he carried on sounding perfectly normal again. He reached for a cloth and began wiping down the already flawless bar. ‘So, keep an eye out for any signs hung on the doors, if you fancy it, that is.’
‘I will,’ I said huskily.
‘And then of course there’s Sophie’s café back the other way,’ he reminded me. ‘Visitors are always welcome there.’
‘It seems to me that visitors are welcome everywhere in Wynmouth,’ I pointed out.
‘More or less,’ Sam laughed but then his brow creased, ‘although unfortunately, there never seems to be quite enough of them these days.’
I looked around again, there were still only a very few customers.
‘But surely it will be busier next week,’ I pointed out, ‘what with the bank holiday weekend at the end of it.’ Sam didn’t look convinced. ‘And aren’t the schools on half-term too? I bet you and the other local businesses have loads planned to keep the tills ringing then.’
If they hadn’t, then they should have. In a village like Wynmouth, May bank holiday weekend should have marked the start of the summer season, but that was my marketing head talking and I wasn’t supposed to be using that.
‘What have you got planned for the pub?’ I couldn’t resist asking nonetheless.
Sam bit his lip but didn’t answer.
‘Don’t tell me, you haven’t organized anything at all, not even for the weekend?’
‘Not yet,’ he said, avoiding eye contact by focusing on folding the cloth into a neat square, ‘but it’s all in hand.’ He added, nodding at a notebook which looked as though it had a few scribbles in it.
It didn’t look much like a properly thought out promotional strategy to me, but I did have one suggestion that could swell his coffers a little.
‘Well, as we’re on the topic of increasing revenue,’ I carried on, trying to smile winningly, ‘I was wondering—’
‘Were we talking about that?’ he cut in.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘sort of.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I was wondering,’ I said again, ‘if there might be a possibility of you letting me stay on in the cottage for longer than two weeks, should I decide I want to.’
It was a reckless suggestion, given that I’d only stayed for one night so far, but I wanted to know if it might be a possibility. I was the most organized, disciplined and scheduled person I knew (if you discounted my father and at that moment I did), and it was going to take me some time to shake off the shackles and chill out.
I had some potentially life-changing decisions to make, as well as Mum’s diary to read and come to terms with, and the two-week timebomb ticking in my ears wasn’t the sort of pressure I needed on this occasion. As a rule, it would have been ideal, but this trip to Wynmouth was all about breaking the rules.
‘Well,’ said Sam, as he rubbed his hand around the back of his neck, ‘I’m really not sure about that.’
‘In your email,’ I hastily reminded him, ‘you told me that you were taking the place off the holiday market, didn’t you? Madness really, as you’re heading into the summer season . . .’
‘Yes,’ he conceded, ‘I did, but that was because—’
‘So, it’s just going to be sitting there empty anyway.’
‘I suppose,’ he shrugged. ‘Although I am planning to—’
‘I’m talking about a month at least,’ I interrupted, throwing caution to the wind and imagining four whole stress-free weeks stretching ahead of me, ‘and I’m prepared to pay the going rental rate. More than that, if necessary.’
Sam looked a little taken aback.
‘Don’t make a decision now,’ I said, hopping down from the bar stool I had been perched on and making for the door. ‘Have a think about it, and I’ll come back and pay you in a few days.’
‘That rather sounds like you’re assuming I’ll say yes,’ he called after me.
‘I have a feeling,’ I responded, as I stepped outside and breathed in the fresh sea air, ‘that you won’t be able to resist.’
Chapter 5
The euphoric thrill of being back in Wynmouth, along with excitement derived from making the rash request to lengthen my visit, stayed with me all of that day and part of the way into the next. Had I not then been confined to barracks because of the relentless rain and biting wind, I daresay the feeling might have stayed with me even longer, but by the end of Thursday, having struggled to keep my hands off my phone and having read the rest of Mum’s first couple of diary entries, I was feeling pretty low.
There was a level of acceptance and resignation as Mum described her feelings about seeing Dad out with another woman and I found that more depressing than anything. She had obviously been so in love with him that she was prepared to put up with the humiliation and I hated the fact that not only had her life had been cut so cruelly short, but that the last few years of it had been so miserable. If only she had confided in me . . .
Without the benefit of my regular work routine or the sunny beach to walk on and now more of Mum’s sad words ringing in my ears, my mood had become as dark as the inside of the cottage and I was tempted to retract my request of a month’s rental, but I didn’t.
‘You’re just going through a period of readjustment,’ I told myself, as I returned the diary to the drawer and stoked the fire. ‘You aren’t used to such a dramatic drop in your activity levels and you’re bound to feel overwhelmed by these shocking revelations.’
I lay, curled up on the sofa under a blanket and gave the weather beyond the window a hard stare. This was not what I had signed up for. I toyed with the idea of going back to the pub for a few hours. I could take a book and pretend I was reading as I watched the world go by. At least there were other folk there, even if they were few and far between, but then, given everything else I had to deal with, I reckoned I didn’t need the distraction of the beguiling green eyes which belonged to the lovely landlord on top of everything else.