‘I don’t really know him, actually. It seems I am the only one in Pretty Beach who doesn't know who he is.’
Ben put a tea bag into a mug and poured in hot water from the kettle.
‘Oh, okay. Well, he moved in here a few years ago I would say. Keeps himself to himself mostly.’
‘Ahh, right,’ Lottie replied, trying to remain nonchalant.
‘Then again. He’s had a lot of stuff going on and then there’s the whole diving school. Not your run-of-the-mill diving school looking for pretty fish.’
‘Yeah, that is the one thing I did hear. He’s a nice neighbour though, is he?’
‘Hmm, nice enough. Blokes always say that though, don’t they?’
‘I guess they do Ben. You’re right.’
‘And we all know that everyone has secrets in Pretty Beach.’
Chapter 33
Lottie was in the kitchen prepping ingredients for the first Secret Evenings event. She’d spent the morning making herb butter which was now finished and chilling in the fridge, and the Aga was filled with trays of macaroons.
Lottie had cleared everything away and had just started cleaning off the sides and filling up the dishwasher when her phone pinged from Sallie. Lottie had texted her earlier to see if she had a tea urn that would fit into the cottage kitchen anywhere. It wasn’t really an issue, but from previous functions Lottie had catered, an urn full of hot water was handy to have and it would be good for the fresh mint tea at the end of the evening. And of course, for the people who would inevitably ask for a nice cup of tea right in the middle of the meal.
Hey, Lottie. I don’t have an urn but I do know someone who does.
Excellent. Thanks. Who? Holly?
Connor Bally has one at the diving school according to my lovely husband.
Lottie’s heart somersaulted. At the thought of him, her skin tingled. Connor Bally had an urn. What a shame she might have to go over and collect it from him.
Do you want to borrow it? I asked Ben to message him and he said yep. I can get one of Ben’s lads to walk down there and pop it in the garage until Saturday if you like?
Lottie’s mind raced. Clearly, Sallie’s suggestion was the most sensible and she quickly tried to conjure up a reason to go and collect the urn herself. She really wouldn’t mind an excuse to pop around to Connor’s workshop and be bathed in shimmering gold. Lottie thought about it for a second. Stuff it. She was going to take the bull by the horns and not worry about making up an excuse. Sallie wouldn’t care anyway.
I’ll pop round there and get it and give it a go at home so I know what I’m doing.
Great. Okay. I’ll get Ben to text him back and then give him your number.
Thanks x
An hour or so later, after a text from Ben to say that the urn was outside at the diving school in case Connor wasn’t there Lottie was in the shower. After the morning cooking, she stunk of food and there was no way she was going to arrive to get the urn in the state she’d been in earlier. She would arrive at the diving school freshly showered with her hair done and lucky earrings in.
Lottie thought about Connor as she rubbed conditioner through her hair. Gorgeous Connor with the amazing blue eyes. Her mind went through the episode on the floor at Sallie’s housewarming party, when the blood had run down her knee and how he’d swiftly taken control. She’d loved that.
Then she thought about the asparagus stroking episode and winced. What the heck was she even doing? Nearly forty-years-old and having a shower to go and pick up an urn from a man who made her heart do somersaults, but clearly would not be interested in her and her love for plants and growing vegetables?
She finished in the shower, combed through her hair, quickly dried it off, and pulled it into a low clip at the nape of her neck. After opening and closing her drawers repeatedly looking for something to wear, she decided on a plain black crew neck jumper, boyfriend jeans, ballet flats, and a pair of her lucky earrings at her ears.
An hour later she’d driven through the Old Town, along the laneway, turned right at the Boat House, and peered out from her windscreen looking for Pretty Beach Diving School. It sat right down the end from Ben Chalmers Seaplanes, and similar to Ben’s place it was an old Pretty Beach building with a corrugated roof and gravel yard in front of it. A small indistinct sign announced Pretty Beach Diving School on a fence post at the front. There wasn’t much about Pretty Beach Diving School to make it stand out at all. In fact, it could be easily missed. No wonder she hadn’t really heard a whole lot about it.
Lottie parked her car up on the grass verge, jumped over the stream and squinted her eyes. The doors were all closed, the sun glinting off the sea behind. It was very quiet and there didn't seem to be anyone around at all.
Bang goes that idea, then. What a waste of time. What the heck did I think I was doing getting showered and doing my hair and putting on my lucky earrings? Of course he’s not here. Clearly, he put the urn out and then scarpered as fast as he could away from the place when he knew the asparagus stroker would be in the vicinity.
Lottie crunched across the pebbles looking for the urn. She called out to see if anyone was around and got nothing in reply. She tried the handle on the door, pushed the buzzer on the wall, and then walked down the side of the building towards the sea.
Just as she was about to give up she saw the urn tucked up under a small carport on the other side of the drive. She crossed the yard, went under the carport, and picked up the urn and the lead beside it in a hessian reusable shopping bag. The urn was sparkling and looked like it had hardly, if ever, been used. She picked it up, balanced it against her hip, and gathered the bag with the lead in her other hand.
As she was contemplating whether or not to attempt to jump over the stream with her arms full, Lochie from Ben’s yard and a friend of Lottie’s boys went riding by on his bike.
‘Hello, Lottie. How are you? How’s Toby getting on at school?’ Lochie called out from the road as he stopped his bike and watched as Lottie precariously crossed the stream with the urn balanced in her arms.
Lottie smiled at Lochie. ‘He’s doing really well. Misses Pretty Beach though, of course.’
‘Yeah, I was messaging him last week. Sounds like the school is good, though.’
‘I guess so. It’s what his dad wanted...’
‘Yes, true. What are you up to then? Travelling with a hot water urn?’
‘It’s for my new business.’
‘Oh yes! Sallie mentioned it to me the other day. She said you’ve had a good response.’
‘I have, yep. I might be calling on you for waiter duties in the future.’
‘Ha! I’ve been well trained with the Boat House functions.’
‘I did hear that you were rather good,’ Lottie replied.
‘So, what, you’ve borrowed that from the Diving School for the evening?’
‘Yes. I probably don’t really need it. Just good to have hot water on the go at these things.’
Lochie nodded his head and looked up at the sky. ‘Hope the weather holds for you then. The forecast isn’t great for the weekend, though.’
‘I know. A storm is meant to be rolling in on Saturday afternoon. Not good, but at least it’s inside.’
‘You’ll need the urn to warm everyone up with a cuppa!’
‘Good idea. I’ll make a couple of my infamous white chocolate chip cakes and drop them off after it’s all over. One for you lot at Ben’s place and one for Connor to say thanks for this,’ Lottie said, holding up the urn.
Lochie got back on his bike as Lottie closed the boot of her car.
‘I don’t think Connor Bally will be needing anything for the urn. I won’t be turning down that cake though, it’s up there with cinnamon buns,’ Lochie said with a funny look on his face.
‘What do you mean about Connor?’
‘Put it this way. This workshop is only the half of it.’
Lottie opened the driver’s side of the car and went to get in and
frowned at Lochie.
‘Yeah. From what we see coming and going down here there’s a lot more to Connor Bally than meets the eye.’
‘Really. What do you mean?’
Lottie was very surprised at Lochie, he wasn’t much of a talker and was always one to stay quiet, but down here near the workshops, he seemed to have a bit more to say for himself.
‘All sorts of cars come down here. Big, expensive, official-looking cars and then other non-descript ones with, how shall I say, rather serious-looking people getting out of them. I see it all. Not that they realise. You know what I’m like, keep my head down and get on with my own business. I go home through that old alleyway right down the end. Only person that uses it these days, I reckon.’
‘Interesting.’
‘Yup. Very interesting. Probably not allowed to talk about it. Anyway, Lottie, I’m off. I’m cooking dinner for mum tonight and I’ve not even bought the ingredients yet,’ Lochie said and with a cheery wave started to cycle away as Lottie closed the door of her car.
Lottie waved goodbye, opened her car window, put her phone in the centre console, and put on her seat belt.
So much for putting some nice clothes on, doing my hair, and hoping to bump into the man who makes my heart turn to jelly. But at least I found out a bit more about him, Lottie thought as she squinted her eyes and turned on the ignition.
Chapter 34
Lottie had spent every waking hour, when she wasn’t prepping or organising for the first Secret Evenings event, in the outbuildings right down at the back of the garden. Ben’s industrial vacuum had worked wonders, and any remaining dust that had been there since she had spent a whole day sweeping out cobwebs and dust was now gone.
The whole place was now white and on the advice of Sallie, Lottie had purchased a job lot of white trade paint for a rock bottom price and they’d gone straight over the old antique bricks and hoped for the best. The result had been much better than she’d hoped. The old bricks which had been in dire need of repointing and had looked old, tired and grubby in their natural state now gave the whole place the depth and character it had been lacking.
The electrician had been in and there was now power and the bill hadn’t been too monstrous and the water was now running and hot.
Lottie had watched the whole place transform in front of her eyes. Every little thing she and Dimitri had done had moved them closer to having a dedicated space for her new business. Their plan being to weave pop-up events in iconic Pretty Beach locations in with regular themed events in the house on Strawberry Hill.
The jewel in the crown, though, was the room up in the eaves. As Dimitri had scrubbed the floor down on his hands and knees, and Lottie had spent the best part of an evening on a step ladder cleaning grime from the windows, the room was now flooded with light and the view down to the sea stunning. They’d not been able to believe that it had been sitting there unused for so many years.
Lottie had stood leaning on the old architrave of the doorway when it was nearly completed and had been astonished at both what they had achieved and the difference to the place. The beauty of it being that it had hardly cost her any money - the only thing it had required was hard work and elbow grease and she had plenty of that available for free.
Secret Evenings in Pretty Beach was slowly beginning to form itself into a bonafide little business that was going to hopefully save her from losing her house.
The completion of the outbuildings as a permanent place to house her at-home restaurant was well on the way. There were still a few things that had to be thought through and carefully planned and they hadn’t even started on the niceties such as the decor yet, or how she was going to cook in the small room they were converting into a makeshift kitchen. But what had come to light was that the rooms in the eaves worked beautifully as the next gorgeous secret location for a very special meal with a view out to sea.
Lottie had racked her brains for how they were going to market and, more importantly, style the room in the eaves. So far, the Boat House cottage and Pretty Beach Books had coherently flowed together with the theme of supper by the sea, and she wanted to build on that but make the event in the eaves even more special. She wanted to create so much interest and intrigue that repeat bookings came in and the word-of-mouth and social media trail sparked into action on its own.
The floor of the room in the eaves had now been painted a soft creamy white, the old bricks were fresh and bright, and the antique metal floor to ceiling windows framed the views down to the sea beautifully - she would start with that view and go from there.
Lottie closed the door to the room in the eaves, carefully stepped down the tiny stairs, locked the door behind her, and walked all the way back to the house. As she took off her gardening clogs, went through the boot room, and the heat from the Aga hit her, the sight of one of the old Bentwood chairs she’d found in the attic gave her some inspiration. Of course, the attic would have something to use in the eaves room! It was packed with old things most of which she couldn't even remember. There might be something up there she could utilise for free that would finish the room off and make it sing.
Lottie walked up the small, steep set of stairs to the attic. She hadn't been up there for years and had always planned to do something with it, but after Charlie had passed away any of her old ideas for the house had stayed exactly where they were.
It was a lovely old attic but hardly ever used. A small set of back stairs ran all the way down to the boot room but with a couple of broken treads, it had been shut off for a long time. She pulled the old-fashioned light pull and stood there as dust danced in the air and a stream of sunshine streamed in from the window in the roof.
The front of the attic held all the usual paraphernalia. Christmas decorations, suitcases, baby equipment she’d never wanted to part with, and neatly packed china she’d picked up over the years and had run out of space to store in the kitchen.
Lottie opened one of the boxes of china and started to root through it. Lots of beautiful old vintage plates from Italy, jugs, coffee cups and bowls. That one box alone could set a whole seating for Secret Evenings. She made a mental note to have the box brought downstairs and walked through to the door at the back of the attic, which held loads of old things they’d found when they had moved in.
Lottie bent down under a rafter and ran her hand over a huge pile of vintage suitcases from the forties, covered in travel destinations from all over the world. An old Singer sewing machine covered in a thick layer of dust was pushed back on the left, and an antique easel with discarded oil paints still had a half-finished painting attached to the front.
Lottie continued to walk through and look around. There were a few bits that could work in the eaves of the now clean and whitewashed outbuildings but nothing was screaming at her. Nothing, that was, until she got to the end and stacked up in the corner was a pile of old chandeliers that had been in the attic when they’d first moved in all those years ago.
Lottie knelt down and touched the glass from one of them and blew off a layer of dust. As the dust kicked up in front of her face, she coughed and spluttered. They were probably worth a fortune and had clearly been removed from the main rooms and replaced at some point with something suited to electricity.
Yes. She thought. The old chandeliers were perfect. Hung through the centre of the room in the eaves and with their soft old patina, beautiful cut glass and faded candle holders, they would give the outbuildings the character that was sorely missing.
Lottie moved the nearest chandelier to her with another shower of dust and then leaning over, she attempted to pick one of them up from the top of the pile. That would be her first problem. The chandeliers were huge and there was no way she would be able to easily lift one up and then carry it all the way down the stairs on her own. As she sat on the attic floor and looked at them she also wondered how they were going to get the things to actually hang from the roof.
She didn’t know how she was going to do i
t but as she wiped clean one of the pieces of glass with the bottom of her shirt and it started to sparkle and catch the light, she knew that hanging through the centre of the room in the eaves together with the amazing view, and sound of the sea in the distance, they would give the room the magical feel she’d envisaged in her head.
A Secret Evening, topped with vintage chandeliers, delicious food, and looking out over at the magic that was Pretty Beach.
Maybe the outbuildings and the room at the top would provide them with their best function yet.
Chapter 35
Lottie walked out into the garden all the way to the vegetable area and rustled around in the herb garden, emerging five minutes later with a huge bunch of thyme for the first course for the event.
She had been making shortbread for years and her savoury shortbread was nearly, but not quite, as revered as her elderflower wine. In fact, there was a rumour once that it had appeared on the Pretty Beach black market via one of her boys and Holly had tried to dissect it for the recipe.
Lottie smiled to herself at the memory as she walked all the way back in through the garden and into the kitchen. She grabbed a large colander from the rack over the Aga popped in the thyme and ran it under the tap.
Dimitri came into the kitchen with his tablet, phone, and laptop and looked over to the Aga to see if the kettle was on.
‘How are you getting on?’ Lottie asked.
‘Good and not so good,’ Dimitri replied in Greek.
Lottie turned around with a frown. ‘Err, I don’t like the sound of the not so good that much. I thought we were all under control.’
‘We being the operative word. We are in control. It seems that our guests need a little bit of hand-holding regarding the location and how to get there. I didn’t realise that some people do not like using maps on their phone and other people can’t actually understand public transport,’ Dimitri said laughing.
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