‘And why they left such treasured memories,’ Jack said. ‘Maybe one died and the other couldn’t bear such painful reminders?’
Immediately Robin thought of Jasmine and he gulped. He put the photographs back in the envelope.
‘What should we do with it?’ He tapped the trunk with his foot.
Jack scratched his head. ‘It doesn’t seem right to get rid of it…’
‘We could polish it up, it’d make a nice piece. The anchor would be a good feature in the garden, part of the cottage’s history,’ Robin suggested.
‘Yeah, but what about the photos?’ asked Jack.
Robin shrugged. ‘Just keep them I guess. I’ll take them home for now.’
Between them they carried the anchor down and propped it up against the back of the house for the time being. Robin decided he’d lightly sand the trunk down and varnish it, in which case it was as good there in the attic than anywhere else. He even considered keeping it, thinking the piece would look good at the bottom of his bed, plus it would make for handy storage space.
On his way home late afternoon, he called at the shop for something to eat that evening. Trish was busy serving other customers, so hadn’t seen him come in. Robin stared into the freezer cabinets with little relish. He knew he really ought to make himself something fresh, packed with vitamins and goodness, but just didn’t have the energy. It was times like this that he missed having someone to come home to. It would be lovely to return to his flat for once and have that special person to greet him with a welcoming smile and a delicious cooked dinner to share, or vice versa. Instead he was faced with a line of frozen meals to choose from, which he’d microwave, alone. Great. Just what he needed after a hard day’s work.
An image of Jasmine suddenly flashed into his head. He wondered what she was eating tonight, alone too. Maybe he ought to return the favour and cook her a meal? Why not? Deciding he’d call on her the next day and do just that gave him a touch more zest.
Opting for the chicken curry and rice, he made his way to the till, where Trish – who by now had spotted him – was keenly waiting.
She smiled as he approached. ‘Robin dear, how are you?’
‘Good thanks, Trish, and you?’
‘Oh you know, can’t complain,’ she replied whilst scanning his ready meal. ‘How’s the work coming along next door?’ she enquired as casually as she could. Robin looked up from digging in his back pocket for money.
‘Jasmine’s? Fine, the kitchen and bathroom are in.’ He paid, waiting for his change, which Trish was in no hurry to give.
‘How are you two getting along?’ she brazenly asked.
Oh, I get it, thought Robin, knowing where this was going and, more to the point, where it was coming from.
‘Who wants to know?’ he replied with an arched eyebrow.
‘Just asking, that’s all,’ said Trish innocently. Robin wasn’t convinced. He knew full well Bunty was behind Trish’s questioning. Honestly, that woman! Then, deciding to play along for devilment, he leant forward.
‘Can you keep a secret?’ he asked in a hushed voice.
‘Of course!’ trilled Trish.
‘She cooked me dinner the other night,’ he whispered, trying to keep a straight face.
Trish’s eyes went wide. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, I won’t tell you what was for afters, if you get my meaning.’ He winked, causing Trish to gasp. Robin couldn’t help but openly laugh.
‘Robin Spencer, you’re teasing me, aren’t you?’ she huffed, folding her arms.
‘Yes, I am.’ He chuckled, took his ready meal and left the shop.
‘Well, really,’ said an indignant Trish.
Chapter 12
‘Oh darling, it’s fabulous!’ cried Jasmine’s mum as she entered the kitchen.
‘I did the tiling,’ Jasmine said proudly.
