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

Chapter 34

A small party of people milled outside, raring to get in the house. One or two were stood facing the bay, taking in the panoramic view. A couple had ventured to the side to look at the gardens, while the rest waited with anticipation on the stone steps. As well as assessing the magnificent facade of the property, they were also sizing up each other – the competition.

The advantage of an open day for such a prestigious property meant that the viewers were vetted. They had to produce financial evidence to prove they had the means to buy it. So, with that in mind, everyone was a rival to each other.

Anthony had meticulously collected all the necessary information from every single person stepping foot inside the house. It was a job he thoroughly savoured, being the inquisitive kind. He’d overseen enough open days in his time not to be too in awe of the cliental – dealing with multi-millionaires, the rich and famous were old hat to him now, and he always conducted himself in a business-like manner, no matter who the client or buyer was, refusing to be either intimidated or star-struck.

He welcomed the viewers at the front entrance, along with his trusty clipboard containing the registration list. As each person passed through, they were greeted with a glass of champagne after giving their names. Today there were three couples, a father and daughter and one gentleman. Anthony had instantly recognised a few names, having shown them other properties previously. He had a staple group of potential buyers who, if they didn’t like one property or were outbid, would request to see another. Anthony knew that one of the couples today particularly sought an art deco house, having been gazumped on the Devon house which Bunty had seen on the Grand it more often than not came with the territory. But not in this case. Whoever Mr Adam F Sinclair was, all Anthony knew about him was that he was rich and currently living in Central London. It further annoyed Anthony that he hadn’t yet arrived along with all the others.

After giving a short, potted history of the house, Anthony invited all the viewers to ‘wander round at leisure and discover the charm and delights of the place.’ Bunty stood and watched the proceedings wondering what her parents would have made of it all. She stole a glance at Perry, who was standing by Emma at the piano. Once the group dispersed, she started to play a pleasant sonata which set the tone beautifully. What a lifesaver she was, thought Bunty, feeling an affinity towards her, like she had with Jasmine.

Thinking of Jasmine reminded Bunty to add her name to Anthony’s registration list. Beginning to understand just how fastidious he was, she wouldn’t put it past him to refuse her entry.

‘Is there anyone else I should be expecting?’ he asked a tad primly. He clearly didn’t approve of her friend coming along for a nosey.

‘No just Jasmine Boyd,’ replied Bunty firmly.

Refraining from telling him that this was still her house and she’d have who she wanted in it, Bunty made herself scarce. It was all starting to get on top of her. In desperate need of a gin and tonic, but unable to get to the drinks cabinet, she took a glass of champagne off a silver tray and went out onto the lawn. Discretely, she sat down on a bench behind a gigantic stone urn, bursting with mounds of hideous, plastic ivy. Glad to be camouflaged, she took a deep breath and tried to relax. She could do this. Just focus on that lovely flintstone cottage waiting for you , she told herself. After a large gulp of champagne, Bunty began to ease up. She overheard voices and deciding it was in her best interest, sat still and listened.

‘Daddy, it’s perfect! Hugo’s going to adore this house.’

‘Now, now, let’s not be too hasty, Tabitha. Doesn’t Hugo need to see it first?’

‘No, he doesn’t,’ came the petulant reply. ‘Hugo says it’s up to me . It’s what I want.’

Bunty stifled a giggle and took another sip of champagne.

‘All right, princess, let’s take another look.’

‘Yes, let’s!’ cheered Tabitha, all signs of tantrum gone.

Dear God, please don’t let my house go to that spoilt brat, prayed Bunty. She’d almost finished her drink and decided to get another. On her way back into the hall, she saw that Jasmine had just arrived and was giving her name to Anthony.

‘Ah, there she is.’ Jasmine pointed towards Bunty and went to join her.

‘Am I glad to see you,’ said Bunty in a weary tone.

Jasmine gave her a hug.

‘It’ll soon be over,’ she soothed.

‘They’re crawling around the place like ants,’ choked Bunty on the verge of tears.

‘Oh Bunty, is Perry here?’ Jasmine asked, thinking he’d be good support for her friend.

‘Yes, so is Emma, come on, I’ll introduce you,’ she said with a sniff. She mentally shook herself and ushered Jasmine towards the piano.

Emma was just finishing a piece of music when she noticed Bunty approach with Jasmine.

‘Hey, loving the outfit,’ said Jasmine, recognising Bunty’s mother’s dress from the dinner party.

Emma laughed.

‘Emma, this is Jasmine,’ said Bunty, then linked arms with Perry. ‘And this is Perry.’

‘Hi,’ replied Jasmine, smiling at them both.

Perry reached out a hand.

‘I believe we have a connection?’ he grinned.

‘We certainly do. Fellow narrowboaters,’ said Jasmine giving a firm handshake. ‘It was Tom, my husband, who bought your water pump through the marina website,’ she explained.

‘Yes, I’m so sorry to hear about poor Tom,’ Perry gravely replied.

They were interrupted by an agitated Anthony.

‘Play on dear, play on ,’ he hissed at Emma.

Bunty glared at him. She had an overwhelming urge to empty the contents of her glass in his face.

‘I think you’re wanted, Anthony.’ Perry gestured with his chin towards the entrance, where a tall man wearing sunglasses stood waiting.

Turning sharply, Anthony gripped his clipboard and sped off, leaving the others to swap grins.

‘What a man,’ Jasmine muttered with mirth.

‘I know!’ giggled Emma, then dutifully did as he’d instructed and chose another sheet of music.

‘Ah, my favourite,’ remarked Perry at hearing her choice, ‘Pink Champagne’.

‘Cheers, here’s to new beginnings,’ toasted Jasmine raising her flute.

‘And second chances,’ added Bunty gazing warmly at Perry.

After clinking glasses, they separated to mingle. Jasmine particularly wanted to see how the kitchen looked.

Emma’s playing was drawing to an end, when the late arrival wearing dark sunglasses sidled over to her.

‘You play well,’ he drawled in a deep smooth voice, which resonated with Emma immediately. He lent on the side of the piano.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, then added a little self-consciously, ‘“Pink Champagne” is my dad’s favourite.’

He gave a dazzling smile, showing perfect white teeth. His face was tanned, but hard to see properly hidden behind the black shades. He had short, black hair, which was greying at the temples.

‘Do you know “Champagne Problems”?’ he asked.

‘Taylor Swift’s song?’

‘Yeah,’ he nodded with a slow grin.

‘Er… I’ll try…’ stammered Emma, taken off guard. Fortunately, she had played it several times before when gigging and felt pretty confident remembering it. ‘Do you want the lyrics too?’ she asked.

‘That would be lovely,’ he answered looking straight into her eyes.

That voice, where had she heard it before? thought Emma. She was just about to start the song when Anthony interrupted them.

‘If you allow me, Mr Sinclair, I’ll show you—’

‘Just a minute,’ the man cut him short, raising his hand. ‘This lady is about to sing.’

‘Oh… er… right,’ spluttered Anthony blinking.

Emma cleared her throat and began to sing.

Everybody in the hall stopped still at hearing her voice, even Anthony. Jasmine, Perry and Bunty re-entered and were mesmerised by her voice. The acoustics in the marbled hall were superb.

As Emma finished the last line, a round of applause erupted, reverberating round the room. Perry’s eyes misted over, he gulped with pride. Anthony seized the moment.

‘Well, if that can’t persuade you to buy the place nothing will!’ he trilled to the mystery man. The very rich mystery man. The very rich mystery man, who could earn him a whopping, big, fat commission.

He turned, his dark shades fixed on Anthony.

‘I’ll take it, on one condition,’ he stated.

‘Name it,’ squeaked Anthony, working up a sweat.

‘You leave the piano.’

‘It’s yours,’ shot back Anthony. Hell, he’d throw in the pianist too, for what he was about to pocket! Dizzy with excitement, Anthony produced a document for the man’s signature at grease lightning. In the background a very angry Tabitha could be heard.

‘Daddy!’ she wailed, stamping her foot.

The ‘Mystery Man’ buying the Deville’s big, white house on the peninsula was the talk of Samphire Bay. All anybody knew about him was his name, Adam Sinclair, and that he currently had a residence in Central London. End of. Zilch.

Bunty had initially thought that the Grand her bed, her father’s bureau, her mother’s dressing table and a full-length mirror which had belonged to her grandmother, plus a couple of her father’s paintings. It would be a wrench to leave behind the stunning glass drinks cabinet she was so fond of (and had put to good use) but, as Robin had pointed out, she could always buy another. He and Jack had promised to keep their eyes open for one in the house clearance and reclamation sites they visited.

‘So, who is this flash Harry then?’ asked Jack.

‘Dunno,’ shrugged Robin.

‘What, nobody knows anything?’

‘Only that he’s rolling in it. Oh, and he’s tall, dark and handsome, apparently,’ Robin said dryly, making Jack laugh.

‘Is that according to Jasmine too?’ he asked with a sly smile.

‘Yeah,’ came the flat reply, making Jack laugh even harder.

‘I’m sure Jasmine only has eyes for you, mate,’ he teased, just as she came out of her studio.

‘Hi!’ she called, as Bunty followed behind.

Both men stopped cutting as the women approached.

‘Just telling Jack about the fella who’s bought your place,’ said Robin to Bunty.

‘The tall, dark, handsome fella.’ Jack nodded with a smirk. ‘Isn’t that right, Jasmine?’ He cocked a cheeky eyebrow.

Jasmine gave him a withering look. She was finally learning to accept, if not appreciate his humour.

‘Not a patch on Robin though,’ she replied tartly.

‘I agree,’ said Bunty in support.

This perked Robin up no end.

‘Do you want me to cut your side?’ he asked, pointing to the hedge.

‘Oh yes, thanks,’ smiled Jasmine. ‘I’ll cook dinner tonight in return.’

‘Sounds good,’ he replied. Their eyes locked. Bunty and Jack exchanged a knowing look.

‘Will you be having a farewell bash at your house?’ Jack asked Bunty, changing the subject.

They all faced her.

‘I don’t think so,’ Bunty replied after some consideration. She really didn’t think she could handle any more emotional trauma. The open day was bad enough, without having to endure one last final party at the house. It would be too much of a heartbreaking strain and she hated the thought of falling to pieces in front of everyone. No, far better to go quietly. Her eyes filled as she pictured herself saying goodbye to each room for the last time, running her hands over the elegant, polished surfaces, catching a final reflection in the gold edged mirrors, looking out to sea from the balcony…

‘Bunty, are you OK?’ asked Robin, noticing her face fall.

‘Yes… it’s all a bit…’ Bunty blinked and looked away.

‘I know,’ Jasmine said, putting a protective arm round her. ‘Instead of a farewell bash, let’s have a welcome party at your new cottage?’ she tentatively suggested.

‘Excellent idea, darling.’ Bunty gave a wobbly smile. ‘Just an intimate gathering though.’

‘Absolutely,’ nodded Robin.