‘Lovely to meet you, Calliope.’ He peered behind her. ‘Is that your case? Let me carry it in. I’ve just put the kettle on. Would you like tea?’
Callie nodded. She followed him along the stone flagged hall into a sunny kitchen-diner-family room. Jonathan deposited her case at the bottom of a steep set of stairs and began making tea.He made it the old-fashioned way using a teapot. For some weird reason, this reassured her a little. She doubted axe murderers bothered warming the pot first.
‘There’s scones and jam too. Would you like some?’ He nodded towards the wicker basket on the work surface. ‘It’s a pretty impressive welcome pack.’
‘Just tea please.’ She perched on a stool, one foot on the floor, ready to run if necessary. She was hot, tired and irritated. Why shouldsherun? She’d booked the cottage.Heshould be the one to move out!
Jonathan eyed her. Putting the tea things on the breakfast bar he said kindly, ‘Look, you drink your tea and I’ll phone Miss Grosvenor. I’ll have to go outside though: it’s the only place I can get a decent signal.’
Callie concentrated on pouring tea, ridiculously close to tears. She’d been looking forward to visiting Lullbury Bay for ages.
As she drank, she watched Jonathan in the back garden. With his silvering hair and smooth suntanned skin Frida would declare him a hottie. Her daughter was always on at her to find a man. Callie could hear one or two words of the conversation float through the open French doors.
‘Can you hear me now?’ His voice rose. ‘Yes, the receptionispoor. We’ve got a bit of a situation here.’
Judging by his gesticulating the conversation wasn’t going his way. She wondered who had booked first. Surely that person would have priority. Hoping it was her, she gazed at Jonathan, regretting that she would have to spoil his holiday. He seemed okay. Impeccable manners. Kind too. He didn’t have to take on sorting the mess out.
The tea helped restore her reason. She found a tiny downstairs loo decorated in seaside creams and blues, splashed icy water on her face and dragged a comb through her hair.Her curls were already frizzing; they always did at the seaside. She pulled a face at herself reflected in the mirror. Red hair and freckles didn’t always do heat well. One reason she avoided places like Ibiza.
The cottage, immaculately decorated, had its walls filled with art prints. An eclectic mix with no apparent theme, Gauguin mingled with Botticelli and her favourite Georgia O’Keeffe. It intrigued her. She’d expected the usual but anonymous sea views or cartoon seagulls. Returning to the kitchen, she felt much more in control by the time Jonathan came in.
He flung himself onto the sand-coloured sofa, drank his tea down in one and looked Callie in the eye, pulling a face. ‘Do you want the good news or the bad?’
She was intrigued to see his hand shook ever so slightly as it gripped his mug. Maybe he was more rattled by the situation than he was letting on? ‘That bad, eh? I’ll take the good first.’ She managed a laugh, warming to him.
‘The good news is Miss Grosvenor is appalled at her mistake and is refunding all our costs.’
‘But?’
‘She has no other cottages available and doubts there is anything else around.’
Callie sank back against her stool. ‘It being August.’
He nodded. ‘Apparently, there’s a huge art festival on, it’s Lifeboat Week and there’s some kind of food event on too. Lullbury Bay is rammed.’
‘One reason I’ve come,’ Callie explained. ‘For the Art Festival. I’m an art teacher.’ She poured them both more tea and took a fresh mug to him. Settling on the opposite sofa, she asked, ‘Why are you here?’
‘My youngest sister lives here. My niece is getting christened tomorrow. Our family have rented a house further up the hill.’
‘No room for you, Jonathan?’ she tried not to sound too hopeful.
He chuckled. ‘Please, it’s Johnny. Jonathan’s a real mouthful. And, don’t get me wrong, I love my family dearly.’ He winced. ‘I have four sisters. Between them they have nine children. Plus my parents and assorted aunts and uncles.’ He looked out at the peaceful garden. ‘Thought I’d get more work done here.’
‘Oh, so this isn’t just a holiday for you?’
‘No, I’m staying on after the party tomorrow.’ He shot her a look. ‘Or was hoping to. I write travel articles,’ he added. ‘I’m here to write about the resurgence of the British seaside holiday.’
‘Sounds more exciting than being a teacher.’
‘Judging from my sisters’ children,’ he said, with a grin, ‘I’d say being a teacher is quite exciting enough!’
Callie laughed again, this time more freely. She felt herself begin to relax. Jonathan – Johnny –wasnice. An idea was beginning to form. She planned on being out quite a lot. Maybe…
Uncannily he picked up on her thoughts. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ve been thinking. There are two bedrooms upstairs, each with its own en suite. Instead of us wasting time looking for other accommodation, why don’t we share? I’ll be at my sister’s so not here much and, as I don’t cook, the kitchen will be yours. Let me show you upstairs and you’ll see.’
He hauled Callie’s suitcase up the narrow stairs. Although the cottage was smaller upstairs, there was a wide landing, with two doors facing one another. Johnny flung one open.
‘Yours.’ He dropped the case by the wardrobe and invited her to the window. ‘How could you resist a view like this? My room has the same.’
