Spring at Lavender Bay

by Sarah Bennett

  ‘I did make a decision, I’m going to sell!’

  ‘That’s not a decision, that’s a copout. You need to stop running away every time the going gets tough.’ His hand settled on her shoulder, his other arm coming around to cradle her from behind. ‘You’ve been through so much these past few months, you have to give yourself time to process it all. I don’t want you to have any regrets, and if you let the emporium go without a fight, I think you’ll regret it every day for the rest of your life.’

  A lump formed in her throat, and tears stung the backs of her eyes. She dashed them away with the back of her hand. She was sick and tired of crying. ‘It’s so hard.’

  Gentle lips brushed her hair. ‘I know. Why don’t you come back with me tomorrow and at least look around the emporium? It might not be as bad as you think.’

  She wished she could believe him, but he was right about one thing. She needed to stop running. Turning in his arms, she placed her hands upon his chest and looked up into his eyes. ‘Okay, but I’m not promising anything. I still need to find a way to pay you back.’

  He looked like he might protest, but in the end he simply nodded, and said, ‘Okay, we’ll talk about that tomorrow as well.’ His hands stroked her back. ‘I’m so proud of you, Beth.’ He murmured the words so sweetly, it was impossible to do anything other than to rise on her tiptoes and capture his lips with her own.

  They broke apart, and Sam rested his forehead against hers. ‘I have one more very important question to ask you.’

  Butterflies exploded in her stomach. He couldn’t possibly mean? Of course not, it was too soon, there was too much still up in the air. Trying to calm her racing thoughts, Beth wet her lips. ’O…okay.’

  ‘Did you order enough takeaway to feed us both?’

  Traffic the next morning was light, and they made good time. Sam kept the conversation light, and she did her best to respond in kind, but each mile that brought her closer to Lavender Bay tightened the nerves building inside her until she feared she might be sick, and she closed her eyes pretending to sleep. The motion of the car slowed, and she forced herself to sit up. Expecting to see the familiar skyline of the bay, she was met instead with a queue of stationary cars blocking all three lanes.

  They crept along for a couple of miles with no clue as to the cause of the delay until they glimpsed the first of many flashing blue lights on the opposite carriageway. An articulated lorry sprawled across the inside two lanes, the wreckage of a bright red sports car wedged partly beneath it. ‘Oh, God.’ Beth turned her head away.

  The lines of Sam’s jaw were clenched. ‘Don’t look. I’ll let you know when we’re clear of it.’ She kept her gaze fixed on the profile of his face until the tightness in his face eased, and he nodded.

  Flopping back in her seat, Beth let out a sigh. ‘It didn’t look good.’

  Sam released one hand from the wheel to grasp her hand. He squeezed her fingers tight, then placed her hand on his thigh before letting go to take hold of the wheel again. Understanding his need for touch, she gripped the solid muscle of his leg. ‘Those poor people.’

  ‘Life’s so short.’ His voice was rough, the tension in his jaw back again. ‘So bloody short. You think you have it all figured out, and then something terrible happens. Eleanor, my dad, whatever poor sod was driving that car.’ His eyes flicked to hers for an instant, and then back on the road ahead. ‘I know I can be pushy sometimes, but I want to live the best life that I can. I want that for both of us.’

  ‘I know. I want that too.’ And she really did, she just hoped she could find a way to address the guilt twisting her up over the emporium. Her grip tightened around Sam’s thigh, and his hand dropped briefly to cover hers. If she had to sell the shop, she didn’t know if she could face staying in Lavender Bay.

  No matter how much she might want to.

  When Sam drew up outside the rear gates of the pub, Beth wound down her window and sucked in a lungful of fresh air. The familiar scent of the sea calmed her enough to accept Sam’s hand as he helped her out of the car.

  They made it as far as the back door of the emporium before she baulked. Sam was having none of it though, and her slight weight was no match for his strength as he picked her up by the waist and carted her inside. He carried her through the shop, before putting her down by the front door, and by then it was too late to keep protesting. Barren shelves and bare walls greeted her, and a wave of sadness rocked her on her heels. ‘There’s nothing left.’

  Sam glanced over his shoulder at the empty room. ‘What? Oh, no, don’t panic. Everything that was salvaged is out in the stock room. It’s pretty cramped in there, thanks to that stupid bloody banana thing, but we can check it out in a minute.’

  It seemed ridiculous in the face of everything, but her heart lifted to know at least something that was uniquely Eleanor still remained. A tap on the glass behind her sent her spinning on her heel. ‘What the…?’

  Libby stood on the other side of the door, her flamingo pink hair spiked up in all directions. She pointed at the handle and mimed opening the door, so Beth undid the bolts, and turned the lock.

  It was only once she stepped outside that Beth noticed the crowd gathered behind her friend. An arm circled her shoulders, and she blinked up. ‘Sam, what is this?’

  ‘Just wait and see,’ he said with a wink. Her eyes left his to scan the group. In addition to Libby, she spotted Annie, and Paul, who was leaning on his walking stick, a broad smile across his face. The Tates from the newsagent, the Major and his wife, Gina and Davey from the kebab shop. So many familiar faces.

  A man dressed in a suit eased to the front of the group, and Beth blinked as she recognised the agent from her insurance company. ‘Ah, there you are Miss Reynolds, Mr Barnes.’

  Sam stepped forward to shake his hand. ‘Thanks for agreeing to do this at short notice.’

  The agent smiled. ‘It’s a little unorthodox, but I deliver enough bad news in my job that it makes a nice change.’

  Completely bemused, Beth looked between the two of them. ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’

  The agent reached for his inside jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope. ‘This is for you, Miss Reynolds. I’d like to apologise for any distress we may have caused you. On re-examining the facts, we reversed our decision and I can confirm your claim will be settled in full.’

  Beth took the envelope when he extended it to her. It was unsealed, and when she opened the flap, her knees turned watery at the sight of the cheque inside it.’

  ‘I…I don’t understand.’

  ‘Ask your friend, there. He’ll explain everything.’ The agent checked his watch. ‘Well, I must be off, just let me wish you Happy Beth Day!’ With a final shake of Sam’s hand, the man sauntered off whistling to himself.

  ‘Happy what-now?’

  Libby grabbed her arm and turned her towards a large homemade banner hanging over the front door of the emporium emblazoned with the words Happy Beth Day followed by half a dozen exclamation marks.

  ‘What is all this?’ Beth asked her friend.

  ‘Sam organised it all. He could tell the idea of trying to get this place back in order was overwhelming you, so once he had the good news from the insurance company, he rallied the troops. You bolting threw a spanner in the works, but he called me last night to say you were coming back so I spread the word. Everyone’s here to pitch in and help. You probably won’t need all of us today, but we’ve all pledged to give you at least one day of your choosing to help with whatever you need. Painting, helping to reorder stock, stacking shelves. Whatever you want. Hester’s organised the ladies from the improvement society and they’re going to take everything out of your wardrobe and get it washed, or dry-cleaned.’

  Speechless, she tried to count the number of people gathered on the pavement and gave up after reaching thirty. Everyone was smiling and chatting, organising themselves into little self-assigned groups the way Hester and her friends had volunteered to do her
washing.

  A familiar hand closed upon her shoulder and Beth spun around to throw herself into Sam’s arms. ‘What did you do?’ She sobbed into his chest, unable to believe what was happening.

  He explained to her about his suspicions over the lock, how the insurance agent had reviewed the file and found a photograph showing clearly it had been damaged on the night. That when the police had interviewed the rough sleeper, he’d admitted to forcing his way into the rear yard.

  Stroking her hair just the way she liked it, he continued. ‘Getting the insurers to pay up wasn’t enough. I wanted to show you that you’re not on your own, Beth. That you have friends and neighbours who want you to succeed. Want you to be part of this community.’

  Sniffing, she lifted her head. ‘And what about you? Do I have you?’

  Love and laughter shone bright in his eyes. ‘For as long as you want me, darling.’

  Stretching on tiptoe, she kissed him. ‘And what if I want you for more than a June swoon? What if I want you forever?’

  His hands cupped her cheeks. ‘Sounds perfect. You. Me. Marriage. Babies. I want the whole package. Not yet, but one of these days, I want you to be mine. Forever.’

  Heart soaring, she couldn’t hold in her joyful laughter. ‘Be careful what you wish for, Mr Barnes, you might just get it.’

  He tugged her close. ‘I’m counting on it. After all, you’re a sure thing, right?’ Her laughter was swallowed by one of his toe-curling, mind-scrambling kisses and Beth forgot about everyone and everything but the man holding her tight.

  Because when it came to him, she was most definitely a sure thing.

  Acknowledgements

  A new series, who would’ve thought it? Thanks to everyone who read and raved about Butterfly Cove. Your support has given me the opportunity to introduce you to a whole new cast of characters. I hope you will embrace Beth, Eliza and Libby with as much enthusiasm as you did Mia, and her sisters.

  To my biggest supporter, bar none – my lovely husband. Thanks, bun x

  To my fabulous editor, Charlotte Mursell. Thank you for helping me find the story that was in my heart. It’s been a difficult few months, and your support can not be understated.

  To the HQ Digital team – a band of unsung heroes who work so hard behind the scenes. So much of my success is down to your efforts. You are deeply appreciated.

  All the friends I have made throughout the romance writing community – you keep me sane, keep me laughing, keep me writing.

  And, as ever, to you the reader – I hope you enjoy escaping to Lavender Bay. x

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Sunrise at Butterfly Cove, the enchanting first book in the Butterfly

  Cove series from Sarah Bennett…

  Prologue

  October 2014

  ‘And the winner of the 2014 Martindale Prize for Best New Artist is…’

  Daniel Fitzwilliams lounged back in his chair and took another sip from the never-emptying glass of champagne. His bow tie hung loose around his neck, and the first two buttons of his wing-collar shirt had been unfastened since just after the main course had been served. The room temperature hovered somewhere around the fifth circle of hell and he wondered how much longer he would have to endure the fake smiles and shoulder pats from strangers passing his table.

  The MC made a big performance of rustling the large silver envelope in his hand. ‘Get on with it, mate,’ Daniel muttered. His agent, Nigel, gave him a smile and gulped at the contents of his own glass. His nomination had been a huge surprise and no-one expected him to win, Daniel least of all.

  ‘Well, well.’ The MC adjusted his glasses and peered at the card he’d finally wrestled free. ‘I am delighted to announce that the winner of the Martindale Prize is Fitz, for his series “Interactions”.’

  A roar of noise from the rest of his tablemates covered the choking sounds of Nigel inhaling half a glass of champagne. Daniel’s own glass slipped from his limp fingers and rolled harmlessly under the table. ‘Bugger me.’

  ‘Go on, mate. Get up there!’ His best friend, Aaron, rounded the table and tugged Daniel to his feet. ‘I told you, I bloody told you, but you wouldn’t believe me.’

  Daniel wove his way through the other tables towards the stage, accepting handshakes and kisses from all sides. Will Spector, the bookies’ favourite and the art crowd’s latest darling, raised a glass in toast and Daniel nodded to acknowledge his gracious gesture. Flashbulbs popped from all sides as he mounted the stairs to shake hands with the MC. He raised the sinuous glass trophy and blinked out at the clapping, cheering crowd of his peers.

  The great and the good were out in force. The Martindale attracted a lot of press coverage and the red-carpet winners and losers would be paraded across the inside pages for people to gawk at over their morning cereal. His mum had always loved to see the celebrities in their posh frocks. He just wished she’d survived long enough to see her boy come good. Daniel swallowed around the lump in his throat. Fuck cancer. Dad had at least made it to Daniel’s first exhibition, before his heart failed and he’d followed his beloved Nancy to the grave.

  Daniel adjusted the microphone in front of him and waited for the cheers to subside. The biggest night of his life, and he’d never felt lonelier.

  ***

  Mia Sutherland resisted the urge to check her watch and tried to focus on the flickering television screen. The latest episode of The Watcher would normally have no trouble in holding her attention—it was her and Jamie’s new favourite show. She glanced at the empty space on the sofa beside her. Even with the filthy weather outside, he should have been home before now. Winter had hit earlier than usual and she’d found herself turning the lights on mid-afternoon to try and dispel the gloom caused by the raging storm outside.

  The ad break flashed upon the screen and she popped into the kitchen to give the pot of stew a quick stir. She’d given up waiting, and eaten her portion at eight-thirty, but there was plenty left for Jamie. He always said she cooked for an army rather than just the two of them.

  A rattle of sleet struck the kitchen window and Mia peered through the Venetian blind covering it; he’d be glad of a hot meal after being stuck in the traffic for so long. A quick tap of the wooden spoon against the side of the pot, and then she slipped the cast-iron lid back on. The pot was part of the Le Creuset set Jamie’s parents had given them as a wedding gift and the matching pans hung from a wooden rack above the centre of the kitchen worktop. She slid the pot back into the oven and adjusted the temperature down a notch.

  Ding-dong.

  At last! Mia hurried down the hall to the front door and tugged it open with a laugh. ‘Did you forget your keys—’ A shiver of fear ran down her back at the sight of the stern-looking policemen standing on the step. Rain dripped from the brims of their caps and darkened the shoulders of their waterproof jackets.

  ‘Mrs Sutherland?’

  No, no, no, no. Mia looked away from the sympathetic expressions and into the darkness beyond them for the familiar flash of Jamie’s headlights turning onto their small driveway.

  ‘Perhaps we could come in, Mrs Sutherland?’ The younger of the pair spoke this time.

  Go away. Go away. She’d seen this scene played out enough on the television to know what was coming next. ‘Please, come in.’ Her voice sounded strange, high-pitched and brittle to her ears. She stepped back to let the two men enter. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  The younger officer took off his cap and shrugged out of his jacket. ‘Why don’t you point me in the direction of the kettle and you and Sergeant Stone can make yourselves comfortable in the front room?’

  Mia stared at the Sergeant’s grim-set features. What a horrible job he has, poor man. ‘Yes, of course. Come on through.’

  She stared at the skin forming on the surface of her now-cold tea. She hadn’t dared to lift the cup for fear they would see how badly she was shaking. ‘Is there someone you’d like us to call?’ PC Taylor asked, startling her. The way h
e phrased the question made her wonder how many times he’d asked before she’d heard him. I’d like you to call my husband.

  Mia bit her lip against the pointless words, and ran through a quick inventory in her head. Her parents would be useless; it was too far past cocktail hour for her mother to be coherent and her dad didn’t do emotions well at the best of times.

  Her middle sister, Kiki, had enough on her hands with the new baby and Matty determined to live up to every horror story ever told about the terrible twos. Had it only been last week she and Jamie had babysat Matty because the baby had been sick? An image of Jamie holding their sleeping nephew in his lap rose unbidden and she shook her head sharply to dispel it. She couldn’t think about things like that. Not right then.

  The youngest of her siblings, Nee, was neck-deep in her final year at art school in London. Too young and too far away to be shouldering the burden of her eldest sister’s grief. The only person she wanted to talk to was Jamie and that would never happen again. Bile burned in her throat and a whooping sob escaped before she could swallow it back.

  ‘S-sorry.’ She screwed her eyes tight and stuffed everything down as far as she could. There would be time enough for tears. Opening her stinging eyes, she looked at Sergeant Stone. ‘Do Bill and Pat know?’

  ‘Your in-laws? They’re next on our list. I’m so very sorry, pet. Would you like us to take you over there?’

  Unable to speak past the knot in her throat, Mia nodded.

  Chapter One

  February 2016

  Daniel rested his head on the dirty train window and stared unseeing at the landscape as it flashed past. He didn’t know where he was going. Away. That was the word that rattled around his head. Anywhere, nowhere. Just away from London. Away from the booze, birds and fakery of his so-called celebrity lifestyle. Twenty-nine felt too young to be a has-been.