Page 112 of Second Chance Summer
He ended the call with a groan. Why had he even called to leave such a stupid message?
Better he hadn’t called at all.
He gazed out at Stark, slumbering in the evening sun.
By six a.m. the next morning he was back, checking on his tiling efforts from the day before. Stark was shrouded in a sea fret but a bit of murk wasn’t going to stop him from working. He’d been looking forward to a night in his own bed but he’d spent too much of it thumping the pillow and staring into the darkness.
At least the mist seemed to be clearing. The fine dropletshad clung to his skin and soaked through his clothes. He’d soon dry when the fog finally burned off.
He made a coffee and took it down to the ruined cottages at Tean Porth, meaning to make some notes on what might need doing to restore them. Lily had suggested turning them into a private complex that could be rented by family groups or a corporate retreat.
All Sam could think of was the evening they’d skinny dipped in the sea, Lily trembling with cold and exhilaration, the sand on her bottom as she’d fled out of the water. He smiled to himself then heaved a sigh. It wasn’t going to be easy to get any work done if he kept thinking like this.
Walking past the pest house, he sat on a broken granite lintel, paying a silent tribute to his ancestors and thanking them for their legacy. At least the Teagues had no need to forage for limpets now and if he made a success of the retreat, they would have a future.
He’d allowed himself to think that he and Lily might too, but the doubts were creeping up on him. They seemed so far apart, physically, what if she changed her mind and didn’t come back for the launch at all?
After a morning of work, he locked up and headed back to the quay and on to Hell Bay House, to find Morven in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon.
She was leaning over a pot that smelled a lot better than it looked. She resembled a witch stirring her cauldron and he smiled to himself at the thought, one of the few moments of light-heartedness he’d felt all day.
‘Smells good. What is it?’ he said.
‘Spicy lentil casserole. Damon’s recipe.’
‘OK …’
‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic,’ Morven grumbled.
‘I’m starving. I’d be enthusiastic about anything.’
‘Thanks! I’m making it in advance so we can have it for dinner. It’ll taste better than it sounds.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ he said, amused, then headed upstairs, trying not to think about the night Lily had slept in the room down the hall. So close and yet so far …
When he came downstairs, Morven met him in the hallway. ‘Oh, I forgot. There’s a letter for you.’
‘OK. Probably a bill.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s an actual letter with handwriting on the front. Looks like a card to me.’ Morven shrugged. ‘I need to rescue the jacket potatoes from the oven.’
Sam picked the letter up from the hall table. It wasn’t a bill. It was a card, but it couldn’t possibly be a birthday card because the sender knew exactly when his birthday was. He’d recognise Rhiannon’s writing anywhere.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Lily slung her rucksack over her shoulders and stepped off the tourist ferry onto the quay at Bryher. A week, she’d been away, almost a whole week – and yet it felt like a year.
Over the weekend she’d managed to book a last-minute flight to Newquay from London City Airport and connected to an afternoon shuttle to Scilly. A car to the harbour, the passenger ferry to Bryher, and now she was here in the sunshine, the blue waters shimmering.
With her hair under a baseball cap, wearing shorts and a hoodie, she hoped she’d be taken for any other holidaymaker out for a day’s walking. Not a deranged woman embarking on the biggest gamble of her life.
She set off along the path to Hell Bay House, stopping at the top to catch her breath.
The house shimmered in the sunshine, with the bay stretching ahead in front of it. The tide was out as far as she’d ever seen it: the sandbanks lying like stepping stones. If Sam was on Stark, she could almost walk across. Elspeth had told her it was possible once in a blue moon.
A glint of light drew her eye. The Land Rover was parked on the driveway … which meant he was at home.
Her stomach knotted and then tightened.
