by Nancy Barone
‘And what exactly are you doing in Wyllow Cove, Connor?’ she asked as we gathered around the table for breakfast.
He ignored her tone and smiled. ‘I needed a break – somewhere quiet. I have a friend in Little Kettering who told me about Wyllow Cove, and I have to say it’s even more beautiful than I’d hoped.’
‘Have you got any family?’ Sarah persisted as she tore off a piece of toast.
‘Yes, loads. They live on a farm just outside Dublin.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Sarah…’ I said, mortified.
He wiped his mouth and smiled. ‘Divorced.’
‘Kids?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I hope you like them anyway,’ she said, relish on her pretty face as a horrible crash ripped through the house. Connor looked up towards the ceiling, clearly wondering whether the roof was caving in and I wanted to warn him, but then the twins came in, looking so pretty in their pink pyjamas and housecoats that you’d forgive them anything.
‘And who are you?’ Amy demanded of Connor in perfect Sarah style, hands on hips.
Zoe simply stared at him, wide-eyed. I was sure even she could tell he was an absolute dish. I had my first crush when I was six, but maybe I was just precocious.
‘Amy, Zoe, this is Connor, our new lodger,’ I said, urging them to the table to say hello.
‘What’s a lodger?’ Amy asked. ‘Is that like a boyfriend? Auntie Nat, you’ve only been divorced since Christmas.’
Connor grinned as he put his coffee cup down.
‘Of course he’s not Auntie Nat’s boyfriend, Amy,’ Sarah answered. ‘He’s much too young.’
Turning beetroot red, I rolled my eyes at him while Amy plunked herself down to her breakfast, whereas Zoe plucked up the courage to go and stand next to him, her eyes huge as she looked up into his face.
‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he said softly as he bent down to her.
But Zoe just continued to look at him in silence.
‘Connor, these are my nieces, Amy and Zoe. Girls – say hello to Connor.’
Amy peered up at his face, whereas Zoe remained silent. I gave her a gentle nudge.
‘Come on, darling, say hello to Connor.’
‘Hello, Connor,’ Zoe whispered.
‘Hello, Zoe. It’s very nice to meet you. Hello, Amy.’
‘Hi,’ Amy said back, amiably enough.
‘Connor will be living with us,’ I informed them, wondering how that sounded to a new pair of ears.
‘Then he really is your boyfriend,’ Amy said, her eyes flicking over him analytically.
‘Amy…’
‘I’m just a friend,’ he answered politely.
‘So are you staying here for free?’ Amy continued and I slapped my hand over my forehead, forgetting my bruise.
‘Amy – please don’t be rude,’ I scolded and mouthed to Connor, I’m so sorry, but he winked at me. Winked at me. Innocently, without any sexual subtext whatsoever. So why did my skin tingle?
Zoe was still staring at him and when he turned to smile at her again, she said, ‘You look like Poldark. My nana loves Poldark. So does Auntie Nat.’
Connor threw his head back and laughed while Zoe climbed onto his lap and settled herself against his chest like a three-year-old, and, after a moment’s surprise from all of us and an uncertain glance my way, Connor’s hand rested on her little back.
I wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t be so immediately trusting, and that the world was full of horrible people, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it and break this instant idyll. It was like love at first sight – between them – and I didn’t want to ruin it. Perhaps Zoe was the extension of me. I, too, would have loved to be able to trust a stranger – or any man, for that matter, but that ship had sailed for me a long time ago. I also wouldn’t have minded sitting in his lap, either, but those privileges were reserved for people with nothing to lose.
If my husband Neil could up and leave me with no warning, and if Sam could gamble his relationship away and cheat on Sarah, what hope was there for me to ever start anew? No. All I wanted was to live my own life, away from the people who had hurt me, and Neil was in the top two.
‘Zoe, darling, come sit here and let Connor eat his breakfast,’ I cooed, and she obediently slid off his lap and into the chair next to me.
‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind at all. On the contrary. I have tons of nieces and nephews and I enjoy being around them.’
‘That’d because they’re your own blood. Give these two some time and you’ll be running for the hills,’ Sarah said, nodding at the twins who giggled.
‘Sarah and the girls are going to be staying with us for a bit,’ I explained to Connor as Amy started on her apple juice, not taking her eyes off him. Zoe was still watching him too, her eyes still wide in wonder. The kid had excellent taste.
‘Ah, we’ll have loads of fun, then,’ he answered as the toaster popped up and he stretched a long arm to put the slices before us.
I lowered my head to kiss Zoe’s forehead. ‘Amy, would you like some toast with that juice?’ I said, and she pulled out a chair right opposite Connor, suddenly interested in him now.
‘Your name doesn’t start with an N,’ Zoe said.
Connor’s eyebrows went up in confusion and he looked at me for help as I slapped my forehead again, this time avoiding the bruised spot.
‘Oh,’ I laughed nervously. ‘It’s just a family joke.’
‘Sarah has Sam,’ Zoe began to explain.
‘Had. Not anymore,’ Amy corrected her and Sarah groaned.
‘Lizzie has Liam…’ Zoe continued.
‘Zoe, sweetie—’
‘Auntie Nat had Neil, but he doesn’t live here anymore.’
‘Honey—’
‘So you can’t take his place unless your name stars with an N.’
At that, Connor fought to not snort coffee through his nose and fixed a benevolent eye on them. ‘Can I keep my name even if I’m only going to live here for a little while?’
Sarah murmured something and shot to her feet, throwing the dishes into the dishwasher and then, wrapping her housecoat around her even tighter, charged out of the kitchen without another word.
‘I’m finished, Auntie Nat. Can I get up from the table?’ Zoe asked and Amy rolled her eyes.
‘Of course, darling. Amy, have you got anything to say?’
‘Same for me. Can I go?’
We played this game every meal time, and it was taking me longer than I’d hoped, but I was gradually managing to crack Amy and drum some manners into her.
‘Yes, you may both go. But let’s leave Sarah alone for a bit, okay?’
‘Oh-kay,’ Amy said, stomping her way out, followed by a light-footed Zoe.
I watched them go and then turned to Connor. ‘I’m sorry about all that. They’re normally good girls.’
‘Nat,’ he said. ‘It’s fine. I have two brothers and three sisters, and they all have kids under fifteen. I’m happy to be here. And your nieces remind me of my own. Marian and Emilia are like photocopies of yours. Amy and Zoe are adorable.’
‘Thank you. They are, each in their own way.’
We sat in silence for a few moments. But it was a comfortable silence, with layers of common ground between us. We did have a lot in common, I was beginning to discover. Family was paramount to both of us. We were both divorced and starting over.
But while I was considering him as the perfect candidate for a fling, obviously the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Why would it, with plenty of beautiful girls around? I was the landlady. Possibly a potential friend. But nothing more.
‘I think Sarah will be the tough one to crack. She is very protective of you,’ he observed neutrally.
‘I’m sorry about her being so tetchy. She’s just broken up with her boyfriend.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ he said sympathetically. ‘But I can totally understand why she would come back here. I don�
��t know what it is, but there’s something about your home that is so welcoming.’
I shrugged. ‘It used to be, when we all lived here together, even with all the creepy portraits of Neil’s family frowning down at us. But now that I’m downsizing, I think I’ll be leaving a few of the family ghosts behind.’
‘And some of your own?’
I looked up.
‘I think that your new home, wherever that may be, will be a happier one without all the memories of what led you to the divorce. I know it was like that for me.’
‘Well, you’ve got that right. My whole life would be made if I could move away from here and all the bad memories.’
‘Ah, but you’ll take the good ones with you in your heart. Am I not right?’
His voice softened as he said this, as if for a brief moment he’d had an insight as to what it had been like, living with Neil. Which, of course, he did, due to his own divorce. I guess sharing the same kind of pain made people more empathic.
‘You’re right,’ I agreed, and there was another moment of silence as he watched me and I understood that he was silently, and perhaps even unconsciously, acknowledging the fact that we were both in that place where we were slowly but surely recovering from our darker moments.
‘But I’m sure you’re not interested in family drama,’ I tittered, my eyes darting away as I spoke.
He grinned. ‘I come from an Irish family, Natalia. Drama is in my DNA.’
‘Ah. Well, in that case, you’ll fit right in.’
He leaned in. ‘And for the record, Nat – I think your home has this feeling because of all your love for your family.’
‘You really think so?’
He spread his arms. ‘Look around you. You are the glue of this family. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them.’
‘True. But I do hope they won’t be too much of a nuisance to you.’
‘Ah, really, Nat, you’re grand. Unless things are now different for you? If this is a time when you need to be alone with them, I can always find somewhere else, no problem at all.’
‘What? No, no, don’t even think that, Connor. We’ll be absolutely fine. The house won’t be up for sale for another few months so if you’re still okay with a short lease…’
‘Absolutely. I won’t go until you ask me to.’
‘Oh good,’ I breathed, and the warmth inside me returned. ‘Not that I’ve even contacted an agent as of yet. And I’m still packing up Neil’s stuff. He lives with his girlfriend in a tiny flat so he’s going to have to put it all into storage. Sorry, too much information. I’m just an open book, unfortunately.’
He smiled, toasting me with his coffee mug. ‘A lovely book.’
Now how was that as far as Irish charm went?
*
The rest of our day was spent in the garden with the girls horsing around with Missy who loved all the attention while Sarah ploughed through my back issues of Good Housekeeping and of course, Lady. I pretended to be working by having my faithful notepad to jot down my thoughts in the very rare event of an idea. All this in conjunction with surreptitiously watching Connor at the end of the garden sorting out his tools in order to start on my broken fences.
See? Any other lodger wouldn’t have agreed to do that for free now, would he? But, elated sigh, he wasn’t just any other lodger, and I remembered the scene in the movie Hattie, where she is sitting in the garden, drooling while her new lodger, John Schofield, is flexing his muscles and flirting with no shirt on. I only hope we wouldn’t end up the same way, i.e. him leaving her for someone else.
Connor was helpful but unobtrusive. Fun but not overbearing. But, also, apart from noticing how perfectly he fit into our routine, I couldn’t help but notice how perfectly he fit into his jeans. Gorgeous but didn’t know it. And I couldn’t help but admire his arms as they flexed when he lifted a post. But when he got down onto his knees to inspect the base of the fence, I looked away, wondering if here were any tenant-lodger rules.
‘You can look again, Mum,’ Sara said hotly. ‘He hasn’t got plumber’s bum, by the way.’
Busted. I lifted my eyes to her gotcha look. Christ, what was so wrong about having eyes? I was divorced and still under forty. Didn’t I have a right to admire male beauty?
‘Hm…?’ I said distractedly, scanning my empty page while chewing on my pen.
‘Don’t hm me, Mum. I can see you, you know.’
I was determined to stick this one out. ‘What’s that, sweetheart?’
Her eyes narrowed and then, with her index finger, she drew a circle before my face. ‘You’ve got a look – the look of… Didn’t you say after Dad that you would never be interested in men again?’
‘Did I?’ Bugger it.
‘Yes, so you can stop swooning over Mr Bod over there.’
‘Nonsense. I’m not swooning over anyone. And keep your voice down, please.’
She snorted, returning to her magazine, muttering something about forty being the new twenty, but only as far as foolishness was concerned.
‘And what about you?’ I asked. ‘Are you slowly healing?’
Sarah chewed on her lower lip, a habit she’d inherited from me, and I could see the hurt on her face, but also the fire in her eyes and the determination to downplay it and recover as quickly as possible.
‘There isn’t much to heal from,’ she said with a shrug, putting her magazine down. ‘I thought that Sam was something that he’s not. I’d put up with a lot from him even as I knew we were slowly fizzling into nothingness, and then he broke the last straw. I had to leave for my own sanity, Mum.’
I nodded. ‘I know, darling, and you did the right thing, if I may say so now.’
*
The next Sunday morning was hot and sunny, and I couldn’t wait to get out and about. Over the years, when Yolanda was away, the twins and I had developed our own Sunday morning routine. Neil would stay home and read the papers while the three of us would put together a picnic basket, slather ourselves in sunblock in the summer or cover up in woollies and wellies in the winter and head down the footpath to the beach where we’d do some rock pooling, followed by seal watching and some good old sandwich and sand munching.
They loved it down there, always finding something new to do, people to talk to (well, Amy, especially) and dogs to play with. After lunch, we’d go for a long stroll along the harbour front for ice cream and a chat with the fellow villagers who also enjoyed the afternoon sunshine on their faces while indulging themselves in a pint at The One That Got Away, the local pub on the fishing pier.
It was always lovely to see everyone away from their workplaces at least one day a week. They were all there. Dora, who owned The Rising Bun bakery, would ditch her apron for the afternoon while one of her daughters, usually Felicity, dealt with customers vying for that last slice of luscious, yet tangy lemon drizzle or that rich yet delicate carrot cake that only Dora could bake.
And Jim, the owner of the pub, who carried barrels up and down from the cellar with such speed as if the place was on fire, was simply lying out on the quay, arms outstretched like the Vitruvian man, without a care in the world.
Myrtle and Richard, the silver-haired couple who ran the post office/greengrocers named Fresh Lettuce ’N’ Letters and who had been married for forty years now, were ambling along the beach, too, hand in hand like two sixth-form sweethearts.
‘It’s so lovely to see you with the girls, Nat,’ Myrtle said, bending towards them without letting go of Richard’s hand.
‘It’s lovely to see you, too, Myrtle. How’s the old hip?’
She waved my concerns away. ‘Bah, still attached to the rest of me, so it’s okay! Yolanda away again?’
‘Yeah,’ I said as the girls skipped off to chase the seagulls. I watched as Zoe generously offered most of her sandwich up, which was why I always made her two, while Amy threw rocks at the feathered predators, not always, unfortunately, missing her targets.
‘You’re so good with them, j
ust like you were with your own girls,’ Richard commented.
‘Thanks, Richard.’
‘I suspect we’ll be seeing more of you now that Neil’s moved out?’ Myrtle said.
I couldn’t help but smile. ‘Absolutely. And… I’m looking to buy in the village.’
‘Good! There’s a couple of cottages for sale on the far side of the quay, I think.’
‘Oh? I’ll definitely go and have a look, then. Thanks.’
Myrtle patted my cheek. ‘It’s good to have you back, Nat. That man was no good for you. It’s time to get yourself one who actually likes people. When Richard sprained his ankle, Neil barely looked at it, let alone touched it.’
Pretty much how he’d treated our marriage, I thought to myself.
Neil did not like me mingling too much, as if I had suddenly become better than everyone else simply because my married surname was a double-barrelled one. The idiocy of it all. But being a doctor’s wife kept me socially busy, hosting dinners and parties for his Truro colleagues, all the while pining for my people instead. And now that I was free, I wanted to move down back into the village near my friends, where I belonged.
For a hamlet of circa one hundred inhabitants, Wyllow Cove was Cornwall’s best-kept secret, as the tourist industry hadn’t sussed us out yet. Which suited us all fine. Not that we weren’t welcoming. Of course we were, but the idea of being so tight-knit and knowing everyone since birth was heart-warming and reassuring.
While all the youngsters, like my own, had fled to Truro or gone the whole hog to London, you needed a reason to come to Wyllow Cove as it wasn’t on the road to anywhere else. Which made me wonder why a certain handsome Irishman had chosen our little hamlet to live.
Yes, there was a core of young families that refused to go as they had the luxury of working from home, but what exactly was he doing here, in such an out-of-the-way place? Was he still nursing a broken heart?
He had mentioned he needed peace and quiet. But you could find that in most of the villages in Cornwall. So why Wyllow Cove?
In the old days, when I was still married to Neil, he never wanted to come down to the beach, so I always brought the girls with me. After an afternoon out and about chatting and laughing and just soaking in the relaxed atmosphere, the twins and I would say our goodbyes with a promise to have another lengthy chinwag the following Sunday, and scarper back up the footpath, picnic basket and all, exhausted and tanned and happy.
