Page 43 of Second Chance Summer
‘I’ll tell you more when I’ve finished sorting this out, but I’ll be staying for the full two weeks as originally booked. That’s OK, isn’t it?’ she asked.
‘Well, yes …’ Cowrie Cottage was the only one he’d booked out so far, but when he’d thought Lily was leaving, he’d made plans to spend the next few weeks finishing another two. He wanted to throw himself into the work and be free from his hosting duties, cooking and cleaning.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope. On a practical note, he hadn’t slept in his own bed at Hell Bay House, his home on Bryher, for days. Morven had had the run of the place, and God knows what she’d been getting up to on her own. Elspeth had said she’d seen young people coming to and fro and heard music until the small hours. Sam would have to go back there and check the place hadn’t been turned into a rave venue before he took Lily over to Stark.
And now it would just be the two of them, alone together. There was no doubt they’d forged a bond since the accident and she’d overturned many of his expectations, but spending so much time with her might mean growing even closer.
Look what had happened the last time. It had ended in tears, bitter tears …
Sam shook himself. None of this was going to help him behave as a professional host for the next two weeks. He had to get a grip.
Lily was sitting outside the Quayside Café, talking to Elspeth.
‘Ah, Sam!’ His aunt greeted him with a broad smile on her face.
To his relief, Lily looked happier too. ‘Elspeth says I’m welcome at the café any time I want to be in touch with the outside world.’
He hid a smile. The outside world made Scilly sound like Mars.
‘And I can try out her coffee while I’m here. And possibly the cakes. The brownies were delicious.’
‘You haven’t tried the lemon drizzle yet,’ Elspeth said. ‘Or the coconut and lime sandwich, or the cheese scones. I do brunch and lunch as well as cream teas.’
‘Stop!’ Lily cried. ‘I’ll go home the size of a house!’
‘You need fattening up,’ Elspeth said. ‘Doesn’t she, Sam?’
Lily stared at him expectantly.
‘I – er—’ he floundered, feeling that Lily needed a good dose of his aunt’s cakes.
‘It’ll be OK for me to pop over to Bryher, won’t it? When you come for supplies and stuff?’
‘Yes, of course.’ He bit back a lengthy response involving tides, rocks, running the retreat, cooking for Lily, working on the unfinished cottages … before realising he was meant to be a host. ‘Do you mind,’ he said as brightly as he could,‘if while we’re here we pop in at my place, quickly? I need some clean clothes and to check on the house.’
‘Not at all,’ Lily said, equally as brightly. ‘Be my guest.’
Hell Bay House had stood for over a hundred years on a low grassy field beside the shore. It was separated from the bay itself by a freshwater pool and low rocky outcrops. In the distance beyond was Stark. He could see the cottages from here and even the ladder propped against one of the four unfinished units. Hidden at the rear were a concrete mixer and building materials.
It struck him that he was very far from having the retreat ready for visitors. Neither the facilities nor the infrastructure were ready – and, most worryingly, neither was he. It seemed arrogant of him now to have rejected Lily’s offer of advice, yet he stood by his principle: she was on Stark for a proper break, not to talk business.
He just hoped that there were no more dramas to come while she was his guest.
The press reports surrounding her accident hardly showed the retreat in a good light. One had called it ‘half-built’ and words like ‘deserted’, ‘isolated’ and ‘abandoned’ had been used along with a mention of ‘the plague and leprosy’ in reference to the pest house. None of it was an actual lie, but together it made Stark Retreat sound like a few shacks on a pestilent lump of rock where guests weren’t safe.
‘OK. I’m ready,’ Lily said, switching off her phone. ‘I’ve spoken to Richie and my head of PR. They’re going to deal with the press now so I can fully relax.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Sam said, unsure if she really would stick to it.
‘Shall we go to your house?’ she said. ‘I’ve put you to a lot of trouble already.’
‘Not at all.’ He showed her to a muddy old Defender parked near the slipway. Her eyes ranged around on the way, taking in the tiny settlement known grandly as High Town, with its flower-bedecked cottages, gallery and post office stores.
‘I didn’t know you kept a car here,’ she said.
‘Yeah, though it’s ancient and it’s never left Bryher since the day I bought it from one of the neighbours. I wasn’t even born when it arrived here on the freight ship. Most people on the islands have some form of motorised transport, to shift stuff around. We give lifts to those who need them: the elderly, non-drivers and kids up from the boats.’
‘Everyone looks out for each other, I can see that.’
