“That woman’s worth her weight in gold. I’d better double her wages and steal her. If she’s pretty I’ll triple them,” Max had grinned, sitting down uninvited at the table and stretching out his long legs. As he’d done so, his dark hair had fallen over his face and he’d pushed it back impatiently.
Adam had seen that gesture a thousand times; if they’d been playing poker, it would have told him all he needed to know. “Whatever you want, the answer’s no,” he’d said.
Max hadn’t bothered to deny that he wanted something. “You’ll change your mind when you hear what it is.”
“My car’s crap; you hate my house; my clothes are George at Asda, not Giorgio Armani; and you don’t need to borrow a tenner.” Adam had ticked all these off on his fingers and then frowned. “There’s nothing I have that you need.”
“Apart from this tea. God, I need a cuppa.” Max had helped himself to Adam’s mug of builder’s best and was glugging it happily. Then he’d caught sight of the television. “Christ, tell me you’re not seriously watching Jeremy bloody Kyle? I’m not a moment too soon.”
“Not a moment too soon for what?” Adam had asked. He didn’t think Max was here to borrow his Transformers collection this time (Optimus Prime had never been the same since Max had got his hands on him as a child), but you could never be too sure. His friend certainly had that old I’m going to go after what I want and get it gleam in his eye.
“To take you away from a life of daytime TV,” Max had said, with a theatrical shudder. “You’ll be watching Loose Women before you know it. We may as well just shoot you now.”
“I quite like Loose Women,” Adam had protested, but his friend wasn’t listening. Instead Max had reached into his beautiful grey cashmere coat – which had probably been selected by some adoring woman to match the colour of his eyes – and pulled out a sheaf of papers and photographs that he’d spread across the table.
Plans. Of course. Max was on another project. In the years since Max had first started running the company, Reynards had changed beyond all recognition: it was no longer the small family building firm of their fathers’ time, but instead was one of the UK’s foremost developers. From warehouses to stately homes, Max was developing pretty much everything – and very successfully too, if The Sunday Times Rich List was to be believed. What now? Intrigued in spite of himself, Adam had leaned forward to have a look.
“What do you think, Windy?” Max had asked.
Adam was still looking. The photographs showed a castle on an island; it was set in a pretty bay, across from a town full of ice-cream-coloured houses. The steep valley, clear seawater and granite rocks suggested this was in the West Country, and the beauty of the place took his breath away. Next to the glossy photographs were a series of plans, neatly drawn up by the leading firm of architects Reynards favoured.
“I think it’s bloody amazing, Mangey,” Adam had replied, slipping just as easily back into the old nicknames. Windy Miller and Mangey Reynard might be men in their thirties now, but deep down inside every adult male is still a schoolboy, be he a master stonemason or a multimillionaire businessman. “You’ve bought a castle. Crikey. I was pleased to buy this place! I take it this is your next project?”
Max had nodded. “I haven’t technically bought the property yet but it’s pretty much in the bag. We should be moving on it sometime in the not too distant future. I’ll be sending two teams down to Cornwall to join the one already in St Pirran.”
“If you haven’t purchased it, isn’t it a bit premature to draw up the plans and get a workforce mobilised?” Adam had asked with a frown.
This wasn’t like his friend. Usually in business, and matters of the heart, Max was cautious to the point of icy coldness. The sparkle in his eyes and the excitement in his voice were both unusual. Adam realised that Max was head over heels in love with the place.
“The owner’s elderly and very unwell,” Max had said, smoothing the plans with his forefinger, almost as though he was caressing the castle’s walls. “His nephew, an old school alumni of mine, is going to inherit and has already decided to sell. Christ! That sounds really callous. I don’t wish the old boy any harm but according to my old school friend it’s only a matter of time and as you can imagine every developer in the country will be circling. If it’s my company that buys the place at least any work on it will be done sympathetically. That’s respectful to him, don’t you think?”
Adam had nodded then peered closer at one of the pictures. “The place looks like it’s gone to rack and ruin, fam. The walls are in a really bad way and the masonry on the arch is about to go. I take it the place is listed?”
“Grade one,” Max had said, “which is where you come in.”
“Me?”
His friend had fixed him with a determined stare. “This is the project of a lifetime, Ad. I’m staking everything on making this development the jewel in the company’s crown. It needs the best of everything. I’m going to restore it and I need to put together a really skilled team. I want you to come and work with me as Project Manager. We talking at least three years’ worth of work here, possibly more. Can you imagine having free rein to work on something like this? To really show what you can do and leave a legacy for generations?”
Adam could, and for the first time in ages he’d felt a flicker of excitement. Max knew him so well; this was exactly the kind of project he’d always dreamed of. It was a chance to draw upon all his skills, hone his creativity and pay homage to the work of men who were long dust. Just imagining what he could do with this place was making his pulse race.
“I’ll pay you double whatever your usual rates are,” Max had added. “What do you say?”
Adam had smiled. “I’d say I’m flattered and very tempted, but I think the commute would kill me.”
“That’s the whole point. You’d have to move there and stay for at least the next three years. It’s the new start that you and Josh need.” Max had glanced around the kitchen and then said gently, “Mate, I know you miss Elly and it must be bloody awful for you and Josh – I can’t even imagine how awful – but isn’t it time to move on?”
Adam had shaken his head. “I can’t uproot Josh. This house is his stability.”
“You’re his stability,” Max had corrected. “You’ll always be that, but maybe it’s time to make life a bit different now? You’ve done a brilliant job of carrying on just like before – but it’s never going to be like before, no matter how hard you try, is it? Not in the only way that matters.”
He was right, of course. Adam knew that. He and Josh were doing all right, on the surface at least, and most days they got by – but it wasn’t always easy when there were memories everywhere. What if this was the opportunity he’d been needing? A chance to make a new kind of life for him and his son? One where he’d be working locally and not having to rely on an endless stream of blank-faced au pairs or put-upon neighbours? Cornwall was full of fresh air and beaches; it would be much better for Josh than being cooped up in London. It would be a new start for them and one that he was sure Elly would have been up for. She’d have been opening the laptop and booting up the webpages of Rightmove before Max had even finished rolling up the plans; by dinnertime she’d have been experimenting with pasties and listening to the Island Suite as she chopped and fried and made her usual mess in the kitchen.
It made sense. He’d be able to give Josh the time he deserved. Besides, if he was honest Adam was tired of travelling across the continent, living out of suitcases and eating alone. It wasn’t practical for him to do that now anyway. The idea of working on a castle appealed to him too; it was a once-in-a-lifetime project. Like Max said, it was a chance to really show what he was capable of and to leave a lasting legacy. Adam didn’t live for his job, exactly, but since losing Elly he was finding that working stone brought him a level of comfort that talking to counsellors didn’t offer. This project filled him with excitement – and it would be no bad thing to have secure employment for a
few years, either.
Cornwall would be perfect. Adam and Elly had holidayed there many times and had loved the bright scoured light, the space and the sense of freedom. They’d rented cottages in picturesque villages, drunk cider in waterside pubs and gorged on delicious pasties, and all Adam’s memories of the place were sun-drenched and happy. There was a different pace of life in that part of the country, and the people there seemed friendlier. Children played outside rather than hunching over their Xboxes, and everyone had the healthy glow that came with fresh air and outdoor living. Maybe Josh could have a dog and learn to sail as well? It could be just what they needed.
Adam hadn’t rushed the decision. After all, everyone told him that stability was what Josh needed the most. On the other hand, Adam had started to feel that a change could be good for them both. It wasn’t that he wanted to forget Elly or start again – she would be in his heart forever and Adam knew he’d miss her every day for the rest of his life – but maybe it was time to begin a new chapter? She would have been the first person to tell him to go for it; nothing would have saddened or angered her more than to see him still in a state of inertia nearly two years on. Elly had lived every minute to the full, even when she’d been desperately sick, and Adam knew he owed it to her to do the same.
He’d done the sums and found that Max was right: the move to St Pirran made perfect sense. He and Elly had bought their flat when prices had been comparatively low. Now that Hoxton was trendy he could sell it for a sum that would buy him and Josh the perfect family home in Cornwall.
Although it had still hurt that Elly wasn’t there to help view cottages or share in the excitement, Adam and Josh had enjoyed some fun weekends away exploring St Pirran. Eventually they’d chosen the tiny converted net loft that was now their home.
The gargoyle was complete and Adam stepped back to assess his work. There wasn’t much to show for all those hours of effort, but being slow and patient was the essence of his craft. The same approach had been applied to the new house, so that the tired, unloved holiday cottage he’d bought had gradually been transformed into a warm and welcoming home. Adam had stripped away the layers of paint from the walls and beams, peeled up the carpets to reveal oak floors and worked late into the night to make the wood gleam again. He particularly liked the big windows that overlooked the bay; on sunny days the light gushed through them, and on stormy ones you could curl up on the oversized leather sofa and watch the waves race in. Josh had a bedroom high in the eaves, which he loved. The house wasn’t the only good thing about their new life though: they owned a boat as well, and weekends were now spent on the beach or sailing across the bay. Everything seemed to have fallen into place. Josh seemed happy too, although he was still far quieter these days than he’d been before Elly’s death. At least he was out playing with some of the local kids this afternoon and making friends while Adam put in some extra time on the church conversion. So much for life in Cornwall being slower paced. He’d never worked so hard.
Adam lifted the stonework and carried it to the far side of the workshop, carefully placing it with the gargoyles he’d already restored. Only four more to go, he thought wryly. If Max thought that Pirran Castle’s restoration was going to be complete within three years then he was in for a nasty shock. Adam had visited the island several times since he’d arrived in the town, and to his expert eye it was apparent that the place was in need of serious work. One part was almost too far gone to restore and would require a team of specialists to rebuild it, and the rest hadn’t been touched for years. It would be a challenge, that was for sure.
As he put his tools away the text-message alert on his phone sounded.
the lady who owns the castle says I can come and play the piano now. Can I? plz?
The lady who owned the castle? Adam frowned. What lady? Armand Penwellyn had been dead a short while – but hadn’t Max said that his old school friend was inheriting? Or was there truth in the pub rumours after all?
He sent a quick text back asking his son who exactly this lady was, and within seconds he received a picture message in response. The subject of the picture clearly didn’t know she was being captured for digital posterity; instead she was intent on devouring a 99, an expression of utter bliss on her face and oblivious to her blonde hair blowing into the ice cream. Adam recognised her at once. She was the woman he’d chatted to outside the dress shop – the one who’d been gazing at the spotty dress as hungrily as she was now eating her ice cream.
She’s called Lucy and Merryn will give me a lift on a boat and it’s a grand piano plz?
Adam’s heart lifted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his son sound so enthusiastic. He wasn’t sure whether Josh was excited about the music or just the idea of having a ride on Guardian Angel. Josh hadn’t played the piano since Elly had died. It was a shame because – as everyone who knew anything about music agreed – he was gifted. He took after his mum in that respect, whereas Adam was tone deaf. Josh and Elly had played duets together and she’d often said that her son’s talents would way exceed her own. Had Josh stopped enjoying the piano because playing it was too painful without his mum? He’d certainly been adamant when they’d left London that there was no point in bringing a piano to such a tiny house. Now, as he reread the text message, Adam was heartened that Josh wanted to play again. It had to be a good sign.
Adam had heard of Lucy Penwellyn. She was well known in the town and, unlike her brother, everyone spoke most highly of her. Adam knew all about how she’d nursed her father and then her demanding elderly uncle without ever complaining. He also knew that she baked the best cakes in Cornwall. Her tea shop on the island was definitely worth a visit; he’d already enjoyed several cream teas there. Without doubt she inspired loyalty in St Pirran. Even scary Annie Luckett sang her praises, as did the shopkeepers, the fishermen and his friend Merryn Hellier, who lived on the island and had known the family forever. From all he’d heard of Lucy, Adam had been picturing a matronly soul in a pinny – and maybe even a halo too. A kind of saint crossed with a motherly figure, perhaps.
But what he hadn’t been expecting was a curvaceous blonde with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and skin as fair as the clotted cream he’d been spooning onto her scones…
Adam shook his head and then laughed at himself. Skin as fair as cream? He was sounding like one of the pink novels Elly had gobbled up! Still, sometimes only clichés really worked, didn’t they? Lucy had been so surprised when he’d complimented her too, blushing sweetly and unable to look him in the face. He’d meant it though. That dress would have really suited her; she’d have looked like a 1950s film star in it, all curves and smiles. Was he being disloyal to Elly to think like this? Adam hoped not. He might be a widower but he was still able to appreciate women, surely? Nobody would ever replace his wife and he would never want them to – but he wasn’t past it yet.
In any case, now he’d made the link between the dress woman and all the good things he’d heard about Lucy, Adam was more than happy for Josh to go and play the piano at the castle. Merryn, who’d become something of a friend since Adam had moved to the town, could bring him home; Josh always loved a trip in Guardian Angel. Adam would put a couple of pints behind the bar as a thank you, since Merryn always refused to accept money.
Fine! he texted back. Have fun. I’ll ask Merryn to pick you up at half six. xDx
He knew that his son would roll his eyes at the punctuation and kisses, but so far as Adam was concerned it was all part of his job as a dad to be embarrassing.
When the message had been sent, Adam checked his watch. For once he found himself with a free hour to spare after work. Maybe Max was around for a drink? He didn’t often socialise in the town but it was high time they caught up. Besides, Adam was starting to feel a little uneasy. Having moved his entire life and his child lock, stock and barrel to St Pirran for the express purpose of working on the castle project, he wanted to make sure it was still going ahead. The town had been rife with
rumours since Armand Penwellyn had died, but nobody seemed to know for certain what was happening. Adam generally kept himself to himself and didn’t listen to gossip, but if anyone did know the truth then it would be Max Reynard.
As he scrolled through his contacts, Adam hoped that his best friend wasn’t about to come unstuck with this project and fail for the first time in his hugely successful life. Max had seemed so convinced he’d be buying the castle that Adam had also believed it was a done deal. It was only when the stonemason had been in the town for a while that he’d learned that this business transaction wasn’t quite as straightforward as he’d been led to think.
Reynards had to buy Pirran Island. Everything Adam held dear was depending on it. He was being paranoid, Adam told himself firmly. Max always won and nobody would get in the way of this development, not even somebody as sweet and as gentle as Lucy Penwellyn.
Adam pressed the call button and waited for Max to answer. It was time he found out exactly what was going on.
Chapter 12
Ness had collected her bag and checked out of the hotel, and was on her way back to the castle. Her head was still spinning. This had to be one of the strangest days of her life.
She owned a castle. How crazy was that? There was no longer any doubt about it; David Brown had completed the legalities and she’d seen for herself just what an undertaking this was going to be. Jamie was furious but at least he had the private income. How Ness was going to make the island pay now was her first problem. Sweet as Lucy was, Ness didn’t think selling scones was going to do it.
What skills do I have that might be useful? Ness asked herself as she shouldered her bag and walked towards the queue for the boats – the tide having well and truly swept over the causeway now. Life with Addy had made her independent and resourceful; she’d needed these qualities in order to survive when he’d vanished on painting binges and only emerged, paint-speckled and dazed, several days later. Running the hotel in St Antonia had honed Ness’s people skills too, although these seemed to be failing quite spectacularly today. Indeed, today it appeared that Ness Penwellyn was about as popular in St Pirran as the dive-bombing gulls.
The Island Legacy Page 14
