‘I’ll think about it,’ he appeased, knowing his daughter would pester him relentlessly until he gave in.
‘Samphire Bay,’ said Emma contemplatively. ‘I love it there, very atmospheric. But what’s this “big house” on the peninsula?’ she asked, quoting Bunty’s letter.
‘Where she lives. It’s an impressive place,’ Perry said, memories of the imposing home flooding his mind.
Emma took out her mobile and searched Samphire Bay. Colourful, stunning scenery flashed up before her. The huge, white art deco house soon appeared.
‘Wow! This is where Bunty lives,’ she murmured, still swiping through the images. Then, photographs of the Tea by the Sea event came on-screen. Emma clicked on the parish website they were sourced from. This time, the photographs had captions underneath, with the names of those depicted in the images. It wasn’t long before Bunty Deville’s name came up, dressed as a fortune teller. ‘Dad, look!’ Emma couldn’t help laughing at Bunty’s colourful get-up. She handed him her mobile.
‘My God,’ Perry stared at Bunty in her costume. It was her all right, he’d recognise that face anywhere, despite all the make-up. She still held an air of mischief about her with those twinkling eyes of hers. Bunty Deville, a real blast from the past.
Later that evening, when Emma had gone out with friends, Perry reached for the letter and read it again. Why had she decided to get in touch now, after all this time? And how had she known his address? It perplexed him more than worried him. She didn’t know about Val, that was clear, from the sentence, ‘I expect you’re happily married with a large family by now’ and asking if he was ‘in a position where you would like to reacquaint’. So she only had limited information about him. The whole thing had him thinking and reminiscing. He looked at the photograph of them laughing together on the beach, not a care in the world. Then, after pouring a large whiskey and downing it, picked up his pen and began to write.
Chapter 23
The pub was heaving. In typical Jack fashion, he had rounded up all their mates and Robin’s family for a big birthday bash at The Smugglers. Bunty was sat with Robin’s parents, looking in great form. The gin and tonics were going down great guns, being replenished by all and sundry.
Jasmine was due to arrive but had spent a couple of days at her mum and dad’s and would be a little late. She’d found it cathartic to meet up with them and Sam; they’d all shown anguish over the arrest of Tom’s killer and a heavy burden hung on all the family as they awaited the sentencing of Adrian Hall and Ian Dixon. Once that was over with, they would try to draw a line under the whole shocking nightmare, but they knew they would likely never fully heal from the deep wound of having a precious member of the family taken from them. What they could do was help Jasmine to move forward and by all accounts, that’s exactly what she appeared to be doing. Her parents were delighted by the progress she’d made on her cottage and Sam was most impressed to hear the garden studio was fully installed and in use.
‘You’ve certainly been very busy, love,’ remarked Jasmine’s mum. Then, couldn’t resist asking, ‘Have you had any more help from the next-door neighbour?’
Despite her mum’s casual tone, Jasmine could see straight through her. ‘Yes, actually I have,’ she replied with a wry smile at seeing her mum’s face light up.
‘Oh lovely! He sounds such a nice chap—’
‘Right, let’s put the kettle on,’ cut in Jasmine’s dad, preventing his wife from asking any further questions. He suspected his daughter could do without the third degree. Surprisingly though, Jasmine continued the conversation.
‘It’s Robin’s birthday today. We’re all meeting up in the pub tonight,’ she announced.
‘Who’s “we”?’ said Sam, just before her dad was about to ask the same question.
‘Me, Bunty, Jack, all their mates and family,’ Jasmine replied, happy to be growing her social circle and looking forward to the evening.
They exchanged glances. It sounded like Jasmine was really settling into Samphire Bay.
‘Good,’ her dad said with a nod.
Later in the afternoon, Jasmine set off home. Her parents and brother stood at the bottom of the drive to wave goodbye in high spirits.
‘I think the move to Samphire Bay is doing her good,’ Sam stated, watching his sister’s Mini drive off down the road.
‘So do I,’ replied both parents in unison.
As Robin downed another pint, he glanced round the crowded pub. Still no Jasmine yet, he noticed. He was expecting her to come later but remained eager to see her walk through the door. Since the dinner party at Bunty’s, they hadn’t really had a chance to speak. He and Jack had worked flat-out, finishing off the downstairs of their cottage and, now that they had installed a fireplace in the living room and the kitchen diner was complete, it was just a case of sanding down and varnishing the floorboards before decorating the upstairs. Then the cottage would be ready to put on the market. A sadness crept into Robin when considering it. Soon he would no longer have a reason to be next door to Jasmine. Jack’s suggestion of him ‘putting his cards on the table’ and revealing his feelings sprung to mind, but not tonight. His head was already starting to spin a little from all the beer constantly being supplied.
‘Come on, Rob, sup up!’ chorused Jack and a few others, as they put yet another pint in front of him. Robin’s eyes glazed over as he tried to focus, then a voice that was all too familiar to him came from behind, stopping him in his tracks.
‘Happy birthday, Robin.’
As he turned, a pair of red lips met his mouth. His eyes widened, but the lips pressed harder, forcing Robin back towards the bar. He stumbled and managed to pull away. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he stared into the face of the woman.
‘Ellie, what the hell are you doing here?’
Jasmine had seen it all. At the precise moment she had pushed the pub door open, she’d witnessed Robin and a dark-haired woman kissing. A jolt struck and her gut reaction was to walk straight out of the place. Nobody had even noticed her, so she left quietly without fuss. Trembling slightly, she sat on a bench outside and tried to steady herself. The last thing she’d expected to see was Robin kissing someone. Stupidly, she’d assumed he’d be glad to see her.
The woman with long, dark hair she recognised. It was the same person who had been spying on the cottages. Who was it? Then, she jumped at the rising voices from the side of the pub.
‘Get the hell out of here, Ellie!’
