As he closed his eyes against the bright sun, uneasiness returned, stirring deep in the pit of Nick’s stomach. He squeezed his eyes tighter, pushing away the niggle of self-doubt that he was a loser hiding in plain sight. Shifting on the hammock, Nick felt his teeth clench as a fizzing sensation took up residence in his chest. It reminded him of how the bubbles rose to the surface when he opened a can of beer, only a lot less pleasant. He opened his eyes, blinking against the sun, and the sense of panic he needed to get under control.
‘Stop being stupid,’ he told himself, while his inner voice reminded him that his father stopping his allowance was only the first step. The next would inevitably be the demand to move out.
Nick stretched his arms above his head, reached for his coffee, and took a sip. His parents were away for a month, so what was the point of worrying now? And anyway, he was sure he could win them over. He could do some jobs around the house that would get him back in the good books. Perhaps his mother would give him some cash for his troubles, even if no one else would want to employ someone like him? Nick smiled, sinking into the hammock, relieved he had a plan. And there was no rush, he’d wait for the next rainy day to make a start.
Chapter 3
Kitty sat on the bed staring at her meagre belongings in the open wardrobe. It wasn’t much to show for twenty-seven years on the planet. Not only that, the clothes told a story of their own. Demure blouses and boring tailored trousers made up most of her collection. Work clothes. Clothes for Catherine, not Kitty. There wasn’t a single item suitable for a night out, or for taking part in any hobbies. The only casual clothes she owned were a single pair of jeans, two T-shirts and two frumpy jumpers she’d borrowed from her mum.
The familiar burn of tears prickled her eyes, and Kitty pinched the skin on her hand to send them packing. If she let herself sink into self-pity now, there would be no going back. She longed to pick up the phone and call her mum. Too risky. And much as she hated herself for it, it wasn’t her mum she wanted. It was him. She missed the idea of him, the illusion. She missed the way he’d made her feel in those early days, when she thought she knew him, thought she’d won the jackpot. For a moment, she’d felt like the centre of someone else’s world, and it crushed her to know it had all been a lie.
Kitty’s hand hovered over her phone. Before she could type in a number, a memory resurfaced. She was crouched beside the front door, heart thumping, caught in an escape attempt, the hurled torrent of words sharper than any knife they owned. She tossed her phone on the bed, grabbed a notebook from the bedside table, and flicked through. It was a depressing read, but unless she confronted her past, she would slip back there. And if Kitty was certain of anything, it was that Saffron Bay was her one shot at an escape. Return to her old world and she’d never leave again.
The doorbell rang, and Kitty jumped. Without making a sound, she replaced the notebook on the cabinet and crossed the room. At the window, she hid behind a curtain and peered out. Her tense shoulders sagged. Two women stood on her doorstep, both with white hair, although one was white through age and the other white-blonde and youthful.
Kitty took her time walking downstairs, hoping her visitors would have given up by the time she reached the door. When she arrived at the front door, Kitty could see two blurred shapes behind the frosted glass panels. She plastered a smile on her face, checked in the hallway mirror it looked convincing, and opened the door.
‘Hello,’ the women said in unison, then laughed.
A wicker basket hung from the crook of the older woman’s arm, and the younger held a bunch of flowers.
‘Hello.’ The fake smile caused Kitty’s cheeks to ache.
‘I’m Sylvie, Solly’s fiancée,’ said the older woman, ‘and this is Alice, my grandson’s girlfriend. We thought we’d pop round and welcome you to the village. I’ve baked a few things to keep you going.’
Sylvie handed over the wicker basket, and Kitty’s stomach rumbled at the smell of fresh bread and cakes. ‘This is very kind of you, thank you,’ she said. Her reluctance to invite the womenin was further irritated by the fact they didn’t seem in a rush to leave, and the younger, Alice, still hadn’t handed over the flowers.
‘Have you got time for a cuppa?’ asked Alice, ‘or are you in the middle of something?’
Kitty wanted to take the way out being offered. However, Sylvie was as good as her landlady, and she needed to get off on the right foot. ‘I’ve got time,’ she said, opening the door wider.
‘Brilliant,’ said Alice. ‘These flowers are for you, by the way. Shall I help you find a vase?’
Kitty smiled in reply and led them through to the kitchen, where she flicked on the kettle. ‘It was very kind of Mr Tyler to get in a few basics for me,’ she said, grabbing a pint of milk from the fridge.
‘Goodness, don’t let him hear you calling him Mr Tyler,’ said Sylvie with a wicked grin. ‘He’ll think you don’t like him.’
‘How are you settling in?’ asked Alice. ‘Solly said you’ve moved down from London. It must be quite a culture shock. I found it hard enough moving here from Plymouth, and that’s just around the coast.’
‘It’s certainly different.’ Kitty hugged her arms around herself. ‘I went for a walk yesterday evening, and it seems such a pretty place.’
‘You’d never visited before?’ asked Sylvie, her eyebrows raised.
‘I’ve never been to Cornwall before, let alone Saffron Bay.’
‘Goodness. What made you move down here then?’
Kitty shrugged. ‘I fancied a change.’ Her heart thudded with the effort of keeping her voice neutral. She had to keep the tremble out of her voice or it could lead to awkward questions. Kitty turned her back on her visitors, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Twice in as many days, she was having to explain herself and roll out the party line. She hoped she wouldn’t have any more visitors. Spouting a stream of half-truths was exhausting.
‘I’m going for a drink with a few friends later,’ said Alice, ‘and wondered if you’d like to join us?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure. I have quite a bit of planning to do.’ She couldn’t say yes, a crowded pub was the last place she wanted to be, yet somewhere deep inside came a memory of fun nights out in Dublin, drinking until dawn. Had she really ever been that woman?
‘Mrs Arnold is a hard taskmaster, but surely she’s not working you to the bone before you’ve officially started at the school?’ said Sylvie.
‘No, not at all.’ Kitty paled at the thought of dropping her new boss in it on her second day in the village. ‘I like to be well prepared, that’s all.’
‘It won’t be a late one. Just a quiet drink with a few friends.’ Alice’s smile was warm and inviting. ‘Come on, my friends don’t bite, I promise.’
