‘You reckon?’
‘I know.’
‘I love you, Dee.’
‘I love you, too, mate.’
‘It will be OK, won’t it?’
‘Your life, or not having a full-length mirror?’
‘I hate you.’ Sabrina shook her arm to relieve the numbness.
‘Make your mind up.’ Dee chuckled. ‘And if you’re still alive in the morning, call me.’
Chapter Two
Sabrina awoke with a start to a light tapping at the cottage door. She had been so exhausted from the drive and her own dramatics that, to her amazement, she had dropped straight off to sleep. In fact, she had slept so soundly that she felt like she had to prise open each eye with a finger and even when she had managed that, it took her a good minute to jiggle her brain to fathom exactly where she was and where the noise was coming from. Sitting up and sneaking a peek between the duck-egg-blue shutter slats, she could see a willowy blonde woman patiently waiting for her to answer, a wicker trug basket in hand.
A swearing Sabrina put on her best fake smile, waved, and hurriedly pulled on the jeans and jumper she had worn for the six-hour drive down from London.
‘Hey.’ Sabrina opened the door, sounding as lacklustre as she felt. However, with her hair dragged into a messy bun and huge Gucci sunglasses hiding half of her face, she could certainly pass as a woman who should have just consummated her honeymoon.
‘Hey, I’m Belle. Welcome to Kevrinek Cottage.’ The blonde smiled warmly. Her shoulder-length hair was naturally light, Sabrina noticed. Plaited neatly each side. Her lips rosebud and untouched. Her complexion pale. Her blue eyes as soulful as her demeanour. Her cut-off jeans and plain t-shirt effortlessly worn. She was one of those women, Sabrina thought, who really didn’t realise just how beautiful she was and whose skin was so perfect that she was very difficult to age. ‘And huge Congratulations!’ Belle enthused to an awkward smile from the new house guest.
Sabrina found the young woman’s Cornish accent endearing. It was also refreshing to be chatting to somebody who clearly didn’t know her business, despite it having being splashed all over the newspapers and socials for the past week and the main reason that she had wanted to run away. To escape the embarrassment. To recentre herself from the madness that had ensued and that no doubt was continuing to do so.
‘You rented this place off us– well off Isaac, really. My partner. The cottage is on his land, you see. I didn’t want to knock too early since it is your honeymoon and everything, but we both wanted to see you have got everything you need. He rarely has guests staying here, so there must have been a special reason you made the grade.’ Belle’s smile lit up her face. ‘I’m not really used to this hospitality business, to be honest.’
Feeling like she didn’t have the energy or inclination to ask why they were the chosen ones or explain that she had just been jilted at the altar for a French Stick, a quiet ‘Oh,’ was all Sabrina could manage.
Then, as if on spectacular cue to save her embarrassment, a brown-and-white sheepdog came running up to the front door and barked at them both.
‘Aw, there you are.’ Belle rubbed her hands through the friendly hound’s ears.
‘Meet Beethoven, our beloved deaf-as-a-post sheepdog.’
Sabrina perked up. ‘A deaf sheepdog? that’s funny.’
‘Yes, Isaac informs me that they communicate via their own form of BCL.’
Sabrina frowned, puzzled. ‘I thought it was British SIGN language.’
The pretty blonde let out an infectious giggle. ‘It is. But they use British CANINE Language instead.’ She tittered again. ‘They sure broke the mould with my fiancé.’
Sabrina thought for a fleeting moment that maybe nowwouldbe the ideal time to confess that there was no mould breaking, just heart breaking where her own ex-fiancé was concerned, but then Belle held out the basket for her to take, and the moment passed. Instead, she did her best to appear interested in the contents.
‘This is great.’
‘Fresh milk in there.’ The soft Cornish accent conveyed. Plus, there’s artisan bread, eggs, butter and local honey. There’s also coffee and tea in the cupboard above the sink, so help yourself.’
‘Sounds amazing, thank you.’
Belle rubbed her nose. ‘Hmm. What else did Isaac remind me to say. Oh, yes. If you do want to venture out, Penrigan is only a couple of miles back down the main drive and over the cliffs. It’s signposted and really is a stunning walk if you fancy some fresh air.’ She noticed Sabrina’s grey Audi convertible parked to the side of the cottage. ‘Or you can drive it, of course, in ten minutes. There’s a Co-op for supplies and– err– and a pier and beach there, it’s genuinely nice. Ooh, and of course you have the estuary town of Hartmouth around a twenty-minute drive from here, forty minutes on the bus, where you will find Ferry Lane Market. It’s so quaint and quirky there– definitely worth a visit.’
‘Perfect.’ Sabrina was now itching to get back inside and hide away from civilisation again.
‘We always keep the gate up to the estate locked. We have access to open it 24/7, though, so do come and go as you please. You just have to press the buzzer to get in, just like you did last night.’
