A lone beam of golden sunlight made its jittery mark across the wooden floor as it seeped through the open crack of the balcony door. The comforting sounds of mewing seagulls and creaking yacht masts in the estuary harbour rose from below yet, did nothing to ease the gnawing feeling in her stomach.
The whole Lowen debacle didn’t sit right with her. The thought of Dominic and the French stick, probably now sleeping back in the Bloomsbury flat bed together after her own misadventure, didn’t sit right with her. And now her plan to help her forget and try to enjoy a few months for herself out of the spotlight, may now also be in jeopardy. She had one day before he ran away on holiday to confront the wayward marketing inspector and find out exactly what was going on.
‘Shit!’ Conor clattered through from the bathroom. ‘I’m going to be late.’ He grabbed a piece of toast off Sabrina’s plate. ‘You don’t mind, do ya? I’m fecking starving.’ Before Sabrina had time to answer, he was careering down the flat stairs two at a time, shouting, ‘See you later, Dickens. Have a good day.’
She laughed to herself. It was going to be anything but dull living here. Finishing off her tea, she messaged Lowen with a simple, but provocative,Buy one, get ME free at the unit today. His love language towards her was plainly sex and money, but two could play at that game! And at least seeing him face to face, she could find out what was going on directly rather than let him get away with fobbing her off with some easily misconstrued message. The positive card she held was that he was oblivious to her knowing anything, so hopefully it wouldn’t take long for him to take the bait.
She stood up and checked the time. Eight-fifteen, a quick shower and off to the market at nine. She had made sure to check that the WIFI was strong at Brian’s place, so she could start setting everything up from there. A feeling of excitement ran through her as she got up to leave. Picking her keys up from the shelf above the fireplace, she took in the canvas above it, full of words. She went up close and then her jaw dropped at the sight of the author’s name at the bottom: RUMI. It was as if he was following her around. She read.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond
RUMI
She touched the yellow topaz of her ring and heard Star’s words going through her head: “It helps you bond with the people who are good for you and keeps you away from those who are a harm to you.”
Without doubt, this whole place had a certain magical air about it. Rumi had been right in the fact that the quieter you became, the more you were able to hear. By making her life smaller, her inner thinking had become bigger. And like her thoughts, Sabrina Swift would be grateful for whatever and whoever came to her and had to trust that she would act accordingly when it or they did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Who doesn’t love a big, juicy, succulent pear. Come on, ladies, you don’t get many of these for the kilo.’ Charlie Dillon blew Sabrina a kiss as she walked passed him on her way to Monique’s, causing her to humour him with a reluctant smile.
Star, who was busily cleaning the front window to her shop, waved her over. ‘Hey, Jilly. How you doing?’
‘Good, thanks. Going to the unit today. Getting some stock ordered. I need to get a move on.’
