by Jenny Kane
Despite contacting every hotel and bed and breakfast in Sennen and nearby, she hadn’t been able to find an available room for the night in any of them, and had ended up staying in the house after all. Wishing she’d been less hostile to her neighbour, and had accepted the woman’s offer of clean linen, Cassandra angrily brushed away the tears that pricked at the corner of her eyes. If she didn’t get a grip then she was in danger of feeling sorry for herself.
‘But what am I supposed to do? I can’t keep myself locked away in here,’ she muttered as she stared down at the end of the garden, which she knew could be beautiful if she could be bothered to do anything about it – or, more realistically, if she could be bothered to employ a gardener to do anything about it.
She’d only come to Sennen in the first place because Justin had been so excited about their new start together. Cassandra had never imagined that start would begin with her hundreds of miles away from her lover, in a clappedout house with none of the comforts and amenities she took for granted in London.
Hating how lonely and out of routine she felt, Cassandra abruptly stood up and began to visit each room in the house. The sooner she pulled herself together and got this place habitable, the sooner Justin would put it up for rent, and they could plan a proper future together.
Telling herself to be realistic, and that it wasn’t that unreasonable that Justin was required to work a weekend so soon after his promotion, Cassandra started to make a list of everything that had to be bought for the house. Quickly feeling better for being productive, she soon realised it was going to be a lengthy list despite the fact there were only two tiny bedrooms, one bathroom, a lounge-diner and a kitchen. Top of the list, she wrote, bed linen.
An hour later, blindly staring at the Cornish scenery as it disappeared and reappeared between the high hedges that sporadically lined the roads the taxi travelled the long miles to Truro, Cassandra made another list. A private one for her own sanity.
1. Call Justin
2. Rent a car
3. Find a hairdresser
‘Are you sure you haven’t taken a wrong turn?’ Cassandra addressed the cabbie as she glared at her watch accusingly. ‘This journey seems to be taking for ever.’
With the patience of someone used to ferrying unrealistic tourists around, the driver replied with steady practicality, ‘I’ve been driving this route for longer than you’ve been on this earth, me ’andsome. It always takes over an hour to drive to Truro. I’m sure they’d ’ave told ’ee that when ’ee booked the ride.’
‘I thought they were joking.’
‘This is Cornwall. This is how it is, me ’andsome.’
Cassandra bit her lip, refraining from sharing her own opinion about Cornwall with a man whose relaxed acceptance was more annoying than if he’d got cross with her for being impatient.
Resting against the car seat, resigning herself to at least another twenty minutes, Cassandra took her notebook from her bag and re-read the list of things that needed doing to the house, and added Find a cleaner/decorator/gardener to the top.
It never ceased to amaze Cassandra how a haircut could make her feel better about life. Her previously long blonde hair was now a neat bob, its ends feathered to take away the severity of the cut.
Relaxed with a perfectly crafted latte outside a small Italian coffee shop, with the June sunshine playing around the skin of her newly revealed neck and shoulders, Cassandra let out a slow, and utterly unexpected, mutter of contentment. Perhaps, if she could schedule time here in Truro, then her temporary exile to the foot of England would be much more bearable.
Passing a hand through her hair, getting used to the fact that it stopped six inches shorter than it used to, she wondered what Justin would think of it. For the past six years as his mistress she’d had hair that hung halfway down her back. Would he like her new style? She hoped so; she loved how soft it felt, and so Justin should as well.
Gazing up at the cloudless blue sky, listening to the comforting bustle of shoppers as they passed by, Cassandra found herself smiling for the first time since her arrival. She wouldn’t tell him about her hair; it would be a nice surprise for next weekend.
A new optimism took hold. If she could find the help she required to get the house decorated, then she could book into a hotel in Truro, or perhaps Penzance, which wasn’t such a distance from Sennen, and leave the house keys with the workmen. Picturing the terrace, mentally scanning the rooms, Cassandra found herself unexpectedly taking pleasure in visualising how each space could look after she’d imposed her will upon it.
Checking her watch and judging that Justin would be having his usual gastropub lunch about now, Cassandra picked up her mobile and dialled his number.
‘Darling! Did you like your flowers?’
Justin sounded so delighted to hear from her that any lingering doubts that Cassandra had about him not coming to see her were instantly extinguished. ‘I loved them, although I’d rather it had been you holding them, and not some sweaty courier.’
‘I know, and I’d rather have been holding you rather than a bunch of flowers, but a last-minute case came onto our books. Now I’m a partner I have to take my turn in dealing with these last-minute situations, and I want the chance to prove myself. You understand, don’t you, darling?’
Cassandra could picture Justin so clearly. He’d be wearing a good-quality suit, probably in charcoal grey. His dark blond hair would be neatly gelled into place, and his right hand would be placed flat over the foot of an expensive wine glass which contained expensive wine. There would be a bowl of salad, laced with so much dressing that any of its low-calorie claims would be extinguished before he’d filled his fork for the first mouthful.
‘Of course I understand, but I still wish you’d told me about buying the house. I felt such a fool.’
Justin didn’t bother to hold in his exasperation. ‘Come on, Cassandra, I’ve explained that already, you’re a businesswoman. You can see the purchase of the house made excellent sense. Don’t turn into my wife, for God’s sake!’
Immediately stung by how quickly he’d become cross, Cassandra felt her easy mood dissolve. Never, in six years of her being his mistress, had he compared her to the dreadful Jacinta. ‘Justin, I am here, in the middle of nowhere, precisely because I am nothing like your bloody wife. I’m here as part of your escape plan!
‘I have put my entire life and my business on hold for you. For us. Don’t you dare give me a hard time because you made a major decision, using my money as well as yours, without even telling me. And before you say it, it doesn’t matter that I would have agreed anyway – what matters is that you didn’t consult me.’
There was silence down the line as Cassandra waited for Justin to respond. She was annoyed by the disapproving looks she was getting from passers-by. What the hell was wrong with the people down here? In London no one batted an eyelid if they passed someone having an argument, it was merely white noise, and nobody’s business but those involved.
‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I miss you, Cassandra. It’s not very pleasant here right now. I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’ll make it up to you soon, I promise.’
Taking a sip from her latte, Cassandra relented. ‘Has it been as awful as we assumed it would be, telling Jacinta and your boss about the divorce?’ She ran a hand through her hair, and without waiting for an answer, added, ‘That was a stupid question! I’m sure it has been beyond awful. I’m so used to us being in touch, of knowing what’s going on with each other. I feel so cut off.’
Speaking more soothingly, Justin said, ‘I have tried to call a few times, but you don’t answer.’
‘The signal is awful; I have to be in the correct part of the town to get calls and Wi-Fi.’
‘There you are then! I’m not ignoring you, I can’t reach you. And yes, it has been beyond awful. Jacinta is not going to go quietly.’
‘We never thought she would, that’s why you hid some of your money in my account.’
/> ‘It’s just as well we did. And my boss didn’t take the news well. Not good for the image of a family orientated company. I’m glad we are drip-feeding him information. If he knew I’d already got a new wife lined up, he’d probably sack me before I’d got my new desk in order.’
‘New wife?’ Cassandra spoke the words with delight, her heart soaring. All Justin’s other words seemed to fade away. ‘Really? Are you serious?’
‘I am, my darling. I am. But I’d like you to forget I said that for now so I can propose properly at a more romantic opportunity. I wasn’t going to say anything at all, but seeing as I’ve abandoned you for a minute, I thought it was only fair to reassure you that I love you, and this is going to work out for us. Anyway, how’s the house?’
Accepting his abrupt change of subject, while imagining how he might propose when the time came, Cassandra said, ‘It’s a mess. You can tell it has been empty for a while, and that the previous occupants were elderly. The smell of damp is so bad in the spare room it would make you gag. I’m in Truro today, sourcing new furnishings and thinking about colour schemes. Do I have a free hand to do what needs doing?’
‘You have excellent taste, darling, I can’t think of anyone better to attend to the interior design of an executive holiday home.’
‘Sennen Cove isn’t exactly an executive area, Justin.’
‘Which is why it’s so perfect. An exquisitely decorated house, with all the mod cons anyone could want, but in a rural retreat which offers the ultimate temporary escape from the pressures of work.’
A flicker of excitement stirred in Cassandra. ‘Well, if you put it like that, I’d better go and make a start. It’s going to cost a lot to make it perfect though.’
‘We’ll be earning our money back right from the first rental.’
‘Right then! I’d better get started. Love you.’
Having memorised directions from the obliging barista, Cassandra set off in search of a corridor of shops, which he’d described as ‘local crafty chic places’.
As soon as Cassandra pushed open the door to the first shop in the row, a place which did up old furniture, she had the strangest feeling: it was like falling in love.
Reconditioned items had, until that moment, been things that happened to other people. Cassandra had never seen the attraction of buying something second hand if you could have something brand new. She’d only gone in because she’d noticed some attractive paint points in the window, boosting themselves to contain vintage colours, as used by many a stately home. The shop smelt inviting, fresh and crisp, and she was entranced. There wasn’t a hint of ‘oldness’ about it anywhere.
‘Hello there. Shout if you want some help, or say if you’d rather I left you in peace.’
Cassandra was taken aback by the generous welcome from the woman behind the counter, who was currently wrestling with a chest of drawers. Judging from her fragile build, Cassandra found herself speculating if the chest would win.
‘I’m happy browsing, thank you.’
Taking up some sandpaper, the assistant smiled again before returning to her attack on the giant piece of furniture. ‘Right you are.’
Running her hand lightly across the top of a butter yellow sideboard, which had three exquisite bumblebees painted in one corner, Cassandra knew that she had to have it. The few items of furniture the previous occupants had left in number two Miners Row were dark wood, and although she had no doubt they were of excellent quality, they made the place feel even more cramped than it was.
The more she explored the TARDIS-styled shop, which was far larger than it had first appeared, the more items Cassandra found to delight her, and soon she realised that the three bumblebee pattern was a theme that was repeated on tables, cabinets, and even a slim dresser.
Wishing she’d had the foresight to measure the space available in the dining half of the living room, not to mention the kitchen, Cassandra checked the price tags on the bee furniture and nearly fell over. While they weren’t exactly Bond Street prices, they weren’t the cheap option she’d assumed they’d be. Still, Justin had said he respected her judgement, so maybe if she measured them to see if they’d fit in the spaces she had already visualised them in. . .Especially if she had the walls painted a lighter colour, a warm ivory perhaps. . .
‘Excuse me; I don’t suppose you have a tape measure I could borrow?’
‘Of course. Would you like a hand? Tape measures are always a bit easier with two, aren’t they?’
‘Well, yes. Thank you.’ Wondering if she’d ever get used to people not only being friendly, but willingly helpful, Cassandra pointed to the sideboard. ‘I love this, but I’m not sure it’ll fit into the house I’m updating.’
‘No problem. I’m glad you like it. I have to confess, out of all of the pieces in the shop today, I spent longer on that one than most of the others put together.’
‘You did this?’ Cassandra was impressed.
‘Yes, the bee is my signature. If you see a bee on a lump of furniture, then it’s one of mine. A few friends sell their work in here as well. We all have our own signature.’
‘I love that!’
‘Thank you. I’m Jo by the way.’
‘Cassandra. Umm, I don’t suppose I could pick your brains?’
Jo laughed heartily. ‘If you can find them, they’re all yours.’
Cassandra couldn’t help but grin back. Something about the woman made feeling happy contagious. ‘I’m after a decorator, someone I can trust to do a good job even if I’m not around.’
‘Whereabouts is the property?’
‘Sennen Cove.’
‘Oh that’s easy then.’
‘It is?’
‘Sure. You’ll be wanting Max Pendale. He’s the best down there. No question.’
‘Reliable?’
‘Very much so. His reputation has reached this far north with good reason. I have his number; I’ll fish it out for you once we’ve measured all you want to measure.’
Gesturing to Abi to pass the pen they’d been using to fill in the newspaper crossword, Max spoke into his mobile. ‘Yes, yes, I know the place very well. I can come round and do you a quote first thing Monday morning, if that’s convenient?. . . Excellent. Can I take a name and a mobile number in case of emergency?. . .You’re right, the signal here can be awkward, yet somehow we manage. . .Nine o’clock on Monday morning will be fine. . . I will see you the day after tomorrow then. Thank you.’
Scribbling down a name next to the phone number he’d already written on the side of their newspaper, Max looked across the table at Abi. ‘There’s a coincidence.’
‘In what way?’
‘The new neighbour you were worried about has just called me and asked if I’d be her decorator, assuming she likes my quote.’
‘You’re joking!’
‘Not at all. The rather efficient-sounding Ms Cassandra Henley-Pinkerton is expecting me on her doorstep at precisely nine o’clock Monday morning. You, my darling, are about to have a spy in the camp!’
Abi groaned out loud, ‘Her name is Henley-Pinkerton? Oh God, she sounds exactly like the sort of nightmare women I ran away from. I blame my old neighbours for moving! They were so lovely!’
Holding Abi close, Max said, ‘They had the chance to live nearer their grandchildren, we can’t blame them for that. Anyway, there is one compensation. If Ms Double-Barrelled takes my quote, then I could stay here while I’m working next door. If you’d like me to, that is.’
Abi’s expression blossomed with joy. ‘I’d like that. I’d like that very much.’
Chapter Six
Parking the cherry-red Kia she’d rented from a car dealer on the outskirts of Truro in a lay-by, Cassandra suddenly had a sensation of being overwhelmed. At least, she thought that was what she was feeling. She’d never felt out of her depth like this before.
Forcing herself to think clearly, she stroked the little car’s steering wheel affectionately. She didn’t understand how she felt
at all. Free, maybe? To be able to drive a car down any road she liked, when she liked, without some enterprising soul demanding money for cleaning your windscreen as you waited at the lights was as liberating as it was disorientating.
It wasn’t just that, though.
Cassandra had spent far longer in the reclaimed furniture shop than she’d intended to. It had seemed perfectly natural to accept an offer of coffee as they chatted, laughed, and she had been genuinely interested when Jo, without a hint of being patronising, had offered to show her how to make the most of the kitchen table and old wooden sink unit that were already in place at the cottage.
Having left the shop with Jo’s phone number programmed into her mobile, and details of how to get to the nearest department store to buy linen, and where to find a car rental place, stored in her brain, Cassandra had spent a thoroughly relaxed day wandering around Truro. For the first time since the train had whisked her unwillingly into Cornwall, she began to think she’d be able to survive in the south-west for a few weeks.
Climbing out of the car to take in the view across the fields, towards the sea, a meagre flow of traffic pottering past the lay-by at a thoroughly Cornish pace, Cassandra thought about Justin. The knowledge that he was only working over the weekend so he could hasten his departure from his wife had certainly been a major factor in her more peaceful state, and the thought made her pulse quicken.
Logically, Cassandra knew that if they’d been in London, and Justin had cancelled a meeting due to work issues, she’d have waved away the situation with only a twinge of regret, knowing they’d catch up as soon as they could. ‘It’s just because I’m down here and I miss him that I feel so muddled,’ she told the scenery before her. ‘If I was in my flat I’d call a friend and go to the theatre or something, or get some work done.’
Climbing back into the Kia, Cassandra set off towards Sennen, planning as she went. ‘If I’m happy enough working in London while I wait for Justin to turn up, then there’s no reason why I can’t be content doing the same here.’
