‘Yes.’
‘Where exactly by the sea?’ Sue asked in exasperation.
Jasmine shrugged. ‘Don’t know yet. I’ll have a look, see what’s out there.’
‘Do you need hel—’
‘No,’ Jasmine interrupted with force, then paused. ‘Thanks, Mum, but I’m fine, really.’ Her voice softened.
Sue gave a quivering sigh in acceptance. What else could she do? Jasmine was her own woman after all. She had to do things her way, in her time. All she and Mike could do was be there for their daughter; and they would be, every step of the whole damn way.
Chapter 4
Robin drove up the path to the tip of the peninsula, knowing full well he didn’t have too long to talk to Bunty. The old girl had granted him an audience, but had insisted it be at three thirty p.m., an hour before the tide was due to cut the peninsula off. She obviously was not going to let Robin stay any longer. He allowed Bunty this condition, let her think she was in control, but he’d soon butter her up.
Still puzzled by her behaviour at not contacting him first, he was keen to get his offer in; even keener to get it accepted. Not for the first time, Robin’s imagination was running riot with the possibilities that buying the cottages could bring. He was picturing the finished project and he liked what he saw – so much so, he had begun to think of it ashishome. As with other renovations he’d completed, Robin grew attached to the place and its potential, but this time it was different. This time the location had a personal connection.
He parked his Range Rover outside the impressive art deco house and made his way up the steep steps to the front door. Ringing the bell, he could soon see the silhouette approach of a figure wearing a caftan dress and bandana through the opaque glass of the double front doors. Bunty opened them with a sly smirk.
‘Ah, Robin, do come in.’ She stepped aside to let him pass. ‘I’m just in the studio.’
The studio was south facing, which meant the sun blasted through the large bow window most of the day. Bunty’s father had been a keen artist and paintings surrounded the walls. Scenes of seaside landscapes and family portraits hung all around, including a watercolour of Bunty as a little girl building sandcastles, golden haired and skin kissed by the sun, wearing a polka dot swimming costume, face concentrating on the task at hand. It was hard to believe this cute toddler had once been Bunty.
Turning to face her, Robin took the initiative. They both knew why he was there.
‘Bunty, I want to buy your cottages.’
‘Yes, I know you do,’ she replied tartly.
‘Then can we talk money? Decide on a price?’ he attempted.
‘Yes.’
Robin frowned. Was it really going to be this easy? But then, he hadn’t yet given her a figure.
‘I’ll pay the asking price,’ he ventured.
‘Which I accept.’
‘Really?’ he asked, surprised. It reallywasgoing to be this easy…
‘For one of them,’ finished Bunty.
‘Pardon?’ Robin frowned.
Bunty looked at him steadily. ‘I’ll sell youoneof the cottages.’
Robin was starting to get a headache. ‘But I want both of them.’
‘Well you can’t have both of them,’ Bunty said.
‘But… why not?’
‘Because I don’t want to sell you them both.’ She folded her arms defiantly.
‘Why not?’ he repeated impatiently, then regretted his tone immediately at seeing Bunty’s raised eyebrow. ‘I mean – I don’t understand.’
‘Well, it’s quite simple, darling,’ she explained slowly, her voice saccharine sweet. ‘You can buy one of the cottages, but not both.’
