Second Chances at Samphire Bay (Samphire Bay Village #1)

Chapter 4

Robin drove up the path to the tip of the peninsula, knowing full well he didn’t have too long to talk to Bunty. The old girl had granted him an audience, but had insisted it be at three thirty p.m., an hour before the tide was due to cut the peninsula off. She obviously was not going to let Robin stay any longer. He allowed Bunty this condition, let her think she was in control, but he’d soon butter her up.

Still puzzled by her behaviour at not contacting him first, he was keen to get his offer in; even keener to get it accepted. Not for the first time, Robin’s imagination was running riot with the possibilities that buying the cottages could bring. He was picturing the finished project and he liked what he saw – so much so, he had begun to think of it as his home. As with other renovations he’d completed, Robin grew attached to the place and its potential, but this time it was different. This time the location had a personal connection.

He parked his Range Rover outside the impressive art deco house and made his way up the steep steps to the front door. Ringing the bell, he could soon see the silhouette approach of a figure wearing a caftan dress and bandana through the opaque glass of the double front doors. Bunty opened them with a sly smirk.

‘Ah, Robin, do come in.’ She stepped aside to let him pass. ‘I’m just in the studio.’

The studio was south facing, which meant the sun blasted through the large bow window most of the day. Bunty’s father had been a keen artist and paintings surrounded the walls. Scenes of seaside landscapes and family portraits hung all around, including a watercolour of Bunty as a little girl building sandcastles, golden haired and skin kissed by the sun, wearing a polka dot swimming costume, face concentrating on the task at hand. It was hard to believe this cute toddler had once been Bunty.

Turning to face her, Robin took the initiative. They both knew why he was there.

‘Bunty, I want to buy your cottages.’

‘Yes, I know you do,’ she replied tartly.

‘Then can we talk money? Decide on a price?’ he attempted.

‘Yes.’

Robin frowned. Was it really going to be this easy? But then, he hadn’t yet given her a figure.

‘I’ll pay the asking price,’ he ventured.

‘Which I accept.’

‘Really?’ he asked, surprised. It really was going to be this easy…

‘For one of them,’ finished Bunty.

‘Pardon?’ Robin frowned.

Bunty looked at him steadily. ‘I’ll sell you one of the cottages.’

Robin was starting to get a headache. ‘But I want both of them.’

‘Well you can’t have both of them,’ Bunty said.

‘But… why not?’

‘Because I don’t want to sell you them both.’ She folded her arms defiantly.

‘Why not?’ he repeated impatiently, then regretted his tone immediately at seeing Bunty’s raised eyebrow. ‘I mean – I don’t understand.’

‘Well, it’s quite simple, darling,’ she explained slowly, her voice saccharine sweet. ‘You can buy one of the cottages, but not both.’

Robin glared at her. He knew to try and sway her was futile. Was that a glint in her eye? She was enjoying this, the old minx. He decided to change tack.

‘So, who is going to buy the other cottage then?’ he asked, tilting his chin up, challenging her. This was greeted with a chortle of laughter.

‘You’ll have to wait and see, Robin.’

Infuriating, the woman was infuriating ! Turning on his heel, Robin made his way out, ever mindful of the tide coming in.

‘I’ll be in touch, Bunty!’ he called over his shoulder.

‘Goodbye, Robin!’ she called back playfully.

Bang went the door.

Oh dear , she thought, smiling to herself, Robin Spencer isn’t used to not getting his own way.

True, Robin Spencer wasn’t accustomed to not getting his way – most of the time. There had been one occasion though, when even Bunty had felt a degree of sympathy for him.

Robin had been engaged a while ago – two years, in fact. His business had been growing successfully and he’d poured a lot of money into a property just outside Samphire Bay. When he’d found it, his then fiancée, Ellie, had fallen in love with the old barn, and then even more so after seeing how well it had been converted, with its glass gable end and mezzanine balcony; and Robin had loved Ellie, so it made sense to make it their home. So once it was completed, and with Jack’s permission, Robin paid back Jack his share and changed the deed from the business to his and Ellie’s names.

Despite having come from very humble beginnings, Ellie had soon tired of living in the upmarket converted barn. The novelty wore off as she was left alone day after day, waiting for an exhausted Robin to return home late in the evening. When they’d moved, she had handed in her notice working for a firm of accountants, with a view to keeping Robin’s books; she liked the idea of knowing how much money he had. Meanwhile, Robin was working manically to maintain his business. It hadn’t helped keeping the barn, as the hefty profit it could have fetched would have given the business a much-needed boost. Instead, he had to make up for the loss, creating more pressure.

As Robin grew tired, overstretched and stressed out, Ellie grew impatient, demanding and bored. Her good looks meant she was never short of admirers and the inevitable happened. What hurt Robin the most was that she had managed to claim half of the barn he had renovated and paid for.

‘It’s my home and I’m entitled,’ Ellie had thrown at him during their last, vicious argument. To add insult to injury, her new boyfriend was a solicitor, who it seemed was pulling all the strings.

In the end, Robin had been well and truly fleeced. Ellie had basically taken every penny she could squeeze out of him, leaving Robin financially crippled and never trusting women again. It had taken two years of solid, hard graft for his business to regain the loss she’d inflicted. Not to mention the bitterness that had festered away inside him, as he’d also sunk his life’s savings into the barn while Ellie hadn’t contributed a thing.

Now, just when his business was getting back on its feet, and he thought an opportunity had arisen to start afresh, it was being stamped on. This time by Bunty Deville.

Bunty wasn’t a bad person, not really. She was stubborn, yes, and infuriating, but there wasn’t a malicious bone in her body. Deep down, Bunty wanted Robin to be happy. She, along with most, had seen the injustice that Robin had endured. He’d been treated despicably by that double-crossing, money-grabbing girl. She knew his parents, he was from a good, honest family and certainly didn’t deserve to be treated so dreadfully.

Bunty also knew that Robin had been scarred. Little wonder he didn’t trust women, after the way that Ellie had shafted him. Bunty didn’t blame Robin, but she, like his parents, wanted him to meet someone. The right one. He so deserved it. She knew he was popular amongst the ladies, with his handsome looks he was bound to be! Bunty might live alone, hidden away in a great big house, but she was sharp and tuned in. She kept abreast of the goings on in Samphire Bay and knew what all its residents were up to.

Secretly Bunty had admired Robin and Jack Knowles and the way they had grown their business converting properties. It was reassuring to know that they would be renovating one of her cottages too. Only one though. Originally, she had intended to sell Robin both properties, but good sense had told her to reach out to an estate agent for an evaluation and to see if there would be interest. And there was – literally within moments of the cottages going on the market, the estate agents had been contacted and a viewing arranged.

Bunty was curious when the agents told her the viewer was not from Samphire Bay, fully expecting a local to have jumped in quickly. No, it was a Mrs Jasmine Boyd, who was currently living in Carston, a market town a few miles away. This piqued Bunty’s interest further. Was she viewing the cottage alone? Apparently so, the agents had advised. Then, a distant bell rang in her memories. Bunty was sure she’d remembered reading an article in the local newspaper a couple of months ago, about a Mr Thomas Boyd being killed in a hit-and-run accident. He had been from Carston. There had been mention of a widow, Jasmine. It had to be the same Mrs Boyd who was viewing her cottage, surely?

Bunty being Bunty couldn’t resist meddling. All sorts of scenarios ran through her head. Above all, she was keen to meet Jasmine Boyd, there was something ‘calling’ her to this woman. To most, this would simply have been a chance set of circumstances. Why shouldn’t a lady who had appeared in the paper want to view her cottage? It was a totally normal thing to happen. But not to someone like Bunty. No. This had happened for a reason. She was convinced of it. As if further conviction was needed, Bunty had read her horoscope earlier that day, as she did every morning and it claimed she would be involved in an ‘intervention in matters of the heart’. Yes, fate was definitely rearing its head, as it so often did – in Bunty’s mind, that is.

The estate agent had been a touch surprised when Bunty had requested to be present at the viewing.

‘Oh… yes, of course Ms Deville, it is your property after all.’

‘Yes, I’d like to see what calibre of buyer we’re looking at,’ said Bunty.

‘Well, technically she’s not a buyer yet,’ the agent corrected carefully.

‘No, darling, but she will be,’ came Bunty’s confident reply.

The agent grinned to herself. Ms Deville had quite entertained the office. Her flamboyant dress sense and dramatic speech, peppered with ‘darlings’, had caused many a giggle.

‘The viewing is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at one p.m. We’ll see you there, Ms Deville.’

‘You certainly will.’

So, it was all arranged. Bunty was going to meet Jasmine Boyd. Already she wanted her to buy the cottage. An inner feeling told her Jasmine was the right buyer, the person who was meant to live there. Then her lips pursed mischievously. Would Robin think so too? Doubtful, but with a ‘helping hand’ from her, who knows?

‘Are you sure you don’t want me and your dad to come with you, love?’ Jasmine’s mum asked, not for the first time. Jasmine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. How many times did she need telling?

‘No, honestly, mum, I’ll be fine.’ Apart from anything else, it would give her some precious space alone, away from her parents. Her brother Sam had called yesterday and together they’d gone out for a walk. It had been good to breathe in the fresh air and feel the sun on her face. Life on the narrowboat had always afforded Jasmine time outdoors, but these days she was cooped up inside for far too long, to the extent that she now looked pale and withdrawn, devoid of any vitality which had once oozed from her. Workwise, she was producing some of the best pieces of design in her career – hardly surprising when that’s all she was concentrating on. Now, after arranging to look at a property, she had something else to focus on.

‘Why Samphire Bay?’ Sam had asked, as they sat on a park bench.

‘It’s on a coastal path and I want to be by the sea – need to be by the sea.’

‘Right.’ Sam nodded, then he hesitated as though he wanted to say more. Jasmine sensed his unease.

‘What?’

‘Do you ever… regret selling the boat?’ He eyed her sideways.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Too many memories.’

‘But is that a bad thing?’ Sam replied gently. Jasmine turned to face him.

‘Yes, it is,’ she said almost incredulously. What was it with everyone? Why would she want to remain on Moonshine , when all it did was remind her of what she had been cruelly robbed of?

‘Sorry,’ muttered Sam.

‘No.’ Jasmine sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’

Sam held out his hand and she took it. He squeezed it in comfort.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ he choked, on the verge of tears. He couldn’t help it; his heart broke at seeing his sister in such pain. If the police ever caught the bastard that had driven into Tom, he’d kill him.

‘Actually, there could be.’

Sam’s head shot up. ‘What?’

‘This cottage, if it’s for me, will need a lot of work doing on it. Basically, it’s a wreck, but that’s the attraction. I want a doer-upper, just like Moonshine .’

Sam looked at her and saw a kernel of enthusiasm glowing in her eyes, which he took to be a good sign. He encouraged her with a wide smile.

‘Course I’ll give you a hand.’

‘I’ll have a better idea tomorrow, once I’ve seen it.’

She took out a printed copy of the house specs from her coat pocket and passed them to Sam. He took in the photographs of the flintstone cottages. Although they had rotten window frames and decaying wooden doors, there was no denying their potential. He totally got the location, with a sun setting in the distance, casting a burnt orange glow over the bay.

‘It looks a fabulous spot,’ he said in awe.

‘I know,’ agreed Jasmine.

‘Which cottage might you go for?’

‘Not sure yet. There’s someone else interested in the cottages too, according to the estate agents.’

‘They always say that to try and make a sale,’ replied Sam.

‘Yeah,’ laughed Jasmine, ‘that’s what I thought.’