My shower was long and hot, the pressure set to full, almost enough to hurt my skin. This day already felt different than yesterday and the day before that. I pulled on denim shorts and a strappy vest and headed for the guesthouse, knowing that breakfast would be over for the guests and would be being prepared for the workers.
Nan was shouting at someone over the phone, something to do with a delivery that wasn’t correct, and the usual wait staff were busying about the kitchen. She’d always cooked the breakfast. Even though she should’ve retired by now, and she didn’t need to keep working for financial reasons, her morning ritual was firmly stuck, all but Sundays and Mondays, when one of her friends came in and did a traditional Welsh breakfast so the guests had a change.
“What’s left over?” I examined the plates that were out, knowing damn well what the answer would be.
I felt the whip of a tea towel across my back.Thatwas the answer.
“Sausages, bacon, hash browns, black pudding. Help yourself and then help clear the tables.” Nan put the phone down, the conversation with the supplier over now he had a flea tickling right down his ear canal.
“Will do. Then I’m meeting Catrin.” There was no point trying to wheedle out of helping. The three of us, and any friends we had stay, were considered extra labour over the summer. It was never that Nan tried to take advantage, more that any extra help over the busy summer months was appreciated and we were always repaid in food or a day trip out. And the huge beach barbecues that pulled in locals and visitors alike that Nan organised.
“Good. You should spend more time with that girl.”
Nan had always liked Catrin. Cat had spent enough time at the guesthouse when we were growing up and given that she’d never moved away, I knew the space I’d left empty by moving had been filled with Catrin to a degree. I wasn’t jealous; there was no reason to be so. Catrin was part of home.
I ate, feeling my hunger start to make an appearance after months of having no appetite. The sea air and the safety would have an immediate impact, which was what both my therapist and Nan had said, but it hadn’t been the right time until now to come back.
Being away from my class after what had happened meant that I’d failed in some way to have a good enough handle on myself to be able to cope. Until last week when the dam that was holding everything in had finally burst and I’d ran home, leaving my class with the teaching assistant and broken down in my therapist’s office.
The routine of setting up dining tables for the following day was familiar and comforting. This hadn’t changed. It was all still the same. The chunky pottery made by hand on the island, the white linen table cloths and napkins, the flowers cut from the gardens that surrounded three sides of the Victorian mansion. This was what I knew and it was what I needed.
I left before my sister could accost me into doing something for her, even babysitting my nephew, and headed towards Catrin’s house. The tide was in, covering the rocks I might have climbed over. In a couple of hours, there would be seaweed and sand left carpeting them, along with a scattering of shells that kids would collect.
The fishermen were still returning from their morning hunt. It had been too long since I’d spoken to lots of them, many of whom I’d known since I had moved to the island when I was a small child. I’d been to school with their kids and grandkids and they were as much the scenery as the lighthouse or the uninhibited island half a mile from the shore.
Seabirds swooped and echoed, looking for an easy breakfast. Then I noticed Gabe, shirtless and muscled as he lifted out containers of fish onto the dock.
He intrigued me. I’d been judged by him yesterday; I had seen the look in his eyes when he found out who I was and he’d not understood why I couldn’t attend Marcy’s funeral. But there was more to him than someone to be angry at, although his rudeness had given me enough justification for that.
“Morning, Anya!” The call was from Shep, also known as Neil Shepherd who’d been a couple of years above me at school. We’d been out on a couple of dates and we’d hit third base before realising that we had less chemistry than a closed down pharmacy. Shep was a fisherman by family and by choice.
“How’s it going?’ I asked, stepping closer to where he and Gabe were sorting their catch. My stomach tipped a little at Gabe’s nearness and it was a feeling I hadn’t been sure would return. I’d not found anyone attractive in the months since the murders, that part of my psyche completely shut down.
Shep nodded. “Business is good. The restaurant scene is booming on the island so we’re in demand.” He gave me a stunning smile and I wished that we’d been able to give things a go. But it wasn’t there and he wasn’t the man making my insides feel like they’d been blended.
“You’re helping out?” I turned my stare to Gabe, not wanting him to weasel out of being there.
He nodded, retying his hair as some of it had come loose. “Casual basis. As and when someone wants a break or there’s more demand than normal.”
It was civil. A lot different from yesterday. And this time I could really see his pale blue eyes and sculpted face. He was gorgeous in a way that made me want to stare. I forced my eyes down away from his face and then kicked myself at the mistake I’d made because his chest and arms were things cover models for romance books were made of.
Forcing my eyes back up was difficult, mainly because I didn’t want to see the knowing look he’d have, catching me viewing him. He’d folded his arms and I was pretty sure I’d heard him laugh. When I finally found the confidence to meet his eyes they were dancing with amusement, his smile wide.
“Sorry.” There was no way that a man would’ve gotten away with doing that to a woman. Not without a few swear words and temporary infertility.
The smile grew wider. “Do I need to put my top on before we have a conversation?”
I cringed. “I can manage. Please take it as a compliment.”And understand I haven’t seen a man’s body that’s taken me out of my head for five months.
“I wasn’t taking it as an insult. You want some fish?” He gestured to the buckets of fish next to us.
As a teenager I’d hated coming down here. The smell used to make me screw up my nose and whine like a princess. Now I almost missed it.
His question about the fish baffled me and I frowned. Then I saw how he was gripping onto his forearms. He was nervous. Despite the masses of hair and his bohemian look, he wasn’t the Mister Confident I’d thought he would be. Which also made him all the more attractive because he was gorgeous enough to be all kinds of arrogant.
“I’m pretty sure some of that is destined for the guesthouse.”
Let’s stand here and talk about fish…
