Is not general incivility the very essence of love?
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
The grumpy giant raised a derisive brow.
‘Of this I was never in doubt.’
‘I thought you were a gardener. Or a neighbour. Not a…’
The mocking brow rose higher.
‘I— I was simply—’ Anna gestured towards the animals ‘—admiring your pets.’
The man grunted. ‘The feline isn’t mine.’
Oliver Seymour was as Anna remembered: aside from the grumpiness, good-looking, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and piercing eyes. He wore wire-rimmed glasses today on his Roman nose, and a sardonic expression.
‘So, you want to work for me.’
Did she? Anna was tempted to say, ‘No thanks, I’ve changed my mind,’ but then she remembered her need for a job.
‘You’ll do.’
Anna’s gaze snapped to his. ‘But… but you haven’t asked me anything. Or tested my typing speed or…’ Her voice trailed away under his look.
‘I’m not looking for a conversationalist. You’ll do fine. I can’t imagine you came here for the job if you can’t do it. Mrs Clegg knows better than to suggest it.’ He raised his chin. ‘She said she knew you. Does she?’
‘Yes, of course. She was a friend of my aunt’s. Well, not really my aunt, I just called her that.’ Anna paused. ‘Why does Mrs Clegg call you Master Oliver?’
He didn’t answer for a moment. After all, he’d said he wasn’t looking for a conversationalist.
‘She was in service all her life. I’ve asked her not to, but old habits die hard.’
Anna smiled. ‘I like it. It’s sweet.’
A grunt was the only response to this, and Oliver Seymour turned back and retook his seat.
‘The desk is over there. Go and power up the Mac and I’ll give you the first chapter.’ He didn’t look at her again, merely resumed his tapping on the keyboard. ‘Oh, and there’s no need to dress up. There’s no one here to see whether you look like a typist or not.’
Bristling, Anna resisted the temptation to tell him he didn’t look much like a successful social historian either, but then she realised she didn’t know what one was supposed to look like. Did they all wear business suits and ties? Surely he approved of formal dress? Then, she brushed it aside. Facts were facts. If this is where she would work, and only he and the housekeeper would see her, she may as well turn up in her pyjamas.
She put her coat and bag on one of the armchairs and took a seat at the smaller desk, adjusting the chair to the right height before turning her attention to the Mac. Thankfully, she was used to using one.
He reeled off the password, and Anna tapped it in quickly before grabbing a pencil and writing it down.
‘Here.’ He had risen from his desk and pulled a stack of papers from a tray. ‘The first draft was typed up by the last girl. I’ve made several notes and changes to the first few chapters. You’ll find it stored under Haunting History – file’s called Edit 4.’
Anna scribbled down the details, took the papers without a word and began to peruse them, conscious he still lingered. She bent her head, relieved when he walked back to his desk, then raised her eyes to peer at his back. Several notes and changes were an understatement. Every page was covered in pencil, with arrows and annotations and goodness only knew what else.
‘Why did she leave?’ Anna bit her lip. She hadn’t really meant to ask.
Oliver didn’t turn around. ‘Because I told her to.’
Sensing conversation, if it could be called that, had ended, Anna turned her attention to the papers and before long was completely engrossed. Though unaware of his writing until now, she found herself gripped by the topic – the run-up to the Battle of Sedgemoor – and although she made a perfunctory attempt at starting the edits, she soon turned page after page, unable to stop herself.
‘I was wrong, then.’
Anna started and looked up. Oliver Seymour towered above her once more.
‘Sorry?’
‘I see no evidence you can actually type.’
Warmth rushed into her cheeks. ‘Yes, I can. I mean, I will. Now. Sorry. I got wrapped up in reading ahead.’
‘I’m flattered,’ he said drily. ‘I’m going out. There’s a door key in the desk drawer you can have. Leave me a note of your hours and let yourself out when you’re done for today.’
Anna breathed out slowly as he picked up his jacket and left the room. Her mind buzzed with questions she’d liked to have asked him, such as why he’d been in Aunt Meg’s shed and how he knew his way around the house well enough to know exactly where the fuse box was.
Perhaps he’d mellow with time and she could ask him then? Turning her attention back to her work, Anna had all the amendments to the first few chapters done by late afternoon. There was no further sign of Oliver Seymour, but Mrs Clegg appeared around four with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. Anna consumed them gratefully, and once she’d done all she could, printed out the fresh pages and stacked them neatly.
Logging out, she donned her coat, picked up her bag, and carried the pile of printing over to the large desk under the window. There wasn’t a space anywhere for her to put it without laying the papers on top of something else. Anna leaned forward and placed it instead on the keyboard, but then her eye was caught by the foolscap notepad open to the right-hand side. It bore a long list – further research, she assumed, having now gained the gist of his work – but then she drew in a sharp breath. Clearly written on the bottom left of the page and underlined were the words Follow what shells? Where? Why?
Anna backed away. It must be a coincidence, that’s all.
The light outside had altered. If she wanted to fit a walk in, she’d best hurry, and with relief, she let herself out of the room and made for the front door and freedom.
Anna eyed her Poldark calendar in the kitchen (one of her leaving gifts from work). March hurried its steps, much as the clouds scuttled across the skies, buffeted by the spring winds. Easter loomed on the horizon.
Looking up from studying her bank statement as the boot room door opened, Anna smiled warmly as Phoenix came in with Verity Blue.
‘Alright?’
Folding the statement, Anna put it in a drawer. She’d think about her finances later.
‘You’re early today.’ She crouched down and held a hand out to Verity Blue, who hurried over and took it. ‘Hello, beautiful.’
‘Anny! Cake!’
Anna smiled. ‘Hmm, I think I know my place.’ She ruffled the child’s curls and straightened up. ‘Come on then, let’s see what’s in Verity Blue’s special tin, shall we?’
Sitting at a small table more suited to her height, Verity Blue tucked into the two miniature cupcakes Anna had produced for her, and Phoenix carried the usual crockery over to the pine table as Anna brewed the pot of coffee.
‘Wasson, mate? Feeling at home now?’
‘Absolutely. I love it.’ Anna placed the pot on the table and turned around as the door opened and Mrs Lovelace came in.
‘Where’s your Jean this morning?’
‘Gone up country with a friend.’ Mrs Lovelace took her usual seat, selecting a biscuit from the plate. ‘Wanted a few days away before the emmets get here for the season.’
Anna frowned. ‘Emmets?’
‘Tourists.’ Phoenix grinned. ‘Like you used to be.’
With a laugh, Anna offered the sugar bowl. ‘Whereabouts have they gone, Mrs Lovelace?’
‘Brissle, to see some show. Margie, that’s the friend, she’s been a-wanting to see Cats.’ Mrs Lovelace sniffed as she picked up a spoon. ‘Dunno why. She’s allergic to ’em.’
‘Daniel not here this morning?’ Phoenix glanced out of the window. ‘Didn’t see his van.’
‘He’s finished the outside.’ Anna checked Verity Blue’s feeding cup. ‘Can she have some more?’ Phoenix nodded, and Anna walked over to the sink. ‘He’s coming back next week to do the front door.’
Nicki put her head around the door. ‘I thought I saw people arriving.’
Anna hurried to put the kettle on again as Nicki headed for the table and Phoenix attended to a rather messy Verity Blue, wiping her face and then bringing her to sit on her lap.
‘How’s it going, working for the big man?’ Nicki grinned. ‘Cleggie reckons he’s nursing a broken heart. His wife left him, you know.’
‘They divorced real quick,’ piped up Phoenix.
Anna was puzzled. ‘How do you all know so much about him? I thought he kept himself to himself.’
Nicki grinned. ‘He does. Half the village googled him when he arrived in Polkerran. You’re going to be our best source outside of that. So?’
‘It’s going fine.’ Anna looked around at their expectant faces. ‘Well, he’s engrossed in his work most of the time. I’m not even sure he knows what I look like.’
‘Yes, but what about him? What’s he like?’
Nicki was certainly persistent, and Anna pondered the question. Did she have any idea what Oliver Seymour was really like?
‘Well, he’s certainly not as elderly and decrepit as I was led to believe.’ She threw an amused glance at Phoenix. ‘You said he was old and implied he dressed like an ageing professor.’
‘I think I said he was quite old,’ Phoenix pulled a face. ‘Anyway, he is. He’s got to be in his forties, hasn’t he?’ She snorted. ‘And he wears waistcoats!’
Nicki waggled her eyebrows. ‘That’s considered quite sexy since the England footie coach started doing it.’
Anna’s attention drifted towards Harbourwatch, but then she frowned.
‘I need to keep an eye on the garden. It’s going to be a huge challenge to keep it in order. I was surprised to see it in such good shape with Aunt Meg having been in the home for so long.’
‘I think Oliver Seymour used to do some of it.’ Nicki waved a hand in the direction of the village. ‘I’ve seen him helping out at a few of the gardens on this side of the cove, elderly residents mainly.’
Anna’s interest was piqued. Hadn’t she been wondering about that? ‘Why?’
Nicki shrugged. ‘No idea.’
Phoenix looked up. ‘He befriended Meg when he came to the cove. Probably doing her a favour. Normally, Dad could help, but he’s rammed at the moment, what with spring and everything.’
‘How about Tommy the Boat?’
‘He doesn’t sound like a gardener, Mrs Lovelace.’
‘Retired, young’un.’ The lady rummaged in her pocket, pulling out a tissue. ‘Still does half-hour trips for the emmets in season, but he’ll turn his hand to anything going. He’ll see you’m right.’
‘I’ll get him to call round, Anna.’ Nicki fished out her mobile as it rang and went over to the other side of the room to answer it.
‘Did Ray down the end get your telly sorted?’ Phoenix bit into a biscuit.
Anna smiled. ‘Yes, but the evenings are still pretty lonely.’
‘Why don’t you open up as a B&B?’ Phoenix leaned forward. ‘How many bedrooms have you?’
‘Four I’m not using: three with sea views, plus the bunk room at the back.’ Anna looked at the eager faces round the table. ‘Won’t that upset those already trading?’
Phoenix shook her head. ‘In peak season, there be more people wanting rooms than there are rooms available. The hotel’s too expensive for many, and those that only want one or two nights can’t do the self-catering cottages. There’s only one B&B on the west side now, since Polly and Ken retired and moved up country, and nothing this side of the cove.’
The idea appealed to Anna, and she mulled over what changes she’d need to make and what they might cost.
‘You’m certainly a fair baker.’ Mrs Lovelace smiled kindly at Anna as she tucked the tissue up her sleeve. ‘How’s your cooking, young’un?’
‘Not bad. I can definitely rustle up a good full English.’
‘That be all you need, my lovely.’
Nicki walked back over, pocketing her mobile. ‘Got to go, ladies. There’s a client up at the hotel in a panic over a dye gone wrong.’
Anna started to clear the table once Nicki had gone, with Mrs Lovelace soon after her.
‘D’you remember that summer when I tried to dye my hair blonde and it went green?’ Phoenix picked up Verity Blue’s cup and joined Anna at the sink to rinse it.
Anna grinned at the memory. ‘I’d have been horrified, but you loved it, kept it for the whole season.’
Phoenix chuckled, sweeping Verity Blue into her arms and waving a cheery goodbye. Anna closed the door on them, conscious of a frisson of excitement. Why not turn Westerleigh Cottage into a B&B?
Glancing at the clock, she grabbed her keys and bag and headed out. There was no time to think about it now. It was a mild day and a pleasant walk over to Harbourwatch, and she was enjoying taking in the changes to the village as everyone geared up for the season’s start.
As she crossed the bridge, Anna reflected on her new life. When the locals gathered round her kitchen table, she was in her element, watching them enjoy whatever she’d been baking and entertaining her with amusing anecdotes about village life. But she’d begun to enjoy working at Harbourwatch, too, especially as Oliver’s ever-looming deadline for his manuscript meant more hours. In fact, she’d started going over much earlier, half expecting Oliver to tell her to go away again. So far, he hadn’t.
Anna considered the enigma of Oliver Seymour as she walked through the little town. Despite her initial reservations, they had fallen into a smooth working pattern. At first, she had relished the times when he was out at a meeting or gone to London or Bristol for the day. Lately, however, she found herself happier when he was there. It wasn’t that they chatted – he hadn’t been joking about not wanting a conversationalist – but with Anna’s genuine interest in his work and her blatant enjoyment of it, Oliver seemed content to answer her questions about the book now and again. She merely had to gauge his mood by the day.
Nearing Harbourwatch, Anna glanced at the skies – today, the pale, wispy blue of spring. After work, she would go for a walk along the cliffs before picking up any groceries she needed. She smiled as she reached work, happier than she had been in many years, the future she had given up with Giles now a distant memory.
Exchanging greetings with Old Patrick, the odd-job man at Harbourwatch, Anna let herself into the house, popped her head round the kitchen door to say hello to Mrs Clegg and then headed up the stairs, running her hand along the well-polished banister. Daisy, the daily help, was on the landing arranging some flowers on a side table, and Anna admired them as she passed. It did seem an excessive amount of assistance for one man, even if the house was quite large, especially as Mrs Clegg lived in and was available 24/7 if needed.
Shrugging her bag further onto her shoulder, Anna reached for the door handle. Her curiosity was at its height. If Oliver was in one of his more receptive moods, she might even ask him about it.