Shaking off his melancholy thoughts, Daniel roused at the sound of Mia shuffling back into the room. ‘This is Orcombe’s idea of Google.’ She dropped the local phone directory on the table before skirting past, back over to the kettle.
Daniel pulled the book towards him and started flipping through until he came to the section for hotels, inns and guest houses. He smiled slightly at using the old-fashioned book. So used to instant access to the world through his phone, it felt strange to be manually searching for information again.
Several of the entries carried small ads detailing seasonal opening so he ignored those. His eyes skimmed down the list but nothing sounded appealing. Even the simple decision to choose which number to try first seemed too much of a trial. Desperate for a distraction, he leaned back in his chair and studied the room around him.
Mia bustled around from the butler’s sink to the large retro-style fridge to fetch a pint of milk, which she plopped on the table before turning to rummage in one of the lower cupboards. Her bottom wiggled a little as she reached deeper into the cupboard.
A man might notice such a thing, even under the swathes of material she was layered in, if he was so inclined. Not that he was so inclined, of course. This pale, scruffy little creature was nothing compared to the sleek London girls he hung with.
Mia found what she was looking for apparently, given her little hoot of triumph as she backed out of the cupboard. She brandished a decorative cake tin in hand before dropping it on the table next to the milk. A quick rattle in the cupboard above the kettle and a side plate appeared, swiftly followed by two mugs of strong tea and a bag of sugar with a teaspoon poking out of the top.
Circling the battered oak table, she pulled out a chair for herself, as far away from him as possible he noted. She added a splash of milk to her tea and nudged the cake tin closer to him, then sat back on her chair with one foot tucked underneath her.
Raising the mug to her face, she blew across the surface of her tea before raising her eyes to meet his across the table. Deep brown, with thick sooty lashes framing them and large, almost purple bruising underneath. Her face was pale, too pale. It made her eyes seem huge above her button nose and dry lips that looked as though she chewed on them too often. As if to confirm his assumption, Mia drew her lower lip between her teeth and nibbled on it. She squinted her eyes at Daniel as though trying to come to a decision.
Daniel ducked his head away from her scrutiny and raised his own mug of tea to his mouth, venturing a sip before quickly pulling the cup away with a rueful expression. ‘No milk,’ he muttered before adding some and taking another drink.
‘Are you hungry? There are scones in the tin. No cream, I’m afraid, but there’s butter and jam if you want it.’ Mia nodded with her head towards the cake tin. He put down his mug and pried open the lid of the tin, giving the contents an exploratory sniff. The sweet, buttery scent of the scones teased his nose and his stomach gave an appreciative rumble.
He reached into the tin then pulled back to quickly head to the sink and wash his hands. Returning to his seat, he lifted out his prize from the baking tin. He sliced the scone in half and slathered on a generous layer of butter.
The first bite had his eyes rolling back into his head and he was afraid a little moan of bliss may have escaped him as the sweet taste of home baking filled his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had something that hadn’t been mass-produced from a supermarket chain. Not since his mam had passed away probably. He cut his eyes to Mia and was surprised to see her pleased smile.
‘Baked by my own fair hand those are,’ she said before taking a deep drink from her mug. ‘I’d better let Richard know that he’s got competition for my culinary attentions.’
‘Mnphfod?’ Daniel mumbled around another huge mouthful of scone.
‘Madeline’s husband. He trades labour and heavy lifting around the place in exchange for treats. It’s quite the bartering system we have going. I’m holding out on a Dundee cake until he regrouts the tiles in one of the guest bathrooms.’ She paused and some of the merriment fell from her eyes. ‘I think he does it to try and make me feel less guilty for all the hard work that he and Madeline have put in here. I would be lost without them, well even more lost…’ Mia trailed off and blushed as she stuck her nose back in her cup.
‘So you’d pay me in cake if I offered to lend a hand around here?’ The words were out before Daniel realised what he was saying and he mentally kicked himself as Mia stiffened visibly in her chair, her fingers whitening as she gripped her tea.
‘You can’t stay. I’ve no room for you,’ she stammered and Daniel crooked an eyebrow and raised his eyes to the ceiling. How many bedrooms would a place this size have? Five, six maybe. ‘No room fit for habitation. I don’t know you; you can’t be here. It’s a ridiculous notion.’
Mia slammed her mug down on the table and pulled the cordless phone out of its holder on the wall and shoved it across to him. ‘Get dialling. I’m going for a shower and to get dressed and then I’ll drop you off wherever.’
She whirled away and shot out of the kitchen into the hallway. Daniel leaned sideways in his chair and caught sight of her disappearing through another doorway with the stairs framed in the background. The door slammed and he heard the snick of a key as she locked it behind her before climbing the stairs, her passage marked by creaks and groans from the half-rotten staircase.
Daniel blew out a breath and scrubbed his hand thoughtfully across his chin as he tried to decide on what to do for the best. There was a pinboard next to where the phone holder was attached to the wall and he rose from his seat to examine the eclectic mix of items pinned to it. He knew he was being nosy, but he wanted to know more about his reluctant hostess.
There were several photographs—Mia with stunningly long hair and two other women who bore a striking resemblance to her; arms entwined and heads thrown back as they laughed together at something. There was something so free and joyous in the image that Daniel wished he’d been the one on the other side of the camera capturing that tiny flash of perfection and preserving it for ever.
There was another more recent photo of Mia, this time with Madeline, touching glasses of wine together as they toasted each other. Mia was smiling in this shot too, but her expression was much less open and her hair was now shorn off in the mad pixie crop that she sported today.
There were postcards from a random selection of capital cities and scraps of paper pinned haphazardly between the photos, recipes torn from magazines, a scribbled list of tasks to be tackled on the house that daunted Daniel as he scanned down it, quotations for roof repairs and resurfacing the driveway. Daniel double-checked one of the amounts and then forced himself to turn away from the board, guilty at how nosy he was being.
Curious about the rest of the house, he headed out into the hallway, past the locked door to the upper floors, and poked his head into the first room on the right. The room was mostly empty, just an old Welsh dresser and a matching sideboard shoved back against one wall. The wooden floor scratched and dark with age was bare and the windows were lacking curtains.
With nothing to distract and soften the view beyond, Daniel’s gaze was drawn inexorably to the writhing seascape and he moved without conscious thought until his nose was pressed up against the dirty glass of the French windows.
The memory of a long-forgotten poem rose unbidden. His dad had been a great one for poetry. A hard-working man, quiet—and some had thought him grim-faced and taciturn. Daniel had later realised this was a product of his dad’s shyness though he had never found him so. A man with few opportunities who’d resigned himself to a life of manual labour, he’d been determined to learn all he could and made damn sure his son looked beyond his roots to stretch for the heights of whatever he chose to study.
Whenever he pictured his dad, it was always with a book in hand: poetry, biographies, history. He soaked up everything and Daniel had learned to read at his knee, a new poem to memorise ever
y week. His favourite times were when his dad opened his huge atlas of the world, letting Daniel choose a page at random. Whatever location he landed on, they would study and explore. A smile played on his lips. They’d travelled the world together side by side at the dining room table.
Daniel lost himself in the rolling waves and the rhythm of the words as they ebbed and flowed through his mind like the white foam of the tide on the sands before him. He rocked back slightly on his heels—hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans—and for the first time a little bit of peace and quiet stole into a corner of his heart.
This spot, this view had brought him a tiny step back to where he wanted to be. To whom he wanted to be. He wanted to be that man his father had envisioned as he plied his young son with knowledge and a love of learning, a love of exploration and wonder.
Daniel rested his suddenly hot forehead against the cold glass of the window as a wave of shame washed through him from the tips of his boots to the top of his head. A sudden gush of saliva filled his mouth, the sour taste of bile burning his throat. He wrestled with the handle of the French windows and burst out onto the scruffy patio. Lurching to the side, he doubled over, vomiting into the overgrown bushes that framed the door.
He heaved and heaved, feeling like he would turn himself inside out as the realisation hit of how disappointed his dad would be in the shallow, vain fool his beloved boy had become. For the first time, he was glad his dad had only lived long enough to enjoy the beginning of Daniel’s success rather than being there now to witness his fall from grace.
He pushed himself upright, raising his arm to wipe the tears, snot and vomit from his face. A soft noise to his right caused him to whip his head around and Daniel closed his eyes against a fresh roll of shame as he realised Mia had finished upstairs and leaned against the open patio door, her head tilted to one side as she watched him quietly.
Chapter Four
Mia stayed still as she watched Daniel struggle not to fall apart before her. His chest heaved, lungs working like a bellows as the air sawed in and out. There was a smear of vomit on his chin, more down his dark sweater and across the sleeve where he’d scrubbed at his face.
She recognised the signs of an impending meltdown when she saw them; had suffered plenty herself over the past couple of years. His obvious distress tugged at her. She didn’t want this man, this intruder in her house. The rational part of her recognised that his presence wasn’t voluntary, and she made a mental note to give Madeline a call later and voice her ire at the correct source of her dilemma.
Mia wanted to carry on as she was, hiding away and burying herself in the work to try and bring Butterfly House back to a semblance of its former glory. It was a Herculean task—even with the help and support of Madeline and Richard.
Her target for opening to guests was slipping further into the distance and part of her was glad of it. If the house wasn’t ready, then she didn’t have to be ready to deal with the outside world. Her grand plan to move forward with her life had turned into a different type of inertia. Perhaps it was time to act, time to take a chance and help someone else, and just maybe help herself at the same time.
Daniel raised a hand to cover his already shut eyes and his shoulders quaked. Moving before she was aware of what she was doing, she reached out to take his other hand, heedless of the unpleasant dampness of it.
‘Daniel, come inside with me and let’s get you cleaned up. It’s all right, darling. It’ll be all right, I promise.’ She tugged gently on his hand and gave an encouraging nod when he dropped his big hand to blink at her through the moisture clinging to his lashes. The sparkle of his tears drew her attention to the stormy green colour of his eyes.
Walking backwards she maintained eye contact as she led him through the empty room and back into the relative warmth of the kitchen. She guided him back to the table and he didn’t resist when pressed into a chair. She dashed through to the dining room to close and latch the patio doors, her stockinged feet sliding across the wooden floor as she hurried back.
Pulling the kitchen door closed, she cocooned them in the warmth from the Aga. Daniel hadn’t moved from the spot she had placed him in and Mia gave him a worried frown as she went over to the sink and turned on the hot water tap. She quickly rinsed her hands, washing off the vomit and snot and supressing a little shudder. Not the time to be squeamish.
Retrieving a plastic bowl from under the sink, she filled it with warm water and fetched a clean towel from the drawer. After placing them on the table, she gripped Daniel’s chin, turning his face towards her. He remained passive while she washed his face, letting her turn his head this way and that as she wiped away the traces of his outburst. She rinsed the towel out in the bowl, then cleaned off his hands with the same concentration, keeping her touch gentle, stroking his skin until he began to stir.
Daniel opened his mouth, no doubt to apologise for his behaviour, but she shook her head and tapped him under the chin to close his mouth. ‘Arms up, Daniel. Let’s get this nasty sweater off you.’ Taking care not to let the dirty material touch his face, she eased the garment over his head and bundled it up with the dirty towel. Turning away, she shoved them into the washing machine, adding them to her grubby pyjamas and dressing gown. A quick twist of the dial and the soothing hum of the machine filled the air.
‘You got a toothbrush in that duffel bag of yours?’ Mia asked, pointing towards the big bag that lay just inside the back door. She waited for him to nod before digging around in its contents until she gave a little grunt of satisfaction as she located and retrieved his wash kit. ‘You’ll feel better once you rinse your mouth and clean your teeth; I always do,’ she said trying to put him at ease.
Deciding a cold drink would probably be welcome, she fetched a can of Diet Coke and a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, before resuming her seat from earlier, one foot tucked beneath her in her habitual position. She’d regret it soon enough when the pins and needles started, but it was a habit she’d developed in childhood and never grown out of.
She watched Daniel rinse and spit, rinse again then dry his face and hands. He was braced over the sink taking deep breaths and the tension in his shoulders told her was trying not to be sick again. Without any real thought, she crossed to stand behind him and rubbed his back softly. Making circles with her hand, she stroked the tense muscles until they yielded beneath her touch.
Stormy green eyes met hers over his shoulder and she twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile, though there was little true mirth in it. ‘What a pair of fuck-ups we are,’ she said bluntly.
Surprise widened his gaze, chasing away some of the desperate vulnerability she couldn’t miss. She knew that look, knew it well, and it helped to crystallise her decision. ‘I don’t want to hear your sad story, Daniel. Nor do I want to tell you mine, so I’ll make a deal with you. You can stay here for a week and get yourself together and in return I expect you to work on the house to earn your keep. There’s a list of things to do as long as your arm. I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t have a room fit for habitation. I’ll get you a quilt and a pillow and you can crash on the sofa. Tomorrow you can pick one of the rooms upstairs and we’ll clean it up so you have somewhere to sleep tomorrow night. That’s my only offer—take it or take off.’
Mia hoped he’d take it. She knew what it was like to hit rock bottom and Daniel seemed close to that. It was time to move forward and she could manage a week. There were plenty of dirty, heavy chores on her list that he could help with. A bit of hard work might be just what he needed.
‘Thank you.’ His voice sounded rough, his throat clearly raw and dry. Mia stepped back, gathered the drinks and offered them to him. He reached for the Diet Coke, popping the tab and gulping at the cold, sweet liquid. She waited for him to drink his fill, wary in case it came back up, but he seemed more settled now that she had agreed to let him stay for a few days.
‘A couple of the rooms upstairs are en suite so I’ll sort the bathr
oom out while you sort the bedroom. Can you manage tonight without a shower? The only useable one is in my room and I just can’t have you in there.’ She turned away, needing to put some distance between them, muttering to herself as she resumed her seat. ‘I just can’t have you in my space.’
Mia crossed one arm over her chest and rubbed her other shoulder. The body language was defensive, but she couldn’t help it. With each passing moment, panic rose. She wanted to rescind her offer, shove Daniel out the door and erect all her barriers again. Danger! Keep Out! No Trespassing! She forced her hands down into her lap and tried to relax and keep her breathing calm.
‘You’ve done more than I could ever have expected under the circumstances. I’m sorry to put you in this position.’ His quiet tone sounded soft and sincere. With a rueful laugh, he continued. ‘But apparently not sorry enough that I can bring myself to do the honourable thing and leave you in peace. I will do my best to repay you with a lot of hard work and I wouldn’t dream of invading any more of your home than you are comfortable with sharing. A hot shower and a proper bed will be motivation tomorrow to get stuck in.’
Mia felt his eyes on her but didn’t want to meet them. She crossed over to the kitchen window, pulling the curtains closed over the rapidly darkening sky. ‘It gets dark so quickly this time of year.’ She rolled her eyes at her inane remark; her back was turned so thankfully he didn’t see her. The decision was made and it was time to face up to it. Hopefully they would find some neutral ground where they could both relax a little and adjust to the other’s company.
She’d always been a feeder by nature, a nurturer. It was a source of deep regret that she and Jamie had not felt ready to have a child because at least then she would’ve had a piece of him to care for. They’d been young, eager to explore the world together, revelling in the selfish bliss of just their own company, not having to split their attentions on anything other than each other. They had their whole lives ahead of them, Jamie had said. No need to rush into a family.
Sunrise at Butterfly Cove Page 3
