Читать книгу The Once in a Blue Moon Guesthouse: The perfect feelgood romance - Cressida McLaughlin, Cressida McLaughlin - Страница 12

Robin pressed her hand against the blue plaque next to the tall, black front door with the brass knocker and remembered, when she’d been much smaller, standing up on tiptoes to try and touch the cool, smooth surface. Now it was level with her shoulder. She read the familiar words: Jane Austen, 1775–1817, Noted Novelist, stayed here during the summer of 1804.

Why would it be here if it wasn’t true? Why was everyone so sceptical about it? It wasn’t just Molly who laughed it off whenever she mentioned it; her mum and dad had never entirely believed it, and Tim had always rolled his eyes. She’d read Persuasion, and lots of it was set in Dorset. Lyme Regis with its Cobb wasn’t far away, so surely it was plausible. And what reason could Tabitha have had to fabricate it? Maybe, now that Will was here, with his knowledge of historical houses, they would be able to get to the bottom of it. Maybe he knew the truth already.

She lifted the brass knocker to announce her arrival, but the heavy door moved forward a fraction and Robin realized it wasn’t closed. She pushed it slowly inwards, peering into the gloom.

The first thing that she noticed was the dust. The air was thick with it, dancing in the shaft of sunlight she’d let in, and there was a pervading smell of damp.

‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Door-to-door tea service?’ She stood in the hallway, listening, her eyes drawn to the telephone table below a gold-framed mirror hanging over thick green wallpaper, a white, rotary-dial telephone almost glowing in the sunlight. She had a vivid memory of lifting the heavy receiver, dragging the dial round with her finger, calling random numbers purely because it was so much more exotic than her parents’ push-button telephone.

‘Hello?’ she tried again, and this time she heard a series of clunks and bashes from upstairs, and then Darcy appeared, padding slowly down the stairs as if she wasn’t used to such a steep descent.

Robin crouched and put the cup of tea on the floor, already rehearsing her counter-argument for when Will finally made an appearance and discovered his drink was no longer hot. ‘Darcy,’ she whispered, holding out her arms as the small dog came towards her, and gathering her into an embrace. ‘You’re so cute,’ she whispered. The dog licked her chin and, putting a paw up on her shoulder, let out a sound that was halfway between a bark and a whine. Robin laughed, kissing her on the head, her fur impossibly soft.

‘Where’s Will?’ she asked. ‘Where’s your master?’

‘Master? I like the sound of that.’ She heard him before she saw him, his boots heavy on the stairs, and when he appeared in the dim light of the hall he was drying his hands on a piece of old sheet. Robin could see that he was soaked again, and also filthy, with dark streaks on his T-shirt and black smudges across his forehead and cheeks.

‘I brought you tea,’ she said, pointing at the mug but refusing to release her grip on Darcy. ‘What happened? Did you find the leak, or have you been investigating the chimney?’

He ignored her last remark. ‘I’ve found one of them. The roof is in serious need of repair, but I think the plumbing’s shot too. I doubt if Tabitha had any maintenance work done here in the last five, or even ten years. This place is a mess.’

Robin nodded slowly, glancing around. ‘How do you know that?’

Will frowned, crouched in front of her and picked up his tea, nodding his gratitude as he sipped it. ‘Thank you for this. What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ she said, ‘how do you know it’s a mess when everywhere’s so dark? It’s like a classic haunted house.’ She winced when she realized what she’d said. ‘Sorry, that was insensitive.’

Will shook his head. ‘I get your point, but I blew the fuses when I tried to turn on the light last night, and one of them needs replacing before I can get the electricity working.’

‘So why not use that most exciting and recent of inventions?’ Robin let go of Darcy, stood and moved towards the room on the right of the hallway, but tripped on something she couldn’t see and bashed her shoulder against the wall.

‘What’s that?’ Will asked, following her. He touched her arm gently, whether to get her attention or steady her, Robin wasn’t sure.

Undeterred, Robin found the edge of the curtain and pulled it dramatically backwards. ‘Sunlight,’ she announced, the word becoming a splutter as the movement released at least a year’s worth of dust into the air. She turned away, coughing into her hands.

‘Great reveal,’ Will said, deadpan. ‘Go as well as you’d planned?’ His cough was deep but efficient, and Robin thought he was probably used to clearing his throat in rooms full of dust.

She tried to give him a withering look, but her eyes were streaming. She blinked just in time to see Will’s jaw tighten, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the room.

Robin did the same.

It was Tabitha’s living room. The solid, green, William Morris-patterned sofas facing each other, the lace runners along the backs discoloured an unappealing yellow, the cherry wood coffee table matching the dresser on which were a number of small china sheep. The rest of the collection, she knew, were in glass cabinets in the dining room on the opposite side of the hall. Robin had played cards in here, eating Tabitha’s homemade scones thick with unsalted butter. Gin Rummy, Snap, sometimes dominoes. Even Tim, she remembered, liked coming round to see Tabitha, and they’d often stayed until they were called back next door for dinner.

Why hadn’t she kept in touch with her properly? Robin felt a surge of anger at herself. The older woman had been so much a part of her childhood, but had quickly become out of sight and out of mind once she’d moved to London, rarely seeing her on her return visits to Campion Bay. Either she’d been too caught up with Tim, or – after they’d broken up – the fledgling business she was starting with Neve. Planning, researching locations and luxuries, her head in London even if, physically, she was spending a weekend in her parents’ company. Time had passed almost without her noticing, a part of her thinking that Tabitha would always be here. But of course that wasn’t true, and now it was too late.

She pushed the anger aside. Tabitha hadn’t been her relative; this must be so much harder for Will, and he hadn’t moved a muscle.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Yeah, of course. It’s just strange, seeing it now, like this.’

‘When was the last time you saw her?’ Robin asked, running her fingers along the back of a sofa.

‘About six months before she died. And I didn’t even know she was ill. I couldn’t get down as often as I wanted to – I didn’t come as often as I could have. And I should have …’ He shook his head, hands on his waist as he looked around the room. The bedraggled sheet was sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans, looking like a ridiculous tail.

‘Should have what?’

‘I should have come here before now. It wouldn’t have seemed so …’

‘Intimidating? Difficult? Monumental?’

He flashed her a look that could have been irritation, but it disappeared in a smile of resignation. ‘Impossible. It’s going to take months to get anywhere.’

‘So you will have to look for work round here?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve got some money set aside, but it looks like I’ll need to supplement it. I can turn my hand to whatever’s needed – odd jobs, estate management – and tourist season on the south coast should throw up some possibilities. Once I get the electricity sorted out, clear a small patch of calm in amongst all this, I can start looking at job sites.’

‘You can do that next door,’ Robin said. ‘You’ve got Starcross, or Sea Shanty, the room downstairs. Guests will come and go, and I’ll be there a lot of the time, but it shouldn’t be too distracting. I can see you wouldn’t want to spend every day working on this – it’ll be draining.’

Will nodded, his eyes narrowed as he looked over his aunt’s belongings. ‘Thank you.’

Robin bit her lip. ‘And I could … I could help you, here. Sometimes.’

Was she really offering this? She’d just opened up a new guesthouse, and should be spending all her time and energy getting comfortable with the routine. But, perhaps because she didn’t have the same weight of responsibility as Will had, because Tabitha had been a neighbour and not a relative, a happy part of her childhood, she saw the task as intriguing, a treasure-trove of the past to investigate. Something Will might relish in his usual line of work, but which he was too close to see without feelings crowding in on top of him. There were bound to be spiders and grime and mess, but Robin wasn’t bothered by any of that. Molly would probably be more upset because Robin would have to delay her manicure.

Will turned to face her, his arms dropping to his sides. ‘I can’t ask you to help me.’

‘You’re not asking, I’m offering.’

He took a step towards her. ‘I could just sell it, leave it to whoever buys it to sort out. If a developer was interested, then none of this would matter.’

Robin pictured Tim rubbing his hands with glee, his blue eyes alight at the prospect. ‘But would that be doing justice to your aunt? Leaving everything like this, not going through it? It’s not going to be easy, but maybe if it’s not just you and Darcy, then it will seem more manageable.’

They both watched as the dog explored the room, her short tail sticking up excitedly, wagging as she delved into the darkest corners.

‘Where did Darcy come from?’ Robin asked. ‘I know I’m being judgmental, but I wouldn’t have put the two of you together. What is she, a cockapoo?’

‘Cavapoo,’ Will said, giving her a quick glance. ‘And no offence taken. I had a neighbour, when I lived in Beckenham. Selina. We exchanged pleasantries, but nothing more than that. She was going to Seville for three weeks.’ He ran his hand back and forward through his hair, absent-mindedly. ‘She couldn’t take Darcy with her, and asked if I’d be happy to look after her while she was gone. She told me Darcy’d had a bad reaction to a previous kennel visit, that she couldn’t bear the thought of her being locked away. I didn’t have much experience with dogs, my family were never pet people, but she’d always seemed well-behaved. As you can see, she’s not much trouble.’

As he said this, Darcy tried to back out from underneath a table and knocked a vase off the top of it.

‘Perfect timing,’ Will said, smiling gently. The vase seemed to have survived its fall to the thick carpet, but neither Will nor Robin moved forward to be certain.

‘What happened to Selina?’ Robin asked, her voice almost a whisper. ‘Why didn’t she come back for Darcy?’ A catalogue of horrendous things fired through her head, culminating in a memory rather than a fantasy; a night that still replayed itself to Robin in flashbacks and nightmares. The ambulance, blue lights in the darkness, screams and shouts and running feet.

‘She met someone,’ Will said, shrugging. ‘She said he was her soul mate, and that she wasn’t coming back to London. She’d organize her belongings, but could I take Darcy to a rescue centre?’ He shook his head, sucking air in through his lips at the memory, and Robin tried to hear him past the pounding in her ears. ‘I’d spent nearly a month with Darcy by this point, and it … well, there was no way I could see her going into a cage, however temporary it might be. So’ – he flung his arms wide – ‘me and Darcy, BFFs forever. She came with me when I moved into Downe Hall. She thinks she’s in charge of the gardens.’ He turned to her, his smile dropping as he saw her expression. ‘Are you OK? You look pale.’

‘I – I’m fine,’ Robin managed. Her heart was thumping, her mind swirling with unwelcome emotions. It had been a long time since she’d been overcome so unexpectedly with the horror of that night. She thought she had reached a place of control, able to access the memory and the grief when she chose to, then put them neatly back in their box. She stared down at her shoulder, realizing the weight she felt was Will’s hand. She thought about blaming the dust, but he didn’t seem like the kind of person who could be easily fobbed off.

‘Do you want to get some fresh air?’ he asked. ‘You don’t have to help me. It was an offer over and above the remit of guesthouse owner, or friend, even.’

Robin peered out of the window, but it was so smeared she could only see a hazy approximation of the promenade and the sea beyond. ‘Fresh air would be good. But that doesn’t mean I’m bailing on you so soon after offering. What time do you want your next break?’

Will glanced at his watch, but before he’d had a chance to reply Darcy started barking, her yelps short and high-pitched. She raced across the room, weaving between table legs, and sat behind Will, her tongue sticking out.

‘What was all that about?’ Will’s tone was more curious than anxious.

‘Ah.’ Robin pointed to the far corner of the room, giggling with relief as her composure began to return. ‘Not a great hunter, then?’

Will looked in the direction of her finger, then raised his eyebrows and shook his head slowly. ‘It’s not even a rat, Darcy. It’s just a mouse. A tiny, helpless little mouse.’ The dog whimpered in response. ‘Come on then, let’s get some fresh air as well.’

Robin stepped into the sunshine and waited for Will and Darcy to join her on the top step. ‘When shall I bring you more tea?’

‘You don’t have to, Robin. You’ve helped me enough already.’

‘I’m only next door, and I’ve got full access to a kettle and electricity.’

Will looked down at her, his eyes searching her face. ‘Let me sort out my own lunch. I’ll take Darcy along the prom and see what I can find, but maybe later this afternoon?’

‘Done,’ she said, pleased with the compromise. ‘I have a feeling that it’s easy to get lost in that house if you spend too long inside.’

‘I might risk opening a few more curtains when I get back.’

‘Brave move, Mr Nightingale.’

‘No less than Bear Grylls would attempt.’ He flashed her a quick grin and then jogged down the stairs, leaving Robin standing on Tabitha’s top step with only the plaque for company, wondering why she was being quite so helpful to a man she’d only just met.

‘Tabitha’s nephew?’ Molly asked, leaning over the white desk in her airy reception area and pouring another sugar sachet into her tea. ‘Where did he come from? I didn’t know about any of Tabitha’s family. Mind you, she wasn’t the chattiest to me, always bright and breezy but never that forthcoming.’

Robin screwed her nose up, thinking back. ‘I’m not sure she was ever like that with me, though I guess it’s different when you’re young. I never looked for moods or motives, just took advantage of her friendliness. But I’m almost certain she never mentioned a nephew to me either.’

‘And you didn’t even have to offer him a cup of sugar,’ Molly said, grinning. ‘He played right into your hands. And what did he think of Starcross? Think its magic will work on him?’

‘Magic? What do you mean?’

‘All that astrology stuff. It’s not just a room for stargazers, is it?’

‘It’s a room for whoever wants to stay in it,’ Robin replied sniffily. Neve’s influence on the room had collided with her thoughts about Will even though she’d known him for less than twelve hours, and that was after thinking that Tim’s return to her life was significant. She was going to wish she’d never picked cosmic destiny as part of the room’s inspiration – or at the very least she would have to do some research into how it worked, instead of believing every encounter with a person of the opposite sex had a special meaning.

‘Get you, Robin!’ Molly laughed. ‘You’ve already thought about it, haven’t you? I want all the details. What’s he like? What’s he going to do with the house, and on a scale of one to ten, how sexy is he?’

Robin sank back into Molly’s white leather sofa, wondering briefly if any of the grime from Tabitha’s house was still clinging to her and was about to upset the pristine simplicity of Groom with a View.

‘He’s nice,’ she started, noncommittally, ‘and his dog is adorable. I think he’s a bit overwhelmed by having to deal with Tabitha’s house on his own – I have no idea where the rest of her family is. If he’s her nephew, then she’s at least got a brother – or a sister who kept her own surname – somewhere.’

‘Unless they’re dead, and it’s all been left to Will.’

Robin tipped her head on one side, considering. ‘Possibly. Anyway, he’s not sure what to do with the house. He’s made noises about selling it, but I think he’s a long way off making that decision.’

‘So you have time, then.’ Molly made a few swift clicks with the mouse, and then joined Robin on the sofa.

‘Time for what?’

‘To get him to change his mind, to convince him not to sell.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’ Robin asked, although she knew what Molly was going to say, and she had a couple of reasons of her own that had nothing to do with Tim or Malcolm.

‘To protect Goldcrest Road, of course. God, Robin, haven’t you been paying attention to anyone? To Mrs Harris’s mad tirade, to Tim’s blue-eyed, weaselly charisma.’

‘That’s not how you described him last night!’

‘Oh come on, he’s gorgeous, but we both know he has his sights fixed firmly on number four. If Will’s there dealing with his aunt’s stuff, all vulnerable and confused, Tim’s going to pick him off like a duck at a fairground. We need to launch a campaign, and you need to be at the heart of it, because you’ve already wormed your way in. He’s in your guesthouse, under your roof, drinking your tea.’

Robin pressed her fingers to her lips. ‘I offered to help him with Tabitha’s house,’ she murmured. ‘Why did I do that? I don’t have the time.’

‘There you go, then,’ Molly said triumphantly. ‘You’re already doing it. You’re in the perfect place to prove to Mr Nightingale just how great Campion Bay is, and that Tabitha’s house, once it’s been put right, is an ideal second home for him – or first home – whatever.’ She sipped her tea and beamed at Robin.

‘Why do you care so much?’

‘Because I’m here too, silly. I don’t want Tim turning this place into some swanky seafront apartment building, or a bloody Costa Coffee.’

‘Even if you end up with lots more rich clients on your doorstep?’