Page 56 of Second Chance Summer
Lily smiled. ‘Oh, I think I can deal with a bit of banter.’
Half an hour later, they’d finished the room. Sam left the doors and windows open and went to clean the trays and brushes while Lily had a quick shower. It was her turn to cook that evening and she was makingpoisson cruwith saladand fries. The fish had been caught by Rory that morning and was already marinating in coconut milk. Cara and Étienne had taught her how to make the Polynesian speciality. It was almost the last recipe in Lily’s dwindling repertoire.
Rubbing her hair with a towel, she opened the French doors of her cottage to dry off in the late-afternoon sun.
‘Oh, God!’
Her heart thumped when she saw the message – sign –warning– that had been left on the bistro table.
Someone had carefully arranged beach pebbles into a word:
LEAVE
The hairs on her arms stood on end.
Unless there were some very clever seagulls around, those pebbles couldn’t possibly have found their way there accidentally.
She was ready to run across to Sam’s flat but stopped. He’d probably feel he should gallop to the rescue. He’d worry that Stark wasn’t secure or safe for her and he didn’t need that just when he was pushing on to finish the place.
She didn’t need anyone, least of all him, to take care of her. She’d lived in London for over a decade; she could handle a prankster … even a rogue reporter trying to scare up a story.
If it was a prankster, the message was hardly funny. Someone didn’t want her on the island or else wanted to create trouble.
Lily dismissed the notion and locked her door. Despiteher bravado, she was rather relieved that she had been included in the pub excursion. She certainly didn’t fancy staying on Stark on her own.
Thursday’s plan was to eat at the Rock, rather than going back to Stark. She’d thought about taking along her sketch pad, to capture the view of Cromwell’s Castle over the channel between Bryher and Tresco. She decided she didn’t have time and anyway, she didn’t fancy focusing on the gibbet after yesterday’s unpleasant message.
After taking a photo of the pebbles on her phone, she’d gathered them up and thrown them onto the grass outside her room.
During the day, she threw herself into getting hot and sweaty again as she and Sam unpacked and rearranged furniture in Samphire before adding the small stock of artwork, lamps and cushions.
‘Morven’s artwork looks great in here. The cottage needs to be easy to clean and uncluttered, but it is still rather bare. I saw some lovely pieces in the galleries on St Mary’s and at Bryher post office. They’d be a good start. If you have the budget, of course.’
‘I have a small budget, yes,’ Sam said warily.
‘Then would it be OK if I did some shopping for you? I could order some pieces from Lily Loves but we should use local suppliers for preference. I promise I won’t go over budget.’
Finally, he smiled. ‘Oh, I know you won’t.’
Sam had a couple of errands at the dock so Lily found aquiet table outside the Quayside Café and put in a call to Richie via FaceTime.
‘Hello,’ she said, amused to see him lounging with a mug of coffee and looking very comfortable. ‘Is that my office chair?’
‘Yes, I didn’t think you’d mind me using your desktop.’
‘I don’t – have you adjusted my seat?’
‘Of course. I’m a foot taller than you. I promise I’ll set it up for you before you get back, hun.’
‘Make sure you do,’ Lily said then smiled. ‘I’m joking. How’s it going?’
‘OK. Fine. I’ve set up a meeting with that indie gift shop chain. I know you weren’t sure they were the right home for the brand but they seem so keen. And the owner is such a sweetheart. She’s got agorgeouscockapoo just like Jakob’s. I’ve seen it on their Insta feed. That’s why the business is called Cockahoop,’ Richie explained.
Lily was about to comment that just because someone was a sweetheart and had a gorgeous dog, it didn’t necessarily make them a good business partner, but stopped herself. Richie’s eyes were lit by a zeal that was firing ideas in her brain.
She’d been wrestling with her misgivings about the supermarket deal all morning. Cockahoop was a fraction of the size but might – just might – be a much better fit with the cosiness of her brand. Perhaps Richie’s instincts were more on the money than she’d thought.
‘Are you cross that I said we’d meet them?’ he said anxiously.
