Do Not Disturb – Part 3

‘Let me talk to him,’ Molly said, patting her hand.

‘But he thinks you were behind the charm offensive.’

‘So I’ll tell him the truth. And if he’s a stubborn bugger, I’ll tell him again and again until he believes it. He’ll listen to me because he isn’t falling for me. He’s probably not feeling very rational about you at the moment.’

‘You think that’ll work?’

Molly nodded. ‘I do. Will’s a nice guy – you wouldn’t be head over heels for him if he wasn’t – so he’ll listen to reason eventually.’

Robin stared at the tabletop, wondering if she could let her friend try to fix things. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Molly – she had more fire and determination in her petite frame than Robin did – but would she say everything that Robin wanted to convey? Could she give her this task, which, while daunting, would potentially be the difference between Will forgiving her and never talking to her again?

‘Thank you for offering,’ she said. ‘But I have to do this. What will he think of me if I can’t even face up to what I’ve done?’

Molly appraised her, her blue eyes serious. ‘I totally get it. Of course you need to speak to him. But that doesn’t stop me feeling partly responsible.’ She pressed her hand against her chest.

Robin shook her head. ‘You didn’t get the wrong end of the stick, and you didn’t let Will read your text messages.’

‘What this boils down to, Robin, is a simple misunderstanding. We haven’t been using Will as a weapon against Tim’s designs on the house, we’ve been kind to him, but he – with some inadvertent help from you – thinks that our friendship is fake. Doesn’t it sound straightforward when I say it like that?’

‘It does,’ Robin agreed, exhaling. ‘I’ll go and see him later, and that’s what I’ll tell him. Thank you, Molly. I bet you thought you were done picking pieces of me off the floor.’

‘I’m your friend,’ Molly said. ‘I’ll put you back together again as often as you need it. But this one, I’m sure, is an easy fix. Let me know as soon as you’ve spoken to him.’ She gave Robin such a reassuring grin that she allowed herself to feel a glimmer of hope.

Maybe it was that simple. Maybe, once she had explained it to Will, he would see that she had been confused, and realise that nobody’s kindness had been engineered to get him to hold on to the house, least of all hers. Molly sent her back to the guesthouse in a sharp, sunny breeze that suggested the bad weather had been a temporary blip.

Robin found the tasks she needed to do around the guesthouse, cleaning and polishing, replenishing tea, coffee and biscuits and turning down the sheets, cathartic. She went into Starcross, but decided she wouldn’t do the full changeover clean just yet, not until she had spoken to Will. All the sheets got changed on a Saturday anyway, so longer-term guests had fresh bedding too, and she didn’t want to assume he was gone for good – she’d rather believe the opposite.

She wanted to wait until evening, when Will was more likely to have finished work on Tabitha’s house for the day, and she wouldn’t have to talk while he was sorting through drawers full of paperwork or wedged half under the kitchen sink. She fiddled with the timer in Starcross, making the pinprick lights dim in and out, and tried to convince herself she wasn’t putting it off, taking time to summon up the courage to see him. If she waited until she felt completely ready, then it would never happen.

As dusk began to slip gently over the sea, muting the pinks and peaches of sunset into silky blue, the guesthouse was gleaming. Some of the guests were in their rooms, and Charles and Elisabeth, the old couple from Orkney, were enjoying a night at Taverna on the Bay on Robin’s recommendation. Outside, the promenade lamps glowed softly, competing against the growing gloom.

Robin felt a sudden determination. She would explain everything to Will and he’d forgive her, and then she would make it up to the rest of the street. They had no inkling that she’d done anything wrong, but she felt guilty for believing they’d all be so underhand, tricking Will with fake generosity. She had to make it up to them somehow, even if they never knew her motivation. She would do something that showed she was part of the community, that she could enter into the spirit as they had done, and that she appreciated the kindness they’d shown her when she returned to Campion Bay, even if Molly had had to remind her of it.

With a positive sequence of events lodged firmly in her head, and her palms only a little bit sweaty, Robin slipped on her ballet pumps and quietly left the house.

Chapter Two

The curtains of number four were drawn, but there was a slender line of golden light at one side of the window, where one had been pulled too far over. Robin took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and lifted the knocker, banging it down twice. She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease her anxiety, wanting to appear calm in front of him.

After a few moments she heard footsteps approaching from inside. The latch clicked and the door swung inwards, Will’s tall frame appearing in shadow, silhouetted against the hall light. He immediately turned away from her and started to close the door.

‘Will, wait—’

‘I have nothing to say to you.’

‘Please.’ She took a step forward, placing her foot over the threshold.

She could just make out his glance towards her foot, his face creasing in irritation as he yanked the door back open.

‘Please, Will,’ Robin tried again. ‘Let me explain.’

‘Molly’s text did that perfectly well, thanks. I have to get on.’ He looked at her foot again, but Robin stood her ground. He took a step towards her, his sigh loud, his face suddenly bathed in the glow from the street light.

Robin stared at him. She couldn’t help it. Only the day before, he had seemed relaxed, happy, laughing with her as they ran back to the guesthouse, the press of his lips so tender as he’d kissed her.

Now, his hair was, again, damp, as if he’d not long emerged from the shower, but he hadn’t shaved, and the dark smudges under his eyes told of a sleepless night. His expression was dark, closed off, and his hands, which had so recently caressed her face, were bunched into fists.

Robin swallowed. ‘Molly’s text didn’t tell the truth,’ she said. ‘She’s my friend, we have jokes and we— It seemed awful, I know that. It seemed like there was this whole, organised plan—’

‘You admitted it.’ Will gave a sharp, humourless laugh. ‘You told me that’s what happened, that you’d all been in on it together, so that you could stop your boyfriend from buying my aunt’s house and messing up your seafront. Or don’t you remember confessing all that to me?’

Robin winced at the anger in his voice, unsure which thing to refute first. She wanted to move her foot, to get comfortable – her thigh was beginning to ache – but she didn’t want to give him the opportunity to close the door before she’d said all she needed to.

‘I was wrong about so many things,’ she said. ‘I’ve spoken to Molly and there was no campaign. I thought she’d organised one – I thought she’d asked Ashley and Stefano to make you feel welcome, but she didn’t. You were a new face on the road, Tabitha’s nephew, and they were just being neighbourly. They did those things of their own accord.’

A flicker of confusion passed across his features. He looked so weary, and Robin couldn’t imagine that, even if he hadn’t been cross with her, he would have had a comfortable night in Tabitha’s house. From what she could see of the hall it was still so disorganised, so full of dust.

‘So it turns out you were a one-woman publicity campaign? Doing it all by yourself, thinking you were part of something the whole street was involved in?’

‘No!’ she said. ‘That’s not it at all! I didn’t like Molly’s idea. I wouldn’t have been involved even if it had been real. I wanted to help you, to get to know you. What happened yesterday, I had wanted … that, I had wanted to spend time with you. I’ve loved your company, being with you, from the beginning. It wasn’t anything to do with Tim or the house.’

He shook his head quickly and ran a hand over his stubble. She heard the familiar sound of paws on floorboards and Darcy appeared, her head peering round Will’s legs. The Cavapoo yelped at Robin and bounded forward, her body vibrating with happiness. Robin stroked the dog, feeling instantly soothed by her unconditional affection. She wondered if Will would object, but he barely seemed to notice.

‘How am I meant to believe that, after what you told me yesterday?’ he asked.

‘I got it wrong, Will. I thought there was a campaign, I thought that was really happening, and I didn’t like it but I – I didn’t want to tell you; I didn’t want you to feel that you weren’t welcome, that the friendship offered to you was cynical, calculating.’

She glanced behind her as footsteps and voices echoed into the dusk, people passing on their way to the town centre. Will looked over her shoulder and Robin wondered for a second if he was going to invite her in, but he didn’t.

‘So,’ he said, his eyes creasing at the edges. ‘You thought there was a campaign, but there wasn’t? But you didn’t tell me what you thought was going on, or that your childhood sweetheart had designs on my aunt’s house, and had been sniffing around it even before I arrived? You knew all this, and you kept it from me while I confided in you about my dad, about Tabitha’s past. You reeled me in, making me trust you, while all the time you were hiding things from me, being loyal to your ex, who – let’s face it – doesn’t seem to be fully out of the picture. Is that about right?’

‘No, Will! Tim and I—’

‘Have you been playing us off against each other while you try to decide who you want next door?’

‘That couldn’t be further from the truth!’ She felt panic well up inside her, tried to remember Molly’s words, the ones she had used to explain the simple misunderstanding. ‘Nothing I’ve done has been false. I care about you. Tim and I – it’s over! It has been for well over a decade.’

He stared at her, his green eyes narrowed and, somehow, duller, while Darcy sat silently next to him. Robin was struck all over again by how much she cared about them both, despite their short acquaintance. She couldn’t lose them.

‘You lied to me, Robin,’ he said. His voice was quieter, defeated rather than angry. ‘You kept Tim’s plans from me, and you believed that your friends were tricking me into staying. It doesn’t matter that they weren’t – you didn’t tell me about it. You’ve been keeping me in the dark about everything, and I—’ His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. ‘I can’t trust you. Please.’ He gestured towards her foot, and Robin, her hope fading at his last words, stepped back. Her leg had gone dead, the pins and needles catching her off balance, and she put a hand on the wall to steady herself.

‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,’ she said, as he started to close the door. ‘At least come back to Starcross – you can’t be getting any sleep staying here. Will, I—’ But it was too late, and she found herself speaking to the black paint of Tabitha’s front door. She listened to the footsteps receding inside and then, with a stomach that felt like it was full of iced water, turned away from number four and went back to the guesthouse.

Molly appeared ten minutes after Robin had texted her, a bottle in her hand. Robin poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her friend. Eclipse bounded on to her lap with springlike dexterity and an adorable chirrup, and Robin buried her face in his fur, breathing in his clean, kittenish smell.

‘So what did he say?’ Molly asked, slipping off her pumps and tucking her feet beneath her.

Robin wrapped her hands round the bowl of her glass. ‘I tried to explain, to make it clear that it was a misunderstanding – just like you’d said. It sounded so innocuous the way you put it.’

‘And?’

‘He says he can’t trust me any more. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust me either.’

Molly leaned forward. ‘What exactly did he say? Tell me from the beginning.’

Robin recounted their conversation, the fact that Will hadn’t invited her inside, so it had played out on the doorstep, the way he had seemed at first angry and then defeated, and how even the admission that there had been no campaign, that the acts of kindness had been genuine, hadn’t lifted his spirits. When she’d finished, she looked up at Molly, waiting for the verdict. She hoped her friend could find some glimmer of hope, because Robin was struggling to.

Molly drummed her fingers against her lips. ‘Do you know what I think it is?’ she said. ‘I think it’s more that you didn’t tell him about Tim. You’d worked on Tabitha’s house with him, and hadn’t explained what Tim was up to, even after Tim had been round to see you both. It’s Will’s house now, and he felt that you should have been honest about what Campion Bay Property was planning – even if you didn’t know the details. Plus, it’s Tim, isn’t it?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Robin sipped her wine, but it tasted too acidic. She didn’t want alcohol: she wanted a mug of hot chocolate with squirty cream and some of her home-baked midnight cookies.

‘I don’t think it helps that Tim is your ex. Whatever Will’s feeling about what’s happened, it’s a lot more complicated because he cares about you, Robin. As I said before, he wouldn’t be so bothered if you were just another resident of Goldcrest Road. It’s only been a couple of weeks. He could wipe the slate clean. But he can’t do that with you, because so much has already happened.

‘He’s developed feelings, and then suddenly he finds out that you’ve been holding things back from him, the biggest of which is to do with your handsome, successful ex-boyfriend. I’m guessing,’ Molly said, leaning forward and rubbing Eclipse’s paws, ‘he’s a big bundle of confusion, hurt, attraction and jealousy, and he needs to wait for it all to settle so he can figure out which of those emotions rises to the top. I’m confident it will be attraction.’

Robin thought of the way Will had suggested Tim wasn’t fully out of the picture, the bitterness in his voice as he’d accused her of playing them off against each other. What Molly said made a lot of sense. ‘You think so?’

Molly nodded determinedly. ‘I do.’

Robin sat back on the sofa, her nerves settling slightly. ‘He looked so tired, Molly. It can’t be comfortable staying at Tabitha’s house with the dirt and the cobwebs. I don’t even know if there’s a bed in a good enough state for him to sleep in.’

‘He’s cut off his nose to spite his face, moving back next door,’ Molly agreed. ‘Even if he decides to chance it at the Seaview Hotel, he’s not exactly on to a winner, is he? I bet that’s adding to the disgruntlement. Chances are, he’ll realise how much he’s missing out on by being cross with you, and he’ll come back with his tail between his legs.’

Robin gave her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Molly. Thanks for talking it all through with me, for stopping me from going mad.’

‘Hey. It was my ridiculousness, my text, that created this situation in the first place. It’s my duty as your friend to help you clear it up. But for now, let out Starcross. Did you get his security number for the payment?’

Robin stared at her for a moment, then shook her head. ‘I didn’t get a chance. I’ll have to text him.’ The thought of asking him such a perfunctory question via text made her slightly nauseous, but she didn’t have a choice.

‘Try not to worry about it,’ Molly said. ‘He’s angry, but he’s a decent guy. He’ll pay up, and then you can get on with running the guesthouse while he cools off. At least he’s still in Campion Bay, and if the house is still a tip then I doubt he’s going anywhere any time soon.’

‘I’ve got time,’ Robin murmured. Molly’s words about Will cutting off his nose to spite his face had started her thinking. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to talk to her now, to accept her apology, but would he turn down a package from the guesthouse; a few creature comforts to make sleeping and eating at Tabitha’s house more bearable? Could she appeal to him in that way?

Molly nodded. ‘I’ll go round in the next couple of days, explain about the campaign misunderstanding, add my weight to your cause – if you think that would help? In the meantime, you’d best get on with things here and let it all play out in his head. He’ll soon realise that what you’ve done isn’t all that bad, and that you deserve his forgiveness.’

Robin looked down at her phone, thinking it would be better to text Will now and get it out of the way, and tried to imagine Starcross with a new guest staying in it. ‘Do you want a hot chocolate?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got marshmallows, and cookies.’

‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’ Molly laughed. ‘Bring on the comfort food.’

The next day Robin took her friend’s advice and threw herself into running the guesthouse. The May day was blustery, but it wasn’t raining any more, and the damp pavements were drying, the sand at the top of the beach fading to pale, soft gold that Robin could imagine beneath her feet.

Katy and Dean were off on their wildlife boat tour, and over breakfast were making a list of all the things they were hoping to see.

‘I’d love to see puffins. Do you get them down here?’ Katy looked up expectantly.

Robin screwed her nose up. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe. If there’s one thing I’m not very good on, it’s the wildlife around here.’

‘I want to see an osprey,’ said Dean.

Katy rolled her eyes. ‘Trust you! And a shark, no doubt. How about a whale?’

Dean pursed his lips, considering this. ‘They must pass along this way sometimes, when they get lost.’

‘Oh my God. Talk about high expectations! When we see a couple of seagulls and a bit of driftwood, you’re going to want your money back.’

‘Trust me. This trip is going to be awesome.’ He gave his girlfriend such a confident look that Robin almost believed he would be able to conjure up giant sea creatures. She felt a stab of envy, longing for the wind in her hair and sea spray on her face.

‘You know,’ Paige said, as they tidied up the kitchen after breakfast, ‘I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never been on a boat trip around the coast.’

Robin stared at her. ‘Never? Not even when there was that dodgy little charter that moored up next to the crazy golf and puttered up to the cliffs and back?’

‘When was that?’ Paige frowned, pulling her ponytail tighter.

‘Ah. It was when I was a teenager. Sorry, I always forget that—’

‘That I’m sixteen?’ Paige asked. She smiled, shaking her head slowly. ‘Yeah, I wasn’t out of nappies when you went off to university. Maybe you’re starting to get me confused with Mum. Can you get dementia in your thirties?’

‘Haha.’ Robin threw a tea towel in Paige’s direction. She could see so much of Molly’s cheekiness in her daughter, and knew that she would be able to achieve whatever she wanted to. Luckily for Robin, at the moment that meant working for her at the guesthouse when she didn’t need to be in college.

‘Adam and his friends hired a boat to investigate the caves once,’ Paige said. ‘The ones you can’t get to from the beach even at low tide, a lot further round the cliffs. I didn’t fancy it. It sounded like a recipe for disaster.’

‘You’re wise beyond your years. I assume they all came back safely?’

‘They did, but I’m not sure how far they actually got. Adam says they saw loads, and that it was really interesting, but I reckon they chickened out pretty early. You’d have to be skilled to get boats inside some of those caves without smashing against the rock.’

‘Ugh!’ Robin shuddered, thinking of the wild beach and its dark, snug recesses in the cliffs. That inevitably reminded her that she’d taken Will there, only two days before, and that she’d started to open up to him. She wanted him to know that she’d already told him more than she’d told most people, and that of course he could trust her, but she’d got things spectacularly wrong.

‘I’m off now then,’ Paige said, waving her hand in Robin’s face.

Robin blinked her daydreams away. ‘Thanks so much, Paige. See you tomorrow.’

Once Paige had left and the guesthouse settled into quiet, Robin took a deep breath and climbed up to the third floor. It was time to get Starcross ready for new guests. She’d been putting it off, but she had to accept that Will was gone and right now it looked as though he wasn’t coming back.

The room was sparkling by the time she’d finished, the telescope gleaming, all signs that Will and Darcy had ever been there gone. Bundling the linen and towels into the washing machine, Robin turned to the small wicker hamper on the kitchen table.

It was empty at the moment, but she set about filling it with luxury teabags, a few packets of biscuits and a bag of chocolate coffee beans that she’d meant to put in Sea Shanty for the guests to help themselves to. She added mini bottles of the toiletries she put in every bathroom and then, smiling to herself, popped in a packet of the mature cheddar she loved so much, a small jar of Hellman’s mayonnaise and a fat, silky garlic bulb.

It was a slightly odd hamper, but she hoped Will would appreciate it, would understand what she was trying to do and at least be able to accept this small token of apology from her. Before she had time to think whether or not it was a sensible idea, Robin raced outside, put it on his front doorstep and ran back to the guesthouse, feeling like a schoolgirl who had almost been caught playing knock down ginger.

Throughout the week Robin made the guesthouse gleam, using all the energy that she had begun to spend on being with Will, helping Will, thinking about Will. Now, she treated the Campion Bay Guesthouse as her most prized possession, and gave it all her attention. She made more midnight cookies, perfected a Canadian stack recipe of thin crepes, streaky bacon, blueberries and maple syrup that she would serve as a special on Sundays, and burned a vanilla lime Yankee candle in Sea Shanty while she drew up plans for marketing campaigns and special offers.

The weather was getting warmer, and she started opening the windows, filling the guesthouse with the crisp, seaside air and the sound of the waves that she found so irresistible. She revisited Seagull Street Gallery and spent a full ten minutes standing in front of Arthur Durrant’s new nightscape, drinking in the textures, the sensation of night drawing in around her, the dots of white paint that so clearly became twinkling lights in the darkness. She left invigorated, and with five new miniature paintings in her jute bag, one for each of the bedrooms. They were all by the same artist, all striking designs in bright colours. There were cheerful beach hut paintings for Rockpool and Canvas, wildflower landscapes for Wilderness and Andalusia, and a sunset for Starcross, the sun a glowing orb hovering above the horizon, a few stars beginning to show in the blue of the gathering dusk.

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