Jack had left the new window propped up against the side of the cottage and was gone by the time Robin arrived. He couldn’t help but be a tad relieved, feeling reluctant to introduce Jack to Jasmine just yet. He knew how playful his mate could be at times, especially around attractive ladies, and didn’t want Jasmine to feel uncomfortable in any way.
He picked up the glass and walked to the back of the cottage. On doing so, he saw another face peering over the garden hedge.
‘Hi, there!’ called the man he assumed was Jasmine’s brother.
‘Hi,’ replied Robin. He leant the window against the back door and went over to him. ‘Robin,’ he supplied and held out his hand.
‘Sam, Jasmine’s brother.’ The men shook hands.
‘Heard you’re doing this all yourselves. I’ve got a skip being delivered this morning, feel free to use it,’ Robin offered.
‘Thanks, appreciate it, that’ll be a big help. We’ve just started ripping out the kitchen units.’ He pointed to a pile of damaged wooden doors and an old Formica worktop in the garden.
Robin smiled. ‘I’ll be doing the same before so long.’
‘You from Samphire Bay?’ asked Sam.
‘Yeah, moved here when I was seventeen.’
‘It’s a lovely spot,’ Sam remarked, gazing out towards the bay.
‘The best,’ agreed Robin.
‘Will you be living here, or selling once you’ve finished renovating the cottage?’
Robin paused for a moment, surprised at Sam’s directness. Was he sizing him up? Sussing out who could be living next door to his sister? Originally, he had wanted to buy both cottages and renovate them into one spectacular house. Then, hewouldhave been tempted to keep such a stunning property as his own home. As that hadn’t panned out, he was still considering his options.
‘I may live here, haven’t decided yet,’ he answered, looking Sam in the eye. He refused to feel intimidated in any way, albeit understanding Sam’s brotherly concern. He also didn’t feel the need to explain himself, either.
‘I see.’ Sam nodded. ‘Well, thanks for letting us use your skip. Best get back to work.’
‘No worries,’ replied Robin, and he turned back to the cottage, ready for a full day’s work.
Bunty poured herself another generous glug of gin, added tonic, a slice of cucumber and lots of ice, then turned to gaze out of the huge bow window in the drawing room. This was her favourite spot, overlooking the panoramic view of the bay.
Many a time she’d stare out to sea, watching what it had to offer that day – whether it be a raging storm with metal grey clouds hovering over its dark waters, flashes of lightening illuminating the whipped-up waves, or a serene sunset peacefully settling down, reflecting deep orange and soft pink hues over its gentle ripples. No two days were ever the same.
Today, the sea was calm. What was the saying?Still waters run deep, echoed a distant voice in her head, causing her to take a big gulp of gin. Her eyelids closed, allowing hazy memories to morph into sharper focus, refusing to be forgotten…
Bunty had watched the little red fishing boat chug out on a limpid sea. All was quiet apart from the distant echo of seagulls calling in the distance. She squinted, shielding her eyes from the sun and saw the figure on the deck wave – no, he was saluting her. She froze for a moment, suspecting the gesture was a final one, the last goodbye, a dismissal. With her chest pounding, Bunty raised her hand to wave frantically at him.Come back!she wanted to scream, but knew it was pointless. He’d never hear her and, besides, would it make a difference if he had? She paused, then tried again, this time with both hands, crossing each other urgently in the air. But no, he’d turned his back, refusing to look at her any longer. Hot tears poured down Bunty’s face as she watched the stern of the boat bob gently through the waves, slowly distancing the space between them. She stared numbly, rooted to the spot, her heart breaking. He’d be back she told herself, hehadto come back.
Chapter 8
Jasmine took off her face mask once all the dust had finally settled. Turning to her brother, who was covered in as much debris as she was, a contented sigh escaped her.
‘Well, that’s the kitchen and the bathroom gutted now,’ she said with satisfaction.
‘Yeah, pretty much a blank canvas to make your own mark now, sis,’ Sam grinned. It was good to see his sister so full of optimism. Jasmine had been right; buying this house had definitely given her motivation, a reason to get up in the morning besides just pouring her energies into work. Over the last few days, he’d noticed the dark shadows surrounding her eyes gradually disappear and the gaunt harshness of her cheekbones become less stark as her face began to fill out again. Jasmine was slowly but surely returning to her usual self. Deep down, Sam was pleased to be helping her, but also glad his sister was keen to do the renovation at such speed. He did have a job to hold down, after all, and there was only so much annual leave he could take. Now that they had cleared the kitchen and bathroom, leaving them ready for fresh fittings, he’d soon be heading home, that had been the deal.
Jasmine was more than happy for her brother’s assistance, but she was so looking forward to moving into the cottage alone. Camping out in a tent was fun, at first, but now she craved the comfort of a warm bath after a long day’s hard slog. And hard slog it was, pulling out the old bath, toilet and sink, manoeuvring them down the stairs, through the gardens to next door’s skip. The kitchen units had been easier to dismantle, and thankfully on ground level, but still tiring work.
Whilst Jasmine had enjoyed choosing the simple but stylish shaker kitchen, she knew it would need a professional to put it all together. Thoughts of Tom installing their kitchenette inMoonshinebriefly haunted her, but she refused to dwell on them. Jasmine would need to employ a plumber for the bathroom too. Plus, she didn’t like the idea of her and Sam bundling the new white porcelain sink and toilet up the stairs. It was one thing ripping out old fittings, but she wanted the professionals to handle the expensive equipment she’d recently purchased.
Once the kitchen and bathroom had been fitted, she did fancy having a go at the tiling. She was thinking of laying tiles halfway up the walls, then plastering the rest. Already deciding to make the most of the space, she hadn’t gone for any upper wall units, just floor ones, and wanted to hang thick oak shelves with cast iron brackets. For Jasmine, it was all about character, giving the place definition, a story. She was keen to retain the history of the cottage.
Jasmine had since discovered from chatting to the locals that the cottages had been built as homes for fishermen. Hardly surprising given their location. She tried to picture how her house would have looked, all those years ago, as a humble dwelling for them. She laughed to herself, not imagining such fishermen bothering with the shades of kitchen worktops, styles of door handles, or deciding between brass or brushed copper taps. Then, she paused. Laugh, she’d actuallylaughed, once more. It still sounded strange to hear it. Incredulous even, never thinking she would hear that sound again.
It had been almost a week since Jasmine and Sam had started work on the cottage. Luckily, the weather had held out, but the forecast told them a storm was brewing. Neither of them fancied camping outside in the heavy rain, so time was of the essence. The kitchen and the bathroom had to be fitted, or at least the plumbing did, and fast.
