‘Let me just check what I’ve heard: Lando is trying to buy the place next door and gift it to me?’
George nods. ‘That’s correct. It will also include a contract with a builder to deliver a package of renovations.’
Now I fully understand, I have one reaction.
‘I’ve never asked for his help, and I don’t intend to start now.’
George raises an eyebrow. ‘He thought you might say that.’ He puts his palms together and stretches out his fingers, then smiles at me before he starts again. ‘It’s my job to tell you that as a single parent with a child, accepting this offer would put you on a secure financial footing moving into the future. You could always rent the place out, or sell later to release funds to help with university education. He feels it’s a lot less than he owes you anyway.’
I let out a sigh. ‘I know it makes sense, but I just can’t do it.’
George nods again. ‘It’s a lot to take in. Mr Nancarrow suggested we give you a week to think it over.’ He’s still got his hands together. ‘In complete confidence, I understand that your daughter is unaware of her relationship with Lando. He’s very sorry for the trouble he’s caused with his return as it was never his intention to disrupt your lives, and all he wants to do now is to make things as right as he can. And to that end, he has decided to relocate outside the county.’
It hits me like a punch in the stomach and I stare at George. ‘Lando’s leaving? But what about his twenty-five-year project planting reed beds?’
George is impassive. ‘I can only assume he’ll be handing that on to someone else. I think he’s trying to reassure you that he won’t be around to impede your enjoyment of the cottage should you decide to accept his offer.’
I sink back in my chair. ‘Right.’
George raises his eyebrows again. ‘He also asked me to tell you that if you have anything you’d like to discuss with him in the meantime, you’ll find him at Smugglers End.’
I blow out a breath. ‘And after that he’ll be gone?’
I can’t believe how bleak and final it sounds. But this is my doing and my choice, and I’m going to have to live with this.
George nods. ‘That’s right. I’m very much the messenger here. I know it’s come as a shock, but take some time to think it over, and you may see things differently. Any questions you have, I’m always here, as are the muffins.’ He pulls a face and pats his stomach. ‘We buy the big boxes, and they’re a lot for me to eat on my own.’
I roll my eyes at him as I get up. ‘Thank you, George, I’ll definitely give it some thought.’
Before I reach the door, he’s there holding it open for me. And seconds later I’m standing in the sunlight, looking at those bobbing boats.
49
Climbing Rose Cottage, St Aidan, Cornwall
No returns and the art of doing nothing
Tuesday
It’s funny how inertia works. If George had said to do nothing and the house would be mine, I might have found myself as owner by default. As it is, the days pass and I still haven’t been able to bring myself to go back to George’s office. And it’s the same with Lando leaving. I know I’d said I couldn’t bear to see him at work, but I hadn’t considered the longer term. The thought of never seeing him again has me crying into my pillow, yet my feet still refuse to take me across that harbourside to his door. It’s as if my limbs and my emotions are paralysed yet completely conflicted; I’m too scared of being hurt to be with Lando, but the thought of never seeing him again is ripping my heart into pieces.
Then, the evening before George’s deadline, Paul’s doing the bedtime stories and I’m downstairs clearing up after a mega waffle-making session when my phone pings. I see it’s a text from Lando and drop my scourer and collapse onto a stool.
There’s something I need to give you before I leave. I’ll come to Windflowers at eight.
Mum looks up from her ironing. ‘Is that Lando?’
‘How did you know?’
She comes across and puts her arms around me, I bury my face in her shoulder, and swallow a sob. ‘He’s asking to meet at the beach hut in ten minutes.’
‘Whatever he’s asking you to do, just this once, please agree.’ She rubs my back in the same way she does when she’s soothing her babies. ‘Go and see him. For me, not for you.’
I blow my nose, scrape away the tears under my eyelashes, and slip off my apron. ‘I’ll take Angel.’
Mum gives my arm a squeeze. ‘Good girl. Take a coat, it’s cold out there tonight.’
I grab a jacket and Angel’s lead, and as we battle into a headwind all the way to Windflowers the moon is lighting up the surf lines as the waves thrash onto the sand.
