by Karen King
‘Thanks so much,’ she said as they both reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘No problem. I was going to come around later to ask you if you wanted me to take Buddy anyway. I thought he might be too much for you.’ Marcus strode up the hall towards the front door, the cage cradled in his arms so that he didn’t unsettle Buddy too much. ‘If you wouldn’t mind opening the door for me,’ he called over his shoulder. He heard hurried steps behind him, then suddenly Hattie was standing in front of him, barring the door.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.
He stared at her. ‘Taking Buddy home, of course.’
‘You are not! This is Buddy’s home. I asked you to help me catch him, not to take him away.’
Marcus shifted the weight of the cage in his arms. ‘You’re telling me that you want me to leave him here? That you want to look after him?’
Hattie had her hands on her hips now and looked furious. ‘Yes, I am. How dare you assume that I wanted rid of him?’
‘Well, you couldn’t be bothered to visit your uncle, even when he was dying, so I presumed you wouldn’t want to look after his parrot!’
She tossed her head back and jutted out her chin. ‘Before you jump to conclusions and judge people, you should check your facts.’ Her eyes glittered and her cheeks glowed. ‘I lost touch with Uncle Albert because my parents divorced when I was twelve and my dad went to live in France with his new partner. Obviously, my mother didn’t want to come down and visit her brother-in-law and I wasn’t going to come down by myself, was I, when I barely knew him and was already trying to cope with the fallout from the divorce, as well as a new neighbourhood, new school and absent father. Yes, we lost touch, but Uncle Albert didn’t contact me to ask how I was, either. Communication works both ways!’ She grabbed the cage out of his arms. ‘I am very grateful to Uncle Albert for leaving me and my dad his cottage, and have every intention of looking after his parrot. So, if you wouldn’t mind letting yourself out!’ She stormed off into the lounge and slammed the door shut behind her with her foot.
Chapter Seven
Hattie was shaking with anger. That man was pig-headed, sanctimonious, judgemental and downright infuriating. And the less she saw of him the better. How dare he judge her like that without even knowing the facts? It’s not as if she even lived in the same area as Uncle Albert; she lived hundreds of miles away and he hadn’t been in touch with her once since her parents had split. No phone call, Christmas card, birthday card, zilch.
‘Bloody hell!’ Buddy squawked as Hattie clumsily dropped the cage down on the table. It was heavy!
‘Sorry, Buddy!’ She sank down into a chair, resting her head on her hands. She was exhausted already and had no idea how she was going to get Buddy back into the bigger cage and give this smaller one back to Marcus. She looked over at the couple of bananas in the fruit bowl by the fridge. Perhaps she could open the door of the big cage, put a banana inside it, carry this smaller one over to it, open the door, and then Buddy would hop from one cage to the other.
Or fly away again. That would be just her luck.
She closed her eyes, the turmoil of the past few days washing over her. She had lost her job and her home, then come down here on impulse, grasping at the chance to make a fresh start, but had she done the right thing? Should she have stopped in her flat until the month was up, and signed up with an agency to get office work? She’d already made an enemy, the cottage needed a lot of cleaning up, and the parrot was a nightmare. What if she made a mess of the wedding photography next Saturday, too?
If she got the job, that was. She had only ever photographed friends’ weddings before. Mandy had said that Ellie was the manager’s daughter and her husband-to-be, Reece, the hotel co-owner. They would be expecting professional photographs. What if hers weren’t good enough?
There was a knock on the lounge door, and she looked around as it slowly opened.
‘Is it safe to come in?’ Marcus asked, poking his head around the door.
God, is he still here?
‘If you’re waiting for your cage back, I’ll leave it in your yard later,’ she said wearily.
‘I thought you might need help to get Buddy back in his big cage.’
Marcus was looking at her hesitantly, as though wondering whether she might throw something at him – it would be no more than he deserved if she did! She wanted to tell him to get lost, that she was quite capable of getting Buddy into the big cage by herself, but she knew that she probably couldn’t, and she didn’t want to risk losing him again.
‘That might be a good idea. Then you can take your cage back with you,’ she said. ‘Do you need another banana? I’ve got a couple.’
‘Yes. And . . .’
She eyed him suspiciously. ‘Yes?’
‘Well, I guess I owe you an apology. I don’t really know your circumstances so shouldn’t judge but, in my defence, it was hard seeing your uncle so ill and no family bothering to get in touch or visit him.’
‘We didn’t know he was ill. Dad never said – I don’t think he even knew.’
‘Albert was a proud man. I guess he didn’t want to bother anyone.’ Marcus nodded at the cage on the table. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take Buddy? He’s used to me and I don’t mind looking after him. I did have him at mine for a bit, but he’s nervous of my cat, Mr Tibbs.’
She guessed that was the black cat she’d seen on the wall. She didn’t blame Buddy; the cat’s eyes were a bit mesmerising. ‘I can manage.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Let’s get him in the big cage, shall we? And I’ll be more careful next time I feed him.’
‘Albert used to let him out every evening for a fly around,’ Marcus told her. ‘To be honest, I think he was out of the cage more than he was in it, when Albert was home, which was a lot, in the later years. He adored that bird.’
‘Which is one of the reasons I’m going to keep him. No matter what you think, I’m grateful to Uncle Albert for leaving me a share of this cottage, and I’m going to look after Buddy for him. It’s the least I can do.’
Marcus’s hazel eyes flitted to her face then he nodded. ‘Fine. Well, if you need any help or advice with him, ask me and I promise not to bite your head off. And if you change your mind and want me to have him, then let me know. It’s not a problem. I can keep Mr Tibbs away from him. I could put his cage in the attic, he’d be safe there.’
‘Thanks.’ She picked up the cage. ‘Shall we do this?’
Another banana and a few minutes later, Buddy was back in his cage. His retort of ‘Bloody hell!’ when the cage door was closed on him made Hattie giggle. ‘My mum used to cover my ears whenever he swore when we used to holiday here.’
‘And when was the last time you were here?’ Marcus asked. He held up his hands, palms outwards. ‘Genuine question.’
‘The summer before my parents split. I was eleven, so seventeen years.’
‘Ah, so that’s why I’ve never seen you. Your uncle talked about you, though, showed me some photos of when you were little.’
‘Really?’ She was touched that her uncle had talked about her to Marcus. Suddenly she wanted to know more about Uncle Albert. ‘Look, I’m going to have a coffee, do you fancy one?’
She saw his slight hesitation. ‘I’d love to, but I’m running late. Can we do it another time?’
‘Of course.’ She wondered if he was meeting a girlfriend; a guy like him was bound to be hooked up with someone. Or if he simply didn’t want to spend any more time with her than he had to. He might have apologised, but it was evident she still didn’t rate very highly in his opinions, which was fine as she didn’t think much of him either. He had obviously cared a lot about Uncle Albert though, and been really kind to him. And he was her neighbour, so it was best if they could at least be polite to each other.
He’d been tempted to stop for a coffee; he felt a bit of a heel for how he’d accused her of not caring about her uncle, and he could understand
now why she hadn’t been down to see him, a distant older brother of her father and someone she had only met a few times as a child. He wasn’t normally so quick to judge, but poor Albert had been so lonely and struggled so much. Hattie had said that none of them had known, and he believed her. Albert had been as stubborn as a mule – obviously a family trait, he thought with a wry smile, remembering how Hattie had insisted she would look after Buddy, although he was sure the parrot would be too much for her. Buddy was as cantankerous as his owner had been. He just hoped that Hattie would accept defeat before the bird pined away. Or escaped out of an open window. Maybe now they had made some kind of truce he could pop by occasionally and ask how Buddy was doing. That way he could keep an eye on him.
Meanwhile, now he really did have to go. He had to get over to Thomwell Manor, on the outskirts of Truro, and finish the painting Lady Felicity Thomwell had commissioned him to do for her husband’s sixty-fifth birthday.
Felicity was friendly, but kept a professional distance. Not like her daughter, Estelle, who had just returned from Paris for the painting – which was of the Manor, with Felicity and Estelle dressed in crinolines and holding parasols, picnicking on the lawn – and had made no secret of the fact that she would like to get to know Marcus better. Much better. It was tempting; she was older than him, early forties he’d guess, beautiful, outrageous, and used to wrapping men around her little finger, but he had a firm rule to never get involved with a client or a member of their family. However, the more Marcus kept his distance, the more outrageous Estelle became. He wouldn’t be surprised if one week she didn’t walk into the room Felicity had set aside for him to use completely naked and offer to pose for him! Male artists often had an unfair reputation of being womanisers, when the truth was, it was often the clients who did the chasing – there was something about an artist they seemed to find irresistible. He had the same rule about getting involved with holidaymakers. He’d only broken that rule once, and that had been a big mistake that he would never repeat.
He changed into a T-shirt and jeans, grabbed his phone and a bottle of water, and set off. His painting materials were already in his van.
Thomwell Manor was a beautiful old house surrounded by colourful, well-looked-after gardens. Marcus knew that Felicity and Rupert Thomwell often entertained, and ran many high-profile charity events, and he had been delighted when she had approached him to do a special painting for Lord Rupert’s sixty-fifth birthday. Marcus had spent hours on the painting – usually on Sunday afternoons when Lord Rupert was out golfing – but really needed to make more progress as it was Lord Rupert’s birthday in two weeks’ time. Marcus would miss coming to the Manor, it was beautiful and peaceful, and Lady Felicity kept him supplied with snacks and drinks, whilst Estelle was entertaining company. She was tempting too, if he was honest, but even though he was single and could do what he liked, she wasn’t tempting enough to risk all the trouble a relationship with her would bring. And to be honest, apart from the obvious, she wasn’t the kind of woman he was attracted to.
Whereas Hattie . . .
He shut the thought down right away. Hattie might not be as selfish as he’d first thought her to be, and was undeniably gorgeous, but she wasn’t the sort of girl he’d get involved with either. He’d bet high odds that she’d have the cottage on the market within a month. She was definitely not a little-seaside-town girl.
Pushing all thoughts of Hattie out of his mind, he set up his easel outside and got to work, and was soon absorbed in recreating the house in front of him in oils on the paper. It was coming on well, he’d be adding the two women to the painting soon, their position on the lawn already pencilled in.
‘Fancy a drink?’
He turned to see Estelle, clad in the skimpiest of bikinis, holding out an enticing-looking cocktail. ‘Don’t worry, it’s a mocktail. I know you don’t drink alcohol when you’re working. Which is a bit boring, if you ask me. I thought artists were all a bit wild and spent most of their time out of their head.’
‘We wouldn’t get much painting done, if we did,’ he told her wryly. He put the palette and brush down and took the ice-cold drink off her. ‘Thanks.’
‘It looks good,’ she told him. ‘You’re very talented.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I was hoping you might do me a favour.’ She sipped her drink slowly through her straw, her eyes meeting his. ‘Don’t look so worried, you’ll enjoy it. I promise.’
Chapter Eight
Hattie spent the morning cleaning up Uncle Albert’s bedroom ready for Mali and Lou to sleep in when they came down the day after tomorrow, then made herself a sandwich for lunch, got changed and went to Gwel Teg to meet Ellie and Reece.
She’d been a bit nervous about meeting them, but she needn’t have worried – they were both very warm and friendly and loved the photographs that she showed them.
‘We want our wedding to be relaxed and informal. That’s why we are having it here, at Gwel Teg,’ Ellie said. ‘I’ll feel like my dad is watching over me here, as if he’s part of it too.’
‘Your dad died here?’ Hattie asked softly. Ellie didn’t seem much older than herself; her dad must have died young.
‘Yes, just over four years ago,’ Ellie told her. ‘It was totally unexpected, a heart attack.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Hattie wasn’t particularly close to her dad but she would hate it if he died. Maybe I should make more of an effort with my dad, she thought. He seemed to be trying harder to keep in touch with her now, phoning her quite regularly since they’d learnt the contents of Uncle Albert’s will, but still Hattie kept it short, never discussing anything personal.
Reece left Ellie to discuss the photos with Hattie whilst he checked on various things to do with the hotel. ‘Whatever Ellie wants is fine with me,’ he said.
‘Let me take you around first, show you the room where the ceremony and reception are taking place, and the grounds where we want the photos taken,’ Ellie suggested.
‘That would be really helpful, thank you.’
Ellie led her down a hallway to the back of the hotel. ‘We had an extension built last year so that we could host weddings and business conferences,’ she said. ‘It was Reece’s idea, and it’s proved really successful.’ Ellie pushed open some double doors and they both stepped into a long dining room, with a wooden tiled floor and large windows that let in a lot of light. There was a stage to the left immediately as they walked in, and on the far side were some chairs and a table stacked against the wall.
Hattie followed Ellie through the folding doors in the middle of the room. ‘We close these doors to make the area for the wedding ceremony smaller, more personal, and then after the ceremony the doors are opened to give more space for the reception and evening entertainment.’ Ellie closed the doors behind them to illustrate.
Hattie’s gaze flitted around the now-smaller room, then over to the closed folding doors. ‘So, you open the doors after the ceremony and go through for the wedding breakfast?’
‘Yes. Then we move the tables to the side for the entertainment in the evening.’
Hattie nodded. ‘That sounds ideal. I presume there will be chairs placed in rows for the guests to sit here?’
‘Yes, we have covers for the chairs and tables – the theme is white and gold. There will be two rows of chairs and a table, covered and decorated, where the registrar will conduct the ceremony. I’ll walk in then, under an arch decorated with flowers, and follow the red carpet to the front of the room where Reece will be standing. Mum will be giving me away.’ She smiled. ‘Mandy’s made our wedding cake, it’s a hobby of hers, and we’re using a local florist.’ Her face lit up as she explained the ceremony to Hattie.
She looked so happy and in love, Hattie thought, imagining Reece standing at the front and Ellie walking up the aisle towards him, their guests watching. The room was so light and airy, she would be able to take some beautiful photos. ‘Perfect. And what about outside photos?’
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sp; ‘We’ve got a pergola at the bottom of the garden, and the beach is right below. That’s where the usual photographer takes most of the photos. Come outside and I’ll show you.’
Hattie followed her outside to a surprisingly big garden with immaculate lawns and colourful flower beds. At the bottom of the garden was a wooden domed pergola, the sparkling ocean a spectacular backdrop behind it. The perfect setting for some stunning photos. ‘How gorgeous!’ she said. ‘It’s the perfect setting for a wedding.’
‘Thank you, we think so too.’ Ellie smiled. ‘Now, if you’re happy to take the job, let’s go inside and discuss terms over a cool drink.’
‘I’d be delighted to accept the job,’ Hattie told her.
Half an hour later, an agreement had been signed, with a very lucrative fee, to Hattie’s delight.
‘Mum said that you’ve just moved down to Port Medden,’ Ellie said after she had shown Hattie the Silver Room on the second floor where she and the bridesmaids would be getting ready, telling her that she would like some photos of the pre-wedding preparations too. They were now both sitting in the private quarters sipping an iced tea.
‘Yes, my uncle – someone I haven’t seen for years – died and left his cottage between me and my father, so I came down to spruce it up ready to sell. My father and stepmother run a B&B in France and he can’t get away yet.’ Ellie was a good listener and Hattie found herself confiding in her about the split with Adam, losing her flat, and then her job. ‘It seemed a good opportunity to reassess my life.’
‘It seems a wise choice to me. And your photos are lovely, I’m sure you’ll have no problem getting work down here. We’re hoping to hold weddings regularly at the hotel, so would be happy to recommend you to other couples who want to get married here.’
‘You haven’t seen your wedding photos yet,’ Hattie quipped.
‘They’ll be gorgeous, I know they will,’ Ellie told her.
Ellie’s kindness and confidence in her made Hattie determined not to let her down.
