by Liz Eeles
Rosie stared at him as he turned the pages, willing him to say it was not worth the paper it was written on; that of course the house had belonged to her mum all along, and Charles Epping was merely trying his luck. But Jackson sucked in air through his teeth as he read on and whistled softly when he got to the end of the document.
‘Well, well.’ He sat back in his creaky leather chair and folded his arms. ‘That appears rather cut and dried, I’m afraid. Sofia was a tenant at Driftwood House and the tenancy reverts to the owner, the Epping family, at the time of her death. You haven’t lived in the house for some time, I believe?’
‘Not for a few years.’
‘Hmm. And I’m assuming that Sofia didn’t leave a will.’
‘Not as far as I’m aware. She wasn’t a will-making kind of person, really.’
‘Hardly surprising. Those of us sliding into middle-age rarely feel compelled to set our affairs in order. We can’t quite believe in our own mortality.’
‘Mum was always optimistic and full of hope. She’d never have believed that she might…’
‘No, of course not. But are you quite sure that there’s no will or other paperwork about this arrangement?’
‘I haven’t come across a will and I’m sure she’d have mentioned making one, although…’
Rosie trailed off. She was equally sure that her mother would have mentioned, at some point over the last twenty-nine years, that their house belonged to someone else, but she never had.
Jackson sniffed. ‘We could question this lease but, knowing what I do about Charles Epping and his family, I have to warn you that it would be expensive, and with next to no chance of success. Though it wouldn’t do any harm to scour Driftwood House for any other relevant paperwork your mother might have left.’ He breathed out slowly through pursed lips. ‘So Charles Epping is the legal owner of Driftwood House. Whoever’d have thought it?’
Not me. Rosie screwed her tissue into a ball and pushed it into her pocket. ‘If you were friends, I’m surprised Mum never mentioned anything about it.’
‘She never said a dicky bird. But I left Heaven’s Cove rather abruptly shortly before she moved into Driftwood House and married your father.’ Jackson shifted in his chair, the leather creaking. ‘So what about you, Miss Merchant?’
‘Please call me Rosie.’
Jackson smiled. ‘Rosie, then. What are your plans?’
‘I don’t know. First of all, there’s the funeral to finalise.’ Rosie closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself. ‘And then I’ll go back to Spain. I’ve been living abroad for some time.’
‘So I understand. I’ve always loved travelling and have taken quite an interest in your adventures since becoming reacquainted with your mother. You’re living near Málaga, I believe.’
‘That’s right. I work part-time for a property agency and the rest of the time for a B&B near the beach.’
‘Marvellous. Which job do you prefer?’
‘The B&B, definitely. I’ve met all kinds of people through it and I enjoy helping them to have a brilliant holiday. It’s hot work when you’re changing beds at the height of summer, but it’s fun.’
‘I visited the area a few years ago and thought it was beautiful, but I almost melted in the heat.’
Rosie winced, imagining the relentless sun on Jackson’s florid skin. ‘A lot of visitors find the heat quite draining.’
‘Well, I almost fried.’ When he grinned, dimples appeared in his cheeks and he looked like a cheeky little boy, in spite of his unruly thatch of grey hair. His grin disappeared as he walked round from behind his desk and took hold of Rosie’s hand. ‘But now is not the time for levity. If there’s anything I can do to help while you’re here, please don’t hesitate to contact me.’
‘Thank you. You’ve been very kind,’ said Rosie, getting to her feet and smoothing down her lemon linen dress that was far too thin for the Devon climate.
‘Not at all. I’m keen to help in any way that I can. Just give me a call.’ He fished in the pocket of his suit jacket hanging on a wooden coat rack and handed over a business card. Then he stared into Rosie’s eyes so intently, she began to feel uncomfortable. ‘Your mother was very dear to me, Rosie.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’ Rosie looked away and swung her bag onto her shoulder. ‘I’d better leave you to get on with your work.’
‘Of course.’ Jackson strode to the door and opened it wide. ‘I hope to see you again soon.’
The receptionist didn’t glance up from her computer when Rosie walked past her and out into the fresh air. Jackson had been nothing but kind from the moment she’d entered his office, but Rosie felt smothered and couldn’t wait to escape.
Some fresh sea air would clear her head. Rosie started wandering down to the quay and soon spotted a group of people sitting at a table outside Becker’s Bakery. She winced when she recognised Belinda and Liam: the two of them together was not only an unlikely pairing, it was also a worrying combination. Liam had read the letter from Epping’s solicitor so knew all about the house’s ownership, and Belinda would love to be in the loop so she could tell the world and his wife. It was too late to veer into a side street without it being totally obvious so Rosie kept on walking, with her head held high.
The two of them, sitting next to a man she recognised from school, glanced up from their coffees and pastries and watched while she approached. It was very much like walking into a party while the in-crowd viewed you with curious disdain, thought Rosie, as Belinda folded her arms across her ample bosom. But there was nothing for it but to brave out the next few minutes.
CHAPTER 6
Rosie was nervous, thought Liam, watching her stride towards them. She was trying hard to hide it and doing a pretty good job, but the tight set of her jaw gave her away.
A year ago, he’d never have noticed it. Before Deanna, he’d been far too busy with his charmed, carefree life to pick up on subtle body language. Then he’d been too absorbed in planning a life with the one woman to finally win his heart. But when it all went horribly pear-shaped, smashing his heart, his eyes had been opened to other people’s pain.
He didn’t like it. Recognising sorrow or fear in the set of a mouth or the tilt of a head was draining and he sometimes longed to be the oblivious man he once was. His friends were expecting him to bounce back and be the Liam of old, and he’d tried. He really had. But he couldn’t escape the fact that he’d changed.
Alex nudged him hard in the ribs. ‘Is that Weirdo Rosie walking towards us? Bloody hell, she’s improved. I wouldn’t have touched her with a barge pole a few years back but now… what d’ya reckon?’
Liam winced at the cruel nickname some of the boys had used for Rosie at school. He reckoned she was looking much better than the last time he’d seen her, though her eyes were still smudged underneath with dark shadows.
‘I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,’ he laughed, because that was what Alex expected him to say. Although the truth was that no one had shared his bed for a long time.
‘For goodness’ sake, have some decorum,’ hissed Belinda, who’d shamelessly gatecrashed his coffee with Alex, intent on talking to them both about the monthly village market. She’d just taken over as head of the market’s organising team – the woman had a power complex – and was champing at the bit to make changes.
‘Sorry, Mrs Kellscroft,’ said Alex, contritely, rolling his eyes at Liam, who pretended not to notice.
‘Good morning, Rosie, my dear,’ boomed Belinda, looking her over from head to toe. Rosie gave a self-conscious smile and tucked her fair, shoulder-length hair behind her ears. ‘How are you managing up there in that lonely house? It must be utterly dreadful being there on your own with only the memory of your poor mother for company.’
Liam winced. It was a good job Belinda had never decided on counselling as a vocation. But Rosie replied, calmly, ‘I’m managing, thank you.’
She was shivering in her pretty dress and cardigan and Liam
had a sudden urge to take off his jacket and drape it around her shoulders. But she wouldn’t want that, and Alex would totally take the mick. Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen was his friend’s mantra, and he didn’t even say it ironically. Had Liam ever been so crass? He rather feared he had been, before Deanna brought him down a peg or two.
He glanced past Rosie to the top of the church tower, just visible above the tall beech trees that lined Bakehouse Lane. It would soon be exactly a year to the day since Deanna had left him in such a public fashion, a fact that had been disrupting his sleep as much as Charles Epping’s latest rent rise. He hoped that no one in Heaven’s Cove was aware of the upcoming anniversary so it could pass unnoticed. But people around here had long memories, and Belinda especially appeared to possess a photographic recall of local tragedy and humiliation.
When he sighed, Rosie glanced at him but she’d looked away before he could rearrange his features into a smile.
‘We’re having a meeting to see if these two young men would like to help organise Heaven’s Cove Market in the future,’ said Belinda, which was news to Liam.
‘I fear we’re about to be press-ganged,’ said Alex, treating Rosie to his best flirtatious smile. Though he’d probably agree to Belinda’s request in a flash, realised Liam, because Coral was also a part of the organising team. Coral, mid-fifties, stout and married, wasn’t Alex’s type. But her daughter, Ella, most definitely was.
‘We’ve got so many plans,’ said Belinda, ‘For a start, we’re going to rebrand the market and I’ve asked Charles Epping and his wife to perform a grand re-opening ceremony – cut a ribbon or something. Though I don’t suppose they will, even though they owe a great deal to Heaven’s Cove. A good number of people here have paid them rent over the years, including your own mother, it seems, Rosie.’
‘That’s right,’ said Rosie, levelly. Liam hoped that only he noticed the tell-tale tightening of her jaw muscles.
‘We all assumed that Driftwood House belonged to your mother.’
‘Well, now you know it doesn’t.’
Rosie gave Liam a hard stare. She obviously suspected him of gossiping about her business, as though he didn’t have more important things to keep him occupied these days. When Liam glared back, annoyed at being cast as the villain for no good reason, she held his gaze for a moment before looking towards the sea.
Belinda shook her head. ‘I must admit it came as quite a shock to find out the truth.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Rosie bit her lower lip as though the words had tumbled out without her permission.
‘You did know that the Epping family owned Driftwood House, didn’t you, dear?’ Belinda’s eyes were shining at the prospect of more juicy gossip.
‘Of course I did,’ said Rosie, brightly. ‘Mum told me everything. We were really close.’
She looked again at Liam, but this time her gaze held a plea rather than an accusation. When he gave her a tight nod, her shoulders dropped under her cream cardi. He would keep her secret, even if she thought he’d already partly blabbed.
‘Well, I suppose you were close emotionally, even if rarely geographically,’ said Belinda, with a small laugh.
Pain flickered in Rosie’s big brown eyes and she clasped her arms around her waist, like she was giving herself a hug. ‘It’s good to see you but I’d better be getting on.’
‘Of course, dear. I expect you’ve got a lot to organise, what with moving your mother’s belongings out of Driftwood House, and then there’s the funeral next week. It’s on Wednesday afternoon, I believe.’
‘That’s right, and I’m on my way to see Reverend Hill about that now so I’d better hurry. Good luck with the market.’
Without looking at Liam again, she scurried off, and Belinda’s talk turned back to the market. Even Alex, relishing the chance of getting closer to Ella, was getting bored and they’d just managed to bring the conversation to a close when Alex’s very pointy elbow landed in Liam’s ribs once more.
‘Look who’s gracing us with her presence now. We’re like babe magnets this morning, mate.’
Liam was pretty sure no one referred to themselves as ‘babe magnets’ any more. But he followed Alex’s head tilt and groaned. Katrina Crawley had just come into view and was walking purposefully towards them. She looked magnificent, with her slim hips swinging and her long dark hair streaming behind her.
Any man would be tempted by Katrina. He should be tempted, especially as she’d made it very clear that, in spite of having a long-term boyfriend, she wouldn’t kick him out of bed. And sometimes he did imagine taking her in his arms and kissing that knowing smile from her beautiful face. It would be so much better than the adolescent fumbles they’d shared as seventeen-year-olds. But his imaginings always stopped at the bedroom door these days, as though Deanna had slammed it shut in their faces.
Basically, he’d changed from an over-sexed Jack the Lad into a boring, celibate farmer with few prospects. And Rosie Merchant, once a total nerd, now had an aura of the exotic about her, and must consider him dull, plodding and provincial. What a turnaround.
‘Well, hello there,’ said Katrina in her breathy voice as she reached the small group. ‘How lovely to see you all. Who was that woman you were talking to?’
‘Rosie Merchant,’ said Belinda. ‘She’s finally made it home, just in time for her mother’s funeral.’
‘Poor, poor Rosie. I heard she was back in the village. She was always a strange one.’
Katrina sidled up so close to Liam he could smell the heady floral perfume she was wearing. She sank onto the chair next to him and leaned across the table. ‘So what are you three up to? Anything I can help with?’
‘We’re talking about rebranding the monthly market,’ said Belinda, frowning at Katrina’s cleavage.
‘Rebranding? Heavens, that sounds exciting.’
‘It’s long overdue. You know me. I don’t like to speak ill of people but the organising team has been coasting rather for the last couple of years without proper leadership and the whole thing needs a shake-up. Why don’t you join us, Katrina? You’d be ideal with your marketing experience.’
‘I’d absolutely love to but I’m afraid I just don’t have the time, Belinda. Running my own business is all-consuming. It’s twenty-four-seven with no holidays and I have to force myself to take time out occasionally. Talking of which…’ When she turned to Liam and clasped his arm, a shiver went through him. ‘Are you going to the dance in the village hall next month? It’ll be fun.’
‘I’m going,’ Alex assured her, but when Katrina continued staring into Liam’s eyes, her mouth pulled into a pretty pout, Liam made a decision. He’d be an idiot to pass up on the chance of some fun after the year he’d had.
‘Yeah, I’ll probably be there, depending on how the lambing’s going.’
‘Well, just make sure you are, or I’ll come and hunt you down in your lambing shed. I can stretch out on the hay and keep you company while you’re doing all the work.’
Belinda narrowed her eyes at that but Katrina had already got to her feet and was tugging down the hem of her very short dress. Her legs seemed to go on forever.
‘Take it easy, boys,’ she said, huskily. ‘Bye, Belinda.’
‘You’ve still got it, mate,’ said Alex, sotto voce, as Belinda tutted quietly and started clearing their cups from the table.
‘Did you ever doubt it?’
Liam watched Katrina’s pert figure disappearing into the distance. Only a fool would turn down Katrina and the truth was, he was getting lonely. Once the anniversary was over, maybe it was time to stop mooching about and get his life back on track. His parents would be glad to see him having fun, even though they’d never really approved of his hectic love life pre-Deanna.
‘And I can’t get over how much little mouse Rosie has changed,’ said Alex, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Though she was shooting you daggers. What have you done to upset her? Oh, tell me you didn’t sleep with her years ago and bre
ak her heart.’
‘I didn’t sleep with her and I definitely didn’t break her heart. I’m pretty sure I’m not her type.’ Alex’s smile faltered at Liam’s serious expression. ‘Hard though that is to believe when I’m a total babe magnet,’ he added, for Alex’s benefit.
That did the trick. ‘You and me both,’ said Alex, with a wide grin. ‘Pint in The Smugglers on Saturday before trying out that new night club in town? It’ll do you good.’
Maybe he was right. Liam was tired of being sad, and tired of the anxiety that dogged him. He never used to be a worrier but, these days, he worried about everything: the farm, his mum’s worsening arthritis, his dad’s increasing forgetfulness. But most of all, in the early hours, he worried that Deanna had been his last chance of a meaningful relationship and he would be alone forever.
‘So Saturday. Pub, pint, club?’ tried Alex again.
Liam nodded. ‘Yeah, why not.’
CHAPTER 7
Rosie’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the flowers piled up on her mother’s grave. She’d seen them at the funeral yesterday, but the afternoon had passed in a blur of shaking hands with people she knew and others she didn’t, making small talk afterwards in the pub while people ate chicken mayonnaise sandwiches, and trying not to cry.
Actually, that last bit had been easier than she’d imagined. She’d cried so much since arriving in Heaven’s Cove over a week ago, she didn’t seem to have many tears left. This morning she felt bone dry, as though her soul had been wrung out. Grief had desiccated her even more than the scorching Spanish sun. But the pretty flowers on the dark earth still brought her up short.
She started leafing through the cards attached to the blooms. Gone far too soon but never forgotten – love from the girls at Becker’s Bakery; Rest in peace – Belinda and Jim; Heaven’s Cove’s finest! We’ll miss you, dear Sofia – Fran, Paul and the boys x
