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

Chapter 9

‘Come in, Trish!’ Bunty trilled, ushering her friend through the front door. Eager to hear the latest village gossip, she soon had the shopkeeper ensconced in the drawing room, equipped with a large glass of Pimms. Bunty had made sure she was well stocked up with the drink, knowing how much it loosened Trish’s tongue. Keeping her well-oiled was the plan.

‘So, what do we know?’ enquired Bunty with a wide smile. By ‘we’ she obviously meant ‘you’ but wanted Trish to feel a sense of camaraderie, involving her too. It didn’t take too much effort to get Trish to chirp like a canary, a couple of stiff drinks and a little flattery usually did the trick. ‘Love that dress by the way, is it new?’

‘Oh yes, thank you,’ Trish replied. ‘I got it in the sale at—’

‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Bunty, ‘drink up darling, then tell me all the gossip.’ Her eyes twinkled eagerly in anticipation.

After taking two large gulps of Pimms, Trish was off.

‘Well, I’ve met your Jasmine Boyd.’ She leant forward.

‘She’s not my Jasmine, dear,’ Bunty corrected in a flat tone, not caring for the reference.

‘No… well, your… you know,’ faltered Trish.

‘And how did that go?’ Bunty pressed, keen to learn everything she could.

‘Very well,’ Trish’s response made Bunty sit up. Sensing she’d got Bunty’s full attention, she cranked up to full flow. ‘Jasmine came into the shop the other day. She bought bread, milk—’

‘What did she have to say?’ interrupted Bunty impatiently again.

‘She wanted to know if I could recommend anyone to work on her house.’

‘Ooooh.’ Bunty clapped with delight. This earned her a big grin from Trish.

‘Yes, well, of course I mentioned Robin, just like you told me to,’ Trish tapped the side of her nose conspiringly at Bunty, who winked back in approval. ‘And she seemed to take everything I said on board, what a brilliant renovator he was, what a good reputation he had, how well you thought of him—’

‘You mentioned me?’ Bunty butted in sharply.

‘Well… you know… you and everybody else in Samphire Bay who thinks well of him,’ Trish corrected in haste.

‘Hmm.’ Bunty narrowed her eyes in contemplation.

‘Anyway, he put her bathroom in yesterday apparently,’ she finished triumphantly.

Bunty’s eyes flew wide open. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, Jack came in the shop this morning and I quizzed him. Just like you told me to,’ she added.

‘And what exactly did he say?’

‘He confirmed that Robin had been so busy helping his next-door neighbour, he was putting his own renovation on hold.’

Promising, thought Bunty with satisfaction. She knocked back her drink. She didn’t offer Trish a top-up, the shopkeeper had told her enough, everything she needed to know.

‘So, about that charity event…’ Trish gave a nervous cough. She’d promised the vicar to enrol Bunty in the annual Tea by the Sea fundraising party.

‘What? Oh, that,’ replied Bunty dismissively. She vaguely remembered someone mentioning something about it weeks ago.

‘You did promise,’ whined Trish.

‘Yes, yes of course I’ll help, but I’m not serving cups of tea all day long, darling,’ Bunty said stoutly, remembering how her feet had ached like billy-o last year.

‘Oh, but—’

‘Leave it with me. I’ll think of something.’ She glanced out of the drawing room window. ‘I think you’d better be making tracks, Trish. Looks like an early tide could be coming in,’ she lied.

Once left alone, Bunty’s mind began to race, as it often did. Living alone in such a large, secluded house meant that sometimes she looked to alternative methods for comfort and company. Tarot cards was one channel that Bunty used. It had started off as a novelty at first, just a bit of fun, and now it had become more of a habit. One or two of her friends questioned her behaviour, but she’d waived away their concerns.

‘The cards are as safe or dangerous as you make them,’ she’d say. ‘They deliver a message, they don’t create them.’

Bunty had learnt that the symbolism in the cards was what she needed to pay attention to in order to gain clues and insight into her own subconscious. The cards themselves never caused any harm. Or so she thought. The truth was, Bunty was lonely. She had too much time on her hands, hence her meddling into other people’s lives.

What Trish had told Bunty earlier on only encouraged her further. Convinced her plan of pairing up Robin and Jasmine was forming nicely, she couldn’t resist drawing the tarot cards for more information.

Moving to the hall, she opened the drawer in the console table and took the pack out. Shuffling them, she then pulled one out. Turning it over, she saw The High Priestess, a woman wearing plain blue robes, sitting with her hands in her lap. A lunar crescent appeared at her feet and she wore a horned crown with a globe in the middle. This card represented mystery, stillness and passivity – time to retreat and reflect upon the situation and trust inner instincts.

Hmm, did she trust her inner instincts, though? Yes, thought Bunty, when it came to others, but did she when it came to herself?

More and more, Bunty’s mind had started to rewind, back into the past. Was it because of all this matchmaking she was trying to accomplish? The cold, hard truth hit home with force. Yes! a voice from within yelled. She was concentrating on other people’s love lives to compensate for so badly neglecting her own. Mistakes, misunderstandings and misgivings tumbled inside her head, building momentum. Those memories came floating back up to the surface of her psyche once more. That red boat, that final salute…

‘Oh Perry, where are you?’ she whimpered.

Jasmine sighed happily and sank further beneath the bubbles. She was at last luxuriating in her bath. She had been waiting for this moment, when she could finally relax and let the warm water soothe her aching muscles – and ache they did. Never had she done such physical labour. Yes, she’d pitched in with Tom when renovating Moonshine , but everything had been on a much smaller scale. She pictured the tiny bathroom they’d had on the boat, compared to the one she was bathing in now.

Looking around the room, Jasmine couldn’t help but be proud. Gone was the grimy old toilet, sink and bath, dirty lino, damp wallpaper and peeling paintwork. Now, thanks to Robin, a new white suite had been installed. Together with Sam, they had sanded the wooden floorboards down and stained them mahogany, presenting a striking contrast in colour. The original tiles which ran halfway up the wall, Jasmine had rather liked, being a classy dark green, so she’d scrubbed them clean and re-grouted in between. She had stripped all the tatty wallpaper off and simply painted over the rest of the walls with a chalky-white paint.

Once the accessories of a wooden towel rack with matching dark green towels, a large mirror hanging above the sink and a wooden bath shelf holding green candles and white blocks of soap had been added, the room looked complete. Job well done, thought Jasmine with satisfaction.

Of course, none of this would have happened so swiftly if it hadn’t been for Robin. Thinking about him comforted her; it was good to know there was someone so kind nearby. Sam, as her protective older brother, had even given him his seal of approval. Jasmine knew that he wouldn’t have left earlier than planned had he not liked her neighbour.

As it was, Sam had jelled well with Robin when working together on the bathroom. After packing up the tent and waving his little sister goodbye, he’d been comforted she wasn’t completely alone. It had also been a huge comfort to their parents when he had relayed to them the news of how much Robin had helped, too.

In the soapy water, Jasmine closed her eyes, basking in the peace and quiet. For once, there wasn’t the sound of knocking and banging to be heard from next door either. Whilst Robin had been busy fitting her bathroom, Jack, his business partner, had apparently been dismantling and replacing a fireplace. It sounded like the chimney breast was being bashed through. Jasmine hadn’t altogether warmed towards Jack. His first impression left her feeling uncomfortable, having caught him staring at her through the kitchen window. She also noticed that Robin had been keen to press on, rather than keep him talking. Once again, she was reminded of the consideration Robin showed, willing to put her cottage first, before working on his. She wondered if this had caused any difficulties with Jack, especially as Robin was about to start fitting her kitchen.

After a good, long soak, Jasmine stepped out onto the new bath mat and wrapped a thick, fluffy towel round her. Barefoot, she tiptoed into her bedroom and almost laughed at the comparison. This was definitely going to be the next room to get the treatment. For a start, she was sick of sleeping on a camp bed. That novelty had long worn off and now she was desperate to assemble the double bed she’d had delivered. Apart from stripping the walls and painting them, plus replacing the carpet, there wasn’t too much involved in this room. Just taking out the heavy, dark curtains would make a huge difference, letting the natural light flood in. Jasmine couldn’t understand why anyone would want to restrict such a fabulous view. She intended to put up a Roman blind in the window, maximising as much of the clear window as possible. But all that would have to wait until the kitchen was finished. One room at a time, she told herself. So, for now, a camp bed it was.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of high-pitched drilling. After quickly dressing, she pulled back the curtains to see Robin’s Range Rover parked outside. He must be doing something next door. It sounded like it was coming from upstairs. Blimey, didn’t he ever stop? It was early evening, surely he must be tired by now? Yesterday he had finished putting in her shower and had gone straight back to his cottage to assist Jack with something. The guy was constantly on the go. Then the drilling stopped. Jasmine listened for any further noise. All was quiet.

Her thoughts turned to the chilli which was ready to be heated up in the microwave. It was seven o’clock and she was starving. Would Robin have eaten yet? Deciding to show some appreciation for all he was doing for her, she made her way next door.

Jasmine was about to knock on the back door, when Robin came out of it.

‘Oh,’ she hastily stepped back. ‘I just came round to see if you’ve eaten yet, only I’m about to have a chilli and there’s plenty for two?’

Robin stopped and looked at his watch. ‘Hell, is that the time?’

Jasmine chuckled. ‘You’ve not had dinner then?’

He gave a slow smile. ‘No, but chilli sounds wonderful.’

‘Go mad and have a glass of wine with it,’ Jasmine said with a twitch of her lips.

‘I just might,’ he replied.

Robin genuinely had lost track of the day, having worked flat-out – the stairs leading up to the attic were finished, and the floorboards strengthened. The skylight window gave extra light, making the room feel airier. All they had to do next was clear away the storage trunks which had been left in there and it would be a clear, open space.

Jasmine’s kitchen was crowded with various boxes containing kitchen unit parts waiting to be unpacked and made up. She managed to squeeze in a couple of camp chairs by one which acted as a makeshift table for them. After heating up and serving the chilli, along with microwave rice, Jasmine opened a bottle of red wine and poured them each a generous glass.

‘There you go, you deserve it,’ she said passing Robin his glass.

‘Cheers!’ Robin took a large gulp, savouring the rich and fruity flavours hitting the back of his throat. Glancing down at his steaming plate, he suddenly realised how hungry he was. ‘Thanks for this Jasmine. It’s good of you.’ What would he have eaten at home? Probably just cheese on toast, something quick. He looked up to see her studying him. He cocked his head to one side and frowned slightly. What was she thinking?

‘Robin, why are you helping me?’ she asked.

The question floored him, it was so unexpected. Stalling for time, he chewed on his food before answering.

‘Because I want to.’ He shrugged. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I do appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, but you don’t know me and… well… it’s a big favour, isn’t it, when you’ve got so much on?’ She was still scrutinising his face.

Robin looked down, avoiding eye contact. He was beginning to feel a little put on the spot. What could he say? Tell her that Bunty had basically set them up to meet? That from the moment he had clapped eyes on her, he’d felt an innate compulsion to help her? No, she’d run a mile, and rightly so.

For Jasmine, the penny had just dropped. ‘You may not know me, but you know about me, don’t you?’ It wasn’t an accusation, more a recognition. Her voice was quiet and soft, making Robin shift in his chair awkwardly. There was a silence. Then Robin came clean.

‘Yes, Jasmine, I know about you,’ he answered honestly.

‘I see.’ She gazed out of the kitchen window, chewing her lip. Her hand reached up to clasp the heart pendant on her necklace. Robin sat still, not knowing what to say. ‘I suppose it’s common knowledge. Tom’s death was in the paper after all,’ she said, turning back to him with tears in her eyes.

Robin resisted telling her that he’d in fact learnt from Bunty about her poor husband.

‘I’m so sorry, Jasmine, it must be… awful for you.’ Robin winced at how lame he sounded, but words really did fail him. Still, he pressed on, ‘I would have helped you anyway. We’re neighbours and that’s what neighbours do, isn’t it, help each other?’ he gently replied, then pointing to his plate, ‘ You’ve made me dinner, and very nice it is too.’

‘Thanks.’ She gave a shaky smile.

Their eyes met for a moment. Jasmine swallowed, a strange sensation washing over her.

‘Let’s have a top-up.’ Robin took the wine bottle and refilled their glasses. Then he sat back and surveyed the chaos in the kitchen. Jasmine’s lips twitched, guessing what he was thinking. ‘Well, I’ve got my work cut out here, haven’t I?’ he teased, trying to make light of the situation.

‘I’ll be your glamorous assistant,’ she replied dryly.

Robin smiled compassionately whilst admiring this young, beautiful widow, who was valiantly restarting her life. Yes, he was attracted to her, of course he was, but equally he couldn’t help but value her strength in spirit.