‘If he hated your family, why did he leave you this place? Have you no clue at all?’
‘None.’
‘Maybe he had a change of heart about his wicked ways,’ Tammy said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.
‘Then he should have left it toyou.’ Ruan lifted himself off the bench seat, as if he might hug her but thought better of it.
Tammy was relieved he didn’t try it. Given the mood she was in, she’d have pushed him away. ‘But he didn’t.’
‘There are probably many other people Walter hurt. I don’t know why I was singled out and I wish I’d told you but I – couldn’t.’
Through the caravan window, her former home stood, dilapidated in the darkness, and her heart squeezed painfully. ‘I suppose you’re going to sell it when you’ve done it up?’
‘I don’t want to.’
She nodded although she wasn’t sure she believed him. He surely would sell Seaspray – she’d never get used to that name. It was huge, worth a fortune, and too big for a single man. Her mind was overloaded with so much hurt, disappointment and confusion.
Ruan reached out as if to take her hand. ‘I wish he’d chosen you, not me.’
She kept her hand in her lap. ‘No. No, don’t say that,’ she said, hardening herself and wishing she hadn’t exposed herhurt so openly. ‘It – it’s none of my business. No matter how much I wish things had been different.’
‘I love your free spirit. How little you value material things.’
‘But I still want a home, Ruan. I still wish I hadmyhome. I’d like the security of knowing I’ll have a roof over my head and that the kids I might one day have will have a roof over theirs. Being a struggling artist isn’t all that romantic when you need a place to live.’
‘If you’d known I’d inherited it and that Walter was my great-uncle when we met, would it have made any difference?’
‘No …’ She put her hands on her head. ‘I don’t know. It shouldn’t make a difference – not in an ideal world. But it’s a shock.’
‘Would you have hated me?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t have trusted myself to talk to you. I’d have assumed you were just like him – like Walter.’
‘Tammy. I inherited his house, not his grasping ways. I only met him once.’
‘It may be irrational of me, but I need time to come to terms with this.’
‘It’s not irrational. I understand that this place is a symbol of all you’ve lost. Of what happened to your dad …’
‘I don’t understand why I feel so bad about it, but Idoand I think it’s better if we don’t see each other for a while. I’m sorry.’ She got up and opened the caravan door and stepped into the moonlight, hearing the sea crashing on to the shore. She had to get away and lick her wounds in private.
‘Tammy, wait,’ Ruan called after her. ‘Please. At least let me walk you up to the lane.’
‘No need. I can find my own way,’ she muttered, fighting back tears of disappointment. ‘I always have.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Never had Tammy been more grateful to be busy over the course of the next week or so. Even if she hadn’t been rushed off her feet, she’d have found something to occupy every waking moment to distract her.
She’d accepted that it wasn’t Ruan’s fault, and that he’d held back ‘for her sake’, yet her trust in him was hanging by a fraying thread. The bitterness of discovering the truth was made far worse by the fact that Sean had been the one to set her on the trail and that he’d been right.
She avoided all the places around town where Sean might pop up: the pubs, the pasty shop, the sandwich bar. God forbid that he’d waltz into the gallery when she was working, barely able to hide his glee and offering to save her.
At least Ruan had had the sense to keep his distance apart from a message asking if she was OK, which she’d fended off with a vague:Yes. I’ll be in touch.
Exactly when and how she’d be in touch, she had no idea.
She launched into dealing further with the aftermath of the festival, which should have been an undiluted pleasure and the culmination of years of hard work and hopes. Enquiries were still coming thick and fast and she’d hadto set up a spreadsheet – a thing she’d never have believed of herself – to keep track of who wanted what design and when.
