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

Chapter 14

The glorious, warm weather rolled on well after the Tea by the Sea event and into mid-August. Jasmine had made the most of it and had taken to early morning swims in the sea. She loved watching the sunrise, giving a rose gold glow over the waves, finding it rejuvenating and lending her a sense of optimism.

Gradually, day by day, Jasmine was beginning to feel a little more like her usual self. Buying and renovating the cottage had clearly been the right decision, not only giving her purpose, but she loved being part of Samphire Bay; it was helping her to heal. The coastal village was a beautiful setting and she now considered it home, a place to lay down new roots.

The cottage was slowly taking shape. At last she was sleeping in a double bed, which was a blessed luxury after weeks of roughing it on a camp bed. Sam had helped her assemble it and also given her a hand stripping the wallpaper in her bedroom and redecorating it. After a new carpet and Roman blind had been fitted, the room was completely transformed. No longer a dark, damp place, but a light and airy one, the duck egg blue walls providing a fresh, calming feel.

Now, as she woke to see daylight, Jasmine stretched her limbs ready for a morning dip. She climbed out of bed and moved to the window to pull up the blind. It was promising to be another balmy day. She looked out onto the back lawn. All the grass looked yellow and singed from the heat, and Jasmine didn’t fancy working in that all day again. She’d previously sat outside with the laptop in the garden but was now tiring of it, thinking it would be ideal to have a separate workspace. The idea of a studio came back into her mind and, instead of heading to the beach for her morning swim, she decided to make a start on her new studio project. The rest of the house could wait. What she really needed next was a proper, designated space to work.

As the garden sloped down, it would need to be levelled for the studio to sit on. She’d have to hire a professional with a digger. Searching the internet, she rang the number of a local business and, after explaining what she needed doing to her garden, the man on the phone seemed keen to help.

‘No problem, I’ve a Bobcat that can soon sort that out,’ he’d said.

‘Great! When can you come?’

‘Early next week?’

‘That’s fine,’ she replied.

‘If you just give me your details, I’ll write them down.’

‘I’m Jasmine Boyd and I live—’ she stopped at hearing a sharp intake of breath. There was a short silence. ‘Hello?’ she continued.

‘Sorry, I can’t do it,’ said the man tersely.

‘But you just said—’

‘Sorry.’ Down went the phone.

What was all that about? frowned Jasmine. She made a note of the business, A.R. Hall Services Ltd, clearly one to avoid. Shaking her head she looked down the list. After several attempts she gave up. They were either too busy or too far away. Feeling despondent, she decided to go for that morning dip after all.

Robin had made an early start that morning. He and Jack had decided to knock through their kitchen wall into the adjacent room, making it a large kitchen diner, and today his task was to install a wood burning stove into it. From the kitchen window, he watched Jasmine as she left through the back garden gate, onto the footpath that led down to the beach. She was carrying a small rucksack. He knew she would be going for a swim, as she had told him it had become a morning ritual. He was so tempted to join her. He could just do to sink his aching limbs into the crystal clear shore. The sea water would be good for his bones, or so his mother always told him. Looking at the cast iron stove before him, he made an impromptu decision. He was leaving it. He’d fit it in the afternoon when Jack was there. The bright, warm sunshine and the glittering waves beckoned him. That and Jasmine. He’d swim in his boxer shorts, then go back home and change afterwards. Grabbing a towel from the downstairs loo, he headed off for the beach.

He could see Jasmine climbing down the dunes and soon caught her up.

‘Hey, Jasmine!’ He waved when she quickly turned.

‘Robin, hi!’ she called back.

He ran the small distance between them and climbed down.

‘Thought I’d join you, if you don’t mind?’ he asked, shielding the sun from his eyes.

‘Course not.’ Then she looked him up and down before giving a cheeky grin, ‘Not about to go skinny dipping though, are you?’

‘Nah, I’m wearing a very respectable pair of boxers,’ he laughed. He couldn’t help but admire her body in the black tankini she wore. The morning swims had obviously toned her muscles and her skin had gained an overall honey glow; she looked amazing.

As they reached the shore, Robin quickly whipped off his trainers, T-shirt and jeans. Now it was Jasmine’s turn to appreciate the sight before her. Trying to stay focused on the swim, she was unable to ignore Robin’s firm thighs and broad shoulders, the dark shadow of hair on his chest, his taut stomach. A tingle shivered through her – and it wasn’t due to the cold water.

Robin pelted into the sea at full blast, splashing as he charged past her. She laughed, loving his style, no pussyfooting around for him. He pushed himself under the waves, then up again, wiping his hair back, before moving into a crawl swim. She treaded water, mesmerised by his energy and movements as his biceps thrust in and out of the sea. She swam towards him, keeping her head above the water.

‘When did you last come here?’ she panted once she caught up to him.

‘Too long ago,’ he said, turning to face her.

His eyelashes were dark and wet, outlining the sparkle in his hazel eyes. Jasmine swallowed, then looked away towards a flock of noisy seagulls.

‘Come on, I’ll race you,’ Robin said with gusto.

‘No way, you’ll easily win,’ she replied with a half-laugh.

‘I’ll give you a head start, go on.’ He tipped his head out to sea. Jasmine ventured a few metres ahead of him then looked back, smiling. ‘Ready, steady, go!’ he shouted. The two of them swam frantically towards the horizon. Robin easily overtook her, grabbing her waist on the way, putting her off stride.

‘You cheat!’ she spluttered.

‘I am not,’ Robin tried to sound indignant, but couldn’t keep a straight face.

They eventually swam back and waded out of the sea. Shivering, they wrapped towels round themselves and sat in the sun on the dunes, quickly drying in the summer heat.

‘That was so revitalising,’ said Robin. ‘I can see why you do it every morning.’

‘It’s brilliant,’ replied Jasmine, taking out a flask from her rucksack. ‘Want some coffee?’ He nodded and she passed him a small plastic cup.

He blew on it. ‘Thanks.’

‘Actually, I hadn’t planned to swim today,’ Jasmine remarked, then went on to explain the studio project she had planned and the conversation she’d had with A.R. Hall Services Ltd. Robin frowned, he knew who that was; Adrian Hall, they’d gone to the same college.

‘That’s odd,’ he said when Jasmine had relayed how the man had abruptly changed his mind.

Jasmine blew out a breath. ‘And now I’m stuck with no one to level out the garden.’

‘No you’re not. I’ll do it.’

‘But you don’t have the machinery,’ Jasmine said.

‘We can hire one. Jack’ll probably know someone with a Bobcat.’

‘But you’re too busy, Robin, and besides, you’ve helped me more than enough already,’ she tried to reason with him.

‘No, honestly, it won’t take too long,’ he insisted, still rather puzzled by Adrian’s behaviour.

A storm was brewing, the spell of sunshine and heat reaching a heady climax. Bunty watched the dark clouds seep through the sky, like ink blotching out the daylight. Rumbles of thunder echoed in the air. She counted between each growl to estimate the distance, a method her father had taught her years ago, each second representing a mile. Seven – the storm was getting nearer and nearer. The seagulls dashed across the unsettled waves, their squawks piercing over the bay.

The tempest reflected Bunty’s mood: foreboding. Turning her gaze from the window, she looked down towards the table, where the photographs lay all in a row like her tarot cards. These pictures told a story too, not of the future, but of the past. She sighed and sat down, staring at the set of black and white camera shots, all depicting happier times. Reaching out, Bunty picked up the one of her paddling in the sea. How chic she was in her Capri pants and such shapely legs! Then her eyes swept towards the handsome young man beside her, also very stylish, but then Perry always had been rather dapper. She examined his face, the creases by his eyes as he squinted in the sun, the dimples in his cheeks as he laughed, the love shining from his very existence.

Bunty’s throat clogged with emotion. No matter how long ago it was, the pain of losing him still cut like a knife. Once more, the image of him sailing out to sea in his little red boat drifted into her mind, that final salute, and all over circumstances that should never have been…

‘Marry me, Bunty.’ It was more an order than a proposal. His voice

was firm, to the point of indignant. He’d asked several times before,

but only to be met with the same response.

‘I can’t leave Daddy, he’s all I’ve got.’ She searched his face, hoping he’d understand her predicament.

Perry had understood all right. He’d learnt early on just how selfish Hamish Deville was. Selfish and quite disturbing. Perry could see plain as day how he manipulated his daughter. Bunty was his only child and she belonged to him .

From the moment he had stepped foot into the huge art deco house, standing proudly on the peninsula, Perry had been in awe of the grandeur of the place. Having come from a humble fisherman’s cottage, he’d never experienced the likes. His qualms hadn’t been calmed by the presence of the owner either. Hamish Deville had taken one look at the hesitant young man his daughter had brought into his home and his distaste had practically oozed from him.

Standing at the top of the sweeping staircase, Hamish had frozen, his eyes narrowed.

‘And who’s this?’ he demanded, glaring down at the young couple.

Perry stared up at the man towering above them.

‘This is Perry, Daddy!’ trilled Bunty excitedly. ‘He’s come to meet you.’

‘Has he indeed,’ Hamish said flatly, then proceeded to walk past onto the landing into an upper room, clearly dismissing them and leaving Bunty a touch embarrassed.

‘He’ll come down later,’ she tried to smooth over the situation. Perry didn’t want him to. In fact, he’d rather not have to see him at all. He’d caught the man’s measure; he was clearly trespassing on his territory and with his daughter.

Now matter how much Bunty had tried to coax her father into liking or even accepting Perry, Hamish refused point blank to cooperate. He rebuffed the boy’s presence and eventually banned him from the house. Hamish’s control over his only child was unhealthy – obsessive even. He had attempted to forbid Bunty from seeing Perry, on the grounds he was ‘simply not good enough’ for her, but not even he had the power to stop his formidable daughter. Bunty still met him, albeit in secret, something Perry had resented.

And that resentment began to build momentum. Bunty was forever clock watching, anxious to return home when she was with him. Her father had way too much influence over her; it wasn’t natural for a woman of twenty-one to be treated in such a way. When he’d voiced his thoughts, Bunty became defensive, eager to protect her father. Daddy was on his own; Daddy didn’t have Mummy any more; she was all he had.

What about him? Didn’t they have a future together? Would they constantly have to meet in hiding, only enjoying snatched time? Why shouldn’t she be able to live a normal life, have a boyfriend, one day get married? The whole scenario verged on the ridiculous and was totally unfair on Bunty.

Then it had all come to a head one summer’s evening. They were having a picnic on his little fishing boat. Enjoying the champagne he had bought, they sat together on the deck, gently bobbing up and down, listening to the water as it lapped against the sides. Perry had suddenly presented a ring, a stunning aquamarine diamond which glittered in the last of the sun’s rays. Bunty gasped at its beauty.

‘Marry me, Bunty,’ Perry had said, praying this time it would be different, that by producing a ring, it would sway her. For a brief moment, the light in her eyes told him it had – that he came first – but then the shadow of defeat cast over her face. And it was at this point he knew he’d lost. Hamish Deville would always come first place.

He had to leave, get out of Samphire Bay. There was no way Perry could carry on with the status quo, pretending he was happy, or even tolerated the impossible situation her father had callously created. It wasn’t natural. It was toxic. Two young people in love ought to be allowed to be together. Of course they should. But Perry knew that was never going to be, not with Bunty and her controlling, vindictive father.

In the end he sailed away. He collected all his belongings from his rented fisherman’s cottage, put them in his boat and set off for a new beginning. The only possession he left was his trunk containing some of their most treasured memories.

He’d seen her though, waving frantically, calling out for him. Too little, too late. Bunty had made her choice. He raised his hand and flicked the side of his head, an acknowledgment and a final goodbye.

Hamish Deville was delighted at the boy’s move. He even bought the fishermen’s cottages, thereby making sure Perry could never come back and live there again. He took Bunty away on holiday, the French Riviera, in an attempt to cheer her up. It didn’t. As the years went on, even Hamish had to admit that his daughter would in fact never get over losing the wretched boy. Such a waste to see Bunty so miserable, but still, at least she was here with him.