His wince is rueful. ‘All I’ve done since is work. When you don’t sleep, you can fit three working days into one. It felt like I owed it to Faye to make the most of what she’d passed on to me. When you’re that driven, it doesn’t take too much good luck to make a success. It helped that I have an aptitude for speculation. But I’ve already told you that a lot of times.’ He pauses to give a self-deprecating half-smile. ‘Diesel and I took a winter let on a holiday flat in Seaspray Cottage, and it went from there. For a few years, we moved further south, but St Aidan’s always felt like home. At night when we’re walking along the beach it’s as if we’re on the edge of the world. Once the beach empties, there’s this amazing sense of seclusion and space. Somehow the emptiness brings me a comfort and a peace that I haven’t found anywhere else. However spectacular the other developments have been that I’ve been involved with, the balcony flat here was what we’d always set our hearts on. And getting the whole building bit by bit was my way of safeguarding the place.’
Now I understand why he was defensive about the intrusion, I couldn’t feel any more awful. ‘Then I came along and wrecked your peace. I’m so sorry, and so ashamed, I promise I’ll make much more effort to keep the noise down in future.’
That does make him smile. ‘It’s fine. In a way, it’s been good to be shaken up. Locking myself away, I’d got very set in my ways.’
There’s one more question. ‘What I don’t understand is how you’re always manage to look so –’ I’m looking for polite way to describe this ‘– positive?’ If disbelieving frowns are my trademark, Charlie has to own looking pleased with himself, even without smiling.
He blows out his cheeks. ‘In my business no one wants to spend time with a loser. It was hell at first, but I made myself go out there and act like a winner. If you fake it for long enough, eventually you do it without thinking. You’re dying inside, but so long as the shell you build is shiny enough and tough enough, no one would ever guess.’
I finally let my spoon drop back into the bowl. ‘You had me fooled. I’m so sorry I got everything so wrong. I promise I’ll learn from this.’ I feel really small and very silly. Mortified doesn’t begin to cover it. Beware the gossip line. Next time I’ll check my facts before I fall flat on my face and hurt someone else too. But at the same time, I feel strangely warm inside for some reason that’s more than the heat of the oven and the sun outside.
Charlie sighs. ‘You could take note …’
‘In what way?’ I’m querying, because I wasn’t expecting a comeback, other than reassurance that everything was okay.
His stare is grave, as if he knows he about to drop a bomb of his own. ‘It pays to know all the details. What happened with your dad and mum before you were born is exactly the same, sometimes half the truth isn’t enough. You need to carry on searching until you know it all.’
My nose is stinging again. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. And thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this.’ It’s not just his wedding. What he’s told me has made me see him in a different way. How could it not?
His eyes are soft as he smiles. ‘By the way, feel free to share this with your friends.’
I blow out a silent sigh of relief that he’s taken that decision for me. ‘I’ll be very discrete.’
‘When you lose someone the pain never gets any less. It’s so much worse when you caused it. I think that’s why I wanted to keep it under wraps for so long.’
His face is more relaxed again. ‘So after that, I definitely deserve the buttercream bowl to lick. Sooner rather than later would be good.’
‘Great. I’ll fill the piping bag.’ When I check my phone, I give a gasp of panic. ‘Jeez, look at the time, we need to move.’ I’m shaking my hands and I can’t stop.
Charlie’s staring at my hands. ‘One hour twenty is enough to finish. So long as you stop flapping and get your butt into gear.’
I know I’ve been sharing stuff with him. But I can’t possibly tell him how much I want tonight to go well. It’s like a test to see how far I’ve come. And if I pass it, there might just be a way forward for me to keep the flat and carry on doing what I love. With all that riding on it, it’s no wonder I’m shaking. And that’s before I get to thinking how I can help Charlie feel better. But that’s so big, I’ll have to give it some thought.
26
In Clemmie’s flat
Candle light and other inconveniences
Tuesday evening
In the end our candlelight diners are outnumbered three to one, because Sophie won’t hear of staying away. She brings Milla who’s an expert at baby entertaining after all the practice she’s had at home, and a crate load of toys suitable for a five-month-old. They also come with armfuls of meadow flowers to put on the table and in buckets on the balcony, and enough Mason jars to supply a preserving factory. By the time Plum has staggered up the stairs with her giant lanterns and Nell’s strung her hen coop fairy lights around, the balcony is all set to twinkle as the daylight fades.
As for that old saying ‘boys will be boys’, despite all my protests our resident guy goes rogue and insists on firing up his portable lava rock grill at the far end of the balcony. He’s also taken charge of the fizz and the ice buckets, leaving Nell and I to make the gin cocktail. We decide on a Bramble, to echo the lemon and blackberry cupcake theme we’ll be moving on to later.
As soon as Ben and Rachel arrive and Levi’s settled in his chair by the open French window with Milla on the rug beside him waggling her assortment of puppets and rattles, we show them out onto the balcony. It seems that most of St Aidan have heard about the French song mix now because that’s what they’ve asked for. So, with tea-lights flickering and ‘Boum!’ drifting out on the breeze across the bay they take their seats in directors chairs decked with flower posies, at the curly legged metal table borrowed from the bedroom.
For once, Plum’s swapped her dungarees for a snazzy black jumpsuit. As she swings outside with the cocktails Sophie’s in the kitchen arranging the herb garnish around the quiche plates, and Nell’s scuttled off to the bedroom with and a ring box and a cupcake.
Charlie comes in using the route across the landing, wine bottle in hand. ‘Here’s the prosecco. I’ll take it out with the starters, then I’ll be off to light the grill.’ With his sharp black trousers and snowy cotton shirt, his usual ‘hot’ just shot up to ‘searing’.
As he passes the kitchen table he catches sight of Sophie’s bag hanging from a chair. He screws his head around to read the printing on the large folder that’s sticking out from the top. ‘What’s this? Mood boards for Siren House?’ He catches Sophie’s eye across the table. ‘Isn’t that bit premature?’
I can see Sophie mouthing curses behind his head. ‘Sophie brought those for usgirlsto look at later. They definitely won’t beyourkind of thing.’ If he’d butted in like this last week I’d have felt like throttling him for winding her up. Since he told me about him losing his wife earlier all I want to do is wrap him up and hug him. As for the mood boards, they’ve been under construction for weeks. Ever since that first visit to Siren House, Sophie’s spent every spare minute sticking pieces of wool and paint swatches and photos onto sheets of hand-made paper. Although I’m not entirely sure why she’s bothering because everything I’ve seen so far seem to look like recreations of what she’s got at Hawthorne Farm.
Sophie picks a sprig of parsley off her apron and sniffs. ‘It’s never too early to gather design ideas.’ From her frosty expression and clipped speech, she’s aiming to shut him down.
Charlie hasn’t finished. ‘True. But if you haven’t bagged a buyer for the farm by now, you’ll be pushing it to make the auction at all.’
