by Karen King
As she stepped into the lounge and closed the door behind her, she felt a sudden wave of loneliness. Is that how Uncle Albert had felt, sitting here every day on his own? she thought, feeling a stab of guilt. You didn’t know, she reminded herself, you hardly knew him. If only he had reached out, though, she was sure the family would have made an effort to see him. At least he’d had Marcus, and she was grateful for that. So grateful that she decided that when Marcus popped in on the way home from work tonight to see how Buddy was, she would make an extra-special effort to be friendly to him.
Chapter Sixteen
It took Marcus all afternoon, but he finally finished the painting. It would have to be framed, but at least it was finished and had time to dry before the party on Sunday. He was so relieved that he didn’t mind that he’d had to stop longer than he’d wanted and go straight onto his shift at Gwel Teg.
When he’d arrived, Estelle had greeted him with a triumphant look and he had merely smiled and been his usual polite self, with no mention at all of the picture she had sent him, although she would know that he’d received it because the message would show the two blue ticks that indicated it had been read.
She had flirted consistently throughout the day, even stroking his arm and patting his backside at one point, but he’d remained polite and professional, knowing that if he responded with any kind of friendliness, she would take it as a sign he was interested in her.
He stood back as Lady Felicity and Estelle both studied the painting.
‘The paint is still a bit tacky, so it’s best not to touch it,’ he warned them.
‘I love it. And so will my husband,’ Lady Felicity said approvingly. ‘And I must say, we really look the part, don’t we, Estelle?’
Estelle flashed Marcus a dazzling smile. ‘We certainly do. Although, I’m very pleased that I don’t live in those times. Women were so restricted. I like to be free.’ She gave Marcus a knowing look.
‘I think that was only on the surface, dear. Victorian women weren’t as strait-laced as everyone thinks. Especially the higher classes. It was accepted that you would marry someone with money to keep the property within the family, provide an heir and then you were free to satisfy your own desires – and both partners often did.’
‘I think that’s still pretty much what goes on today,’ Estelle said.
‘Well, it certainly wasn’t in our case, I can assure you,’ Lady Felicity retorted. ‘Now, let me settle up with you for this, Marcus. And you will come along to Rupert’s birthday party on Sunday, won’t you? I know he’ll want to meet the artist who painted this wonderful picture. It will be good networking for you too; I think this will gain you a few commissions.’
There was nothing he wanted to do less. Marcus had been planning on spending the day surfing. He was working at Gwel Teg all day Saturday because of the wedding and was looking forward to a complete day off on Sunday. Hobnobbing with the Thomwells was definitely not his idea of fun. And it would mean socialising with Estelle without having the excuse of working for her father to turn down her advances.
‘Well . . .’
‘Of course you must come. I’ll come and pick you up. We don’t want you arriving in that ghastly camper van. And do dress up smart, this is a special occasion,’ Estelle said firmly.
He definitely didn’t want Estelle picking him up, but perhaps he ought to go. Lady Thomwell was right, it could get him some important commissions. He intended to make his own way there, though, and definitely didn’t want to accompany Estelle. Neither did he want her telling him how to dress.
‘Nonsense, darling, Marcus can dress as he chooses – his hippiness is part of his charm,’ Lady Felicity said. ‘The party is starting at three. Don’t be late, will you?’ This last remark was directed at Marcus. ‘I’ll just go and get my chequebook,’ she said, walking off.
‘Ignore Mother, she thinks it’s trendy to befriend a bohemian artist. You have to look the part if you want to get the right kind of business. If you arrive in your surfer clothes, no one will take you seriously. You really need to make the right impression.’
‘I know you mean well, Estelle, but I’m an artist not a businessman. People commission me for how I paint, not how I look. If your mother is happy for me to come as myself, then that’s fine by me. I’ll be there at three on the dot, but I won’t be able to stay long as I have plans for the afternoon.’
Estelle pouted. ‘No need to get all haughty, I was only trying to help.’
Take over more like. Which is one of the reasons he would never have a relationship with Estelle, even if she wasn’t a client’s daughter. He had no interest in women who wanted him to conform – he liked individuality.
Like Hattie.
An image of her clutching the tablecloth around her naked body, the pretty stars-and-crescent moon tattoo clearly visible on the top of her right arm, flashed across his mind, followed by another one of her clad in black leathers, astride her motorbike. He’d never met anyone quite like Hattie. Then, he had an idea. If he could persuade Hattie to come with him, that would surely put Estelle off? But would Hattie agree to it?
‘Perhaps I could bring my girlfriend, then I can stay a little longer,’ he suggested.
He saw Estelle’s eyes narrow. ‘Girlfriend? You didn’t mention this before.’
‘We haven’t been dating that long, although it’s got serious very fast and I am going out with her on Sunday evening.’
Estelle’s blood-red lips parted into a cunning smile. ‘Of course, do bring her. I’d love to meet her.’
Marcus realised that rather than put Estelle off, the knowledge that he had a girlfriend was merely a challenge to her. And what if he couldn’t persuade Hattie to come?
‘I’ll ask her, she might prefer to give it a miss.’
Estelle ran her tongue between her lips. ‘Whatever she decides I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun.’
Lady Thomwell returned then, brandishing his cheque, and Estelle walked off, swaying her hips seductively. She certainly wasn’t going to be put off easily, Marcus thought. And how the hell was he going to broach the subject of coming to the party with him to Hattie?
It was about a quarter to eleven when Hattie finally heard a knock on the door.
‘I’m sorry I’m so late, a couple of the diners really took their time,’ Marcus apologised. ‘I was wondering whether to leave it until tomorrow but thought you might be waiting so I should at least explain.’
‘No worries, I’m still up sorting out the kitchen. Come in.’ She opened the door wide enough for him to step inside.
‘Hello, Buddy,’ Marcus said as he walked in. Immediately Buddy turned around and started squawking loudly. ‘Bloody hell! Hello! Hello!’ he shouted.
Marcus grinned. ‘Well, you looked pleased to see me.’
Buddy was practically hopping up and down on the perch. He looked so animated as Marcus walked over to the cage. Hattie watched as Marcus thrust his hand in his pocket, took out a slice of apple and held it out to the parrot. Buddy took it very carefully with his beak, standing on one leg while he held the slice of apple with the other claw and started nibbling at it. She could hardly believe the change in the parrot. He really was very fond of Marcus.
‘Well, you’ve cheered him up,’ she said.
Marcus looked inside the cage. ‘He’s losing quite a few feathers, which is a sure sign he’s stressed. I see you’re managing to clean his cage without him getting out.’
‘I got Lou to distract him, and Mali guarded the door while I cleaned the paper and changed the water. Not sure how I’m going to manage on my own, though; I’m scared he’s going to escape and fly off again.’
‘Once he gets used to you it’ll be fine. He’ll return to the cage if you leave the door open. He’s just a bit confused about what’s going on at the moment. Aren’t you, fella?’ Marcus said. Buddy squawked loudly and danced along on the branch.
Marcus dug a grape out of his pocket and held it out, close to the
bars. Buddy walked down the bars head first, gripped the grape in his beak, climbed back up the bars again to the branch, where he stood on one leg, holding it with the other claw, and gently nibbled it.
Hattie felt a lump form in her throat. It was obvious that the parrot loved Marcus, and Marcus loved him. Was she being selfish keeping him?
He was her last link with Uncle Albert, she reminded herself, and she owed it to her uncle to keep his parrot in the cottage.
What about when the cottage was sold, though?
‘What are you going to do with Buddy when you move?’ It was almost as if Marcus had read her thoughts.
‘Take him with me,’ she replied, although she hadn’t really thought that far ahead and wasn’t even sure that it was a sensible thing to do.
‘What and leave him in a city flat all day while you’re out at work, then again in the evening while you go out with your mates?’
She didn’t like the tone of his voice. How dare he make assumptions about her? He didn’t even know her. She’d been stupid to think he’d changed, he obviously still disapproved of her, he’d only been pleasant because of Mali and Lou.
‘Don’t judge me, you don’t know me.’ She fixed him with a steely glare. ‘I might not know much about looking after a parrot but I’ll learn. For Uncle Albert’s sake. I’m grateful for your help but please don’t assume that I’d neglect Buddy if you weren’t here. I’m not that kind of person.’
His eyes met hers, his expression unfathomable, then he nodded. ‘Point taken. I’m not saying that you’re selfish and don’t care about Buddy. I’m just trying to point out that this has been his home for years. His owner has gone, now I’m gone too, and soon you intend to whisk him away from his home. I’m not sure he’ll survive all that upheaval.’
Hattie chewed her lip as she looked at the parrot. Was he right? Other people move and take their pets with them, she reminded herself. And she wouldn’t be moving for a few months. Buddy would have got used to her by the time they found a buyer and the sale went through. She could see that Marcus’s concern was genuine, but wondered if part of the reason he was so dismayed at her taking Buddy with her when she left was because he was fond of the parrot himself and would miss him. Which was a shame, but he couldn’t care for Buddy with Mr Tibbs prowling around, could he?
She raised her chin determinedly. ‘I’ll spend more time talking to him, and if you could come around every now and again, let him out so he can have a fly around, then he’ll be happier, and once I get more confident with him I can let him out myself. By the time I move, I’m sure he’ll have got used to me and I’ll have learnt to care for him.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Look, it’s late now, so I’ll be off but we both have a big day tomorrow – Shanise said you’re taking the photos of Ellie and Reece’s wedding.’ He paused, looking a bit awkward. She wondered if he was remembering the day he had snapped at her about photographing him.
‘Look, sorry I was such a grouse about you taking a photo of my surfing,’ he continued. There was a silence as if he was wondering what to say but then he blurted out, ‘We haven’t really got off on the best foot, have we? And I know that’s mainly my fault for jumping to conclusions. In my defence, I thought the world of your uncle and have become very fond of Buddy. But that doesn’t excuse my rudeness.’ He held out his hand. ‘Can we put it all behind us and be friends?’
Well, that was a surprise! He looked genuine, though, and she would like them to be on a friendlier footing. He was her only neighbour at the moment, and they’d both be working at the hotel tomorrow. She held out her hand. ‘Of course.’
As their hands clasped she felt a frisson of awareness shoot through her and couldn’t help noticing how his hand was strong but soft and rather than shaking hers, he was holding it; the feel of his fingers on her fingers; the soft smile on his lips; the wavy lock of hair that had escaped his low ponytail and was skimming his cheek, the silver earring clearly visible. She had to stop herself from reaching out with the hand he wasn’t holding and pushing the lock of hair back, wanting to feel the texture of it between her fingers. It was as though they were both locked in that moment, gazing at each other, their hands touching, their bodies only centimetres apart, and she wondered if the same spark that was dancing through her body was dancing through his.
‘How about I come around in the morning – about nine?’ His voice brought her back to her senses and she quickly removed her hand, still not sure if it had been him holding onto her or her holding onto him. ‘We can let Buddy out to have a bit of a fly around before we both have to go and prepare for the wedding. That will cheer him up.’
‘That sounds great. Thanks.’ Her voice sounded strange to her ears, high-pitched. False. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.
‘See you tomorrow, then.’ Marcus put his head closer to the cage. ‘Bye, fella.’
Buddy rolled his head to one side and peered at him ‘Bugger off!’
Hattie burst out laughing and so did Marcus.
Chapter Seventeen
The silence hit Hattie as soon as she awoke the next morning. The last few days, she’d been woken by Lou’s laughter, the TV or radio blaring, signs of life. Now Mali and Lou had gone home, she was on her own, which would have been fine in her flat in Bristol, but here, down in Uncle Albert’s cottage, surrounded by memories of the happy times when they were all a family together, the silence was unsettling. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you’ve got a busy day today,’ she told herself. She had the wedding to photograph at two o’clock that afternoon, her first proper commission. She’d promised to be at Gwel Teg for twelve so she could take some photos of Ellie getting ready for the wedding. Then she remembered that Marcus would be around at nine o’clock, and it was gone eight now. She showered and pulled on a pair of shorts and T-shirt, then added a touch of light make-up and brushed her hair. She’d just got downstairs when there was a knock on the front door. She opened it to find Marcus standing there with a cup of coffee and a plate of toast.
‘Morning,’ he said as he stepped inside. ‘Hope you don’t mind me bringing my breakfast with me, but I have to be at the hotel for eleven.’
‘That’s fine, I have to be there at twelve, so I can take some pre-wedding photos.’ She led the way into the kitchen.
He munched a mouthful of toast, then replied. ‘Makes sense. We’d better get cracking then.’ He put the mug of coffee on the table, then walked over to the cage. ‘Morning, Buddy!’
‘Hello, hello!’ Buddy squealed, jigging along the branch. ‘Where you been?’
‘You’re a cheeky chappie, aren’t you?’ Marcus broke off a corner of his marmalade-covered toast and handed it to the parrot, who immediately scrambled down to grab it with his beak then went back up onto the perch to eat it.
‘He loves toast and marmalade for breakfast,’ Marcus said. ‘I was thinking, we could open the cage and let him have a quick fly around while I eat my breakfast? Is that okay with you? He hasn’t been out for a while now and must be desperate to stretch his wings.’
‘What if we can’t get him back in?’ Hattie asked, worried.
‘I’m sure we will. If not you could leave the cage open and the lounge door shut so he can’t fly anywhere else. He’ll probably be back in his cage when you come home.
So, she opened the cage as Marcus sat down to eat his breakfast. ‘There you go, Buddy.’ The parrot eyed her warily and stayed put. Typical. If she hadn’t wanted him to come out, he’d have been out like a shot.
‘I think I’ll have some toast too,’ she said, switching on the toaster.
She toasted two slices of bread and buttered them, added marmalade, then looked around as she heard a loud squawk. Buddy was standing on the table beside Marcus, nibbling at a bit of toast from his plate. He looked so cute that she couldn’t resist grabbing her camera and taking a photo.
Marcus looked over and grinned. ‘I’ll send it to you,’ she promised, then remembered that she hadn’t got his phone n
umber. Heck, did that sound like she was fishing for it?
Marcus obviously mistook her sudden awkwardness as her wondering if she should sit down at the table. ‘If you walk over slowly and don’t make any sudden moves, you’ll be okay to sit down,’ he told her.
She walked over as slowly as she could and gently eased the chair out to sit down. Buddy swivelled his head around to stare at her, then swivelled it back and carried on pecking away at the toast.
‘He really seems to be perking up,’ Marcus said, his toast finished.
‘I hope so. I do talk to him a lot, don’t I, Buddy? And I always put the radio on when I go out. I thought some background noise might make him feel more secure.’ She bit into her toast, feeling self-conscious now that Marcus had finished his. Toast was a noisy, messy thing to eat.
‘Good idea,’ Marcus told her, swigging back his coffee.
Buddy had turned to watch now as Hattie took another bite of her toast. Suddenly, he pattered over and snatched the last bit out of her hands, then scooted off to the other side of the table to eat it himself.
‘Buddy! That’s naughty!’ Marcus scolded him, while Hattie burst into a peal of laughter. Marcus joined in too, his head thrown back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I wish he’d laugh more often, instead of being so grumpy and disapproving, Hattie thought.
‘Bugger off!’ Buddy replied, pecking at the toast.
‘Good job I’ve got another piece.’ Hattie picked it up off her plate, eyeing Buddy warily, although she was actually pleased that he’d come over to her, even if he had pinched some of her toast. ‘Does he often snatch food like that?’
‘Yes, given half a chance. He’s a bit cheeky, and Albert indulged him. He was his only company – and that’s not a dig,’ he added, obviously noticing the look on Hattie’s face. ‘Make sure you scold him and shoo him away if he does, though. Buddy will rule the roost if you let him.’
