‘I just need to wise up a bit.’ Sabrina pushed the towel back to balance it. ‘And I’m sorry. I doubt you realised there would be such drama on day one.’
‘Living with a woman in such close proximity? I’m surprised it’s taken so long, to be honest.’
They both laughed.
‘Did you finish early today, then?’
‘I know I just started, but I negotiated with Billy to have Mondays off. I like to graft but seven days a week is just a bit too much for anyone. Got to have one day to recharge the batteries and drink some Guinness.’
‘All work and no play makes Conor a dull boy.’
‘Exactly. Now, I’ve made a spaghetti bolognaise if you’d like some? Garlic bread? Bit of salad?’
Sitting at the small dining table, Sabrina pushed her plate away and put her hand to her stomach. ‘That, Conor Brady was the best meal I’ve had since I’ve been down here.’
‘Well, you can get used to that, then, because I love to cook. And it looks like you could do with some looking after.’
Tears pricked Sabrina’s eyes.
‘Jesus, girl. I’m being nice. Don’t you be gurnin’ on me again.’
‘Thank you so much.’ Her voice was wobbly. She went to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water and sat back at the table, more composed now. ‘So, I’ve told you a bit of my story, Conor Brady– how about yours?’
He flopped down on the sofa, his long legs hanging over the side. ‘We’d need all night for that, and I’ve got to be up at seven.’
Sabrina was wise enough to ask no further– not tonight, anyway. Instead, said quietly, ‘Everyone has a story, Conor. Good, bad, ugly. Some people just have a plot line that stays level, and others are set off on a roller coaster of twists and turns.’
‘So, Dickens, are you on the carousel or the Incredicoaster?’
Sabrina stood up. ‘The rides have been fun, but I’m kind of feeling I’d like to get off now, please.’
Conor sighed. ‘Me too. There’s something about this place that levels me out, you know? In a good way.’
Sabrina nodded. ‘I get that, I really do. Well, it’s been great to meet you properly, Conor Brady, and thanks again for dinner and for lifting me up.’
‘Strong arms, me.’ He tensed his right bicep through his hoody. ‘And are you sure we’ve not met before? I do really recognise you from somewhere.’
Sabrina screwed up her face in denial. ‘Like I said, I would have remembered you.’
Despite the stiff breeze that was whistling around the estuary, Sabrina lay back on her bed with the window wide open, taking in the fresh, salty air. She checked her phone for messages. Nothing. Since seeing her at the cottage, Dominic had gone silent and she didn’t like it. Yes, he had been angry when he had realised she’d slept with someone else, but she was sure his face had also shown that he cared. She picked up her phone to message him. Then, she realised she was too tired and emotional to deal with anything now– and that included the possibility of him NOT answering her message. Sighing, she threw the handset back on to the duvet.
And why would Lowen message? He was busy at home with his darling Giselle, getting ready for their holiday. It all made sense now– no wonder he had insisted they had sex on such neutral, safe ground, had never invited her back to his place. She looked back through their message chain. ‘Herparents!’ How could she have let that go without picking up on it? And as for taking her money, she had the key to the market unit now, so surely everything would be alright. It was common knowledge that Brian was away until the end of December. And maybe Lowen had just given Giselle the three hundred pounds as that was his commission from the market deal. She had no proof that he’d duped her or the council. As Dee would say, she was making things up in her head again.
She did, however, hope that nothing was going to jeopardise her new venture as she was really looking forward to the freedom of it all.
She checked for messages one last time, then lay her head back on her pillow to hatch a plan for the next day. She decided she would head to the market unit and act as if everything was alright. Some of the orders she had put in were arriving, so she could busy herself by unpacking those. And if somebody from the council came to call her out then she would call out Lowen for the rat– love or otherwise– that he was.
She started to draft a message to him but then realised that every time she went to put something, she had no idea what to say. Yes, they’d had a connection, and she did care about him, but not enough for her to demand that they be together. She had no urge to blow his relationship apart– what would be the point of that? She was more hurt than angry. Plus, annoyed that she had yet again fallen foul of another cheater. And as much as it hurt, she had to deal with this practically. Another lesson. But what more could she have done to protect herself? She had asked about this life, and he had lied to her. He had told her that that he was single, and she had believed him. Plus, thinking about it, she had also lied to him, hadn’t she? And an even bigger one at that. At least he hadn’t lied about who he was. She had to look at it as a godsend that she had found out so quickly and just make sure she was on her guard for any other potential suitors who decided to come her way. She would wait and tackle him face-to-face. The satisfaction of seeing him squirm when he knew she’d found out would be the closure she needed.
It made her cringe inside that she wasn’t telling the truth to all the lovely people in the market, too. Kara and Star and Frank and now the lovely Conor, who in just the fleeting time she had known him, came across as the kind of person who’d not only have your back, but he’d make you a new one out of clay as a reserve if you needed it.
Her thoughts then turned back to Dominic, and the burst of longing she felt was followed swiftly by frustration at herself for wanting him. Why was it that when you’d been hurt, you quite often craved for the touch of the person who hurt you? It didn’t make sense. But her whole life at the moment didn’t make sense. As far as she was aware, Dominic Best had treated her with respect and love, right up until he hadn’t. Well, that was what she assumed, and maybe it was much better not knowing anything else. She sighed and looked out to the twinkling lights on the harbourside. Dominic would love it here. The peace of it all. She reached again for her phone to message him but still something within stopped her. Instead, she stretched down to the floor to reach for her handbag and found the crumpled letter from her mother tucked inside. ‘“If a man shows you he’s a loser, believe it,”’ she recited aloud. A seagull flew down outside the window, let out a massive squawk then set off again. Sabrina laughed. ‘You’ve got it, mate!’
And with the mantra of “no more losers” flying around her head, Sabrina Swift fell into a fretful slumber.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Despite such a disturbed sleep, Sabrina woke at six-thirty a.m. Not wanting to wake Conor, she tiptoed to the kitchen and made tea and toast. It wasn’t quite being warm enough to sit outside, so she sat down on the window seat to take in the view whilst having a leisurely breakfast.
