It is not everyone, who has your passion for dead leaves
Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
Mrs Clegg made a swift recovery in hospital and was soon discharged into the care of her niece, who came over from Falmouth to collect her.
Anna started to go over to Harbourwatch earlier still, so there was time to deal with the book edits, start on the itinerary and prepare some lunch. Busy liaising with various people on Oliver’s behalf, and trying to be a calming influence when his patience wore thin, she enjoyed herself.
As Thursday lunchtime approached, Anna hurried down the stairs, stacked the coffee things in the dishwasher and opened the fridge. Thankfully, she’d made a quiche the day before with Oliver in mind. She’d rustle up a small salad and once the quiche was warming in the oven, she’d heat up the home-made soup she’d also brought over in a flask. With a couple of rolls, that should suffice.
They had eaten the soup in silence, but as Anna cleared the bowls away and brought over the quiche, she felt the need to break it.
‘What brought you to Polkerran?’
‘My car.’
‘Very funny. You know what I mean.’
Oliver got up and fetched the bowl of salad, placing it in the centre of the table, and Anna cut a slice of quiche and passed the plate to him as he retook his seat.
‘Enlighten me.’
‘Why pick this particular coastal village? Cornwall is full of wonderful boltholes for someone wanting to shut themselves away to write, and there are plenty more remote than this one. If you didn’t want to socialise or put up with the locals’ gossip, why not rent a barn conversion up on Bodmin Moor?’
‘I’m not averse to civilisation.’
With a smirk, Anna piled salad on her plate. ‘Just people. And conversation.’
Oliver took the bowl from her. ‘This is a conversation, isn’t it?’
Yes, but hard won! Typically, silence fell as they ate their lunch, and when they had cleared the table and filled the dishwasher, he held the kitchen door open for her and then followed her along the hall.
As they mounted the stairs, however, he said, ‘A connection brought me here.’
Anna cast him a curious glance as they reached the landing. ‘And this house is ideal, isn’t it? So cut off from the world on one side by the high wall and the sea on the other. Perfect for a writer.’
Oliver said nothing as they returned to their respective desks.
‘Do you know the owner of this house, then?’
‘No.’ Oliver started to type on his laptop and with a shake of her head, Anna turned to her own. Conversation duly ended.
Friday commenced in similar fashion, with a manic morning in the office, enhanced by Oliver’s need to leave after lunch to fetch Mrs Clegg home from her recuperation in Falmouth.
‘You like history.’
Anna eyed Oliver across the kitchen table when they paused for lunch. He’d insisted she join him again, though he’d drawn the line at her doing any more catering and had sent Daisy off to get sandwiches for them.
As usual with Oliver, it wasn’t a question, but Anna chose to answer it all the same.
‘It was my favourite subject at school, and I never lost my interest for it.’ She paused as Oliver topped up her glass with some of Mrs Clegg’s home-made lemonade. ‘I wish I’d studied it at uni, but I went down the English Lit route instead.’
For a moment they munched quietly on their sandwiches. She wanted to ask Oliver about his own love of the subject: what had set him off in the first place? What had surprised him most in all his research around his writing? Did he plan to write any more books?
‘I can sense the myriad of questions on the tip of your tongue.’
Taking a sip of her lemonade, Anna pulled a face. ‘I’ve always had a readable expression. I’m not very good at concealment, I’m afraid.’
Oliver got to his feet. ‘Concealment is not something I want in anyone around me.’ A strange look crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant. ‘Tea?’
He picked up the kettle, and Anna shook her head. What had that look been for? Had he been bitten by deceit before?
‘So can I ask a question?’
He leaned against the worktop. ‘No.’
Fine!
‘I’ll make myself a hot chocolate.’
A grunt was the only response to this as Oliver filled the kettle and switched it on, and Anna busied herself.
‘It will make you sleepy.’
She looked up. He nodded towards the hot chocolate in her hand, and Anna smirked. ‘No, it won’t. I drink it all the time. It’s my secret indulgence. Doesn’t everyone have one?’
He didn’t answer, and she busied herself clearing the table as Oliver made his tea, and once they both had a full mug, she followed him out of the kitchen.
‘Come with me.’
To her surprise, he didn’t go straight back upstairs to the office but along the main hallway to a part of the house she’d never seen before, fetching up by a pair of panelled doors.
Mystified, Anna followed Oliver into the room, then gasped.
‘It’s like an antiques shop!’ Oliver looked a little sheepish, and Anna’s heart went out to him. ‘This is your secret indulgence.’
He didn’t answer her, gesturing around the room, and taking it as an invitation, she wandered around, admiring the cabinets of silver – things she often saw on her favourite antiques shows such as snuff boxes, pin cushions, card cases and several things she couldn’t identify.
‘What’s that?’
Oliver came to stand beside her, then tugged the glass door open and reached for the item, handing it to Anna, who laid it on her palm.
‘It’s a nutmeg grater.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered, and to her surprise, Oliver laughed.
‘Why are you whispering?’
‘Because of its beauty and age.’
‘You know it’s old? How old?’
Anna all but rolled her eyes at him. ‘Of course I know it’s old. You wouldn’t have it here if it wasn’t. As for how old…’ She hazarded a guess. ‘Early 1800s?’
Oliver raised a brow and took it from her. ‘Not bad. It’s George III. What about this?’
He handed her an unusually shaped implement, long and narrow, not a spoon exactly, and she weighed it on her hand, then looked for a hallmark.
‘It’s a marrow scoop. What can you see?’
Anna screwed up her eyes. It was tiny, but she could make out an anchor.
‘Birmingham!’ She announced with satisfaction.
Oliver took it from her and replaced it in the cabinet. ‘Do you know about antiques?’
‘Not really.’ Anna strolled further on, aware he followed her, her hand trailing across side tables, fine chairs and a bookcase filled with what were clearly early editions of novels. ‘I love watching the TV programmes. You know: Bargain Hunt, Flog It!, Antiques Road Trip.’
‘I enjoy them too – but more behind the scenes.’
Anna spun around. ‘You do work for them? I’ve never seen you on screen.’
‘I’m not an expert, I’m a historian. I get consulted from time to time on various stories but never on camera. Not for them, anyway.’
Anna smirked at him. ‘I’m surprised you love these inanimate objects so much if you don’t like concealment. Don’t you find things of historical interest often have secret pasts?’
Oliver walked past her and picked up a heavy object from a table. ‘Like this?’
‘Oh!’ Anna let out a small gasp. He held up a very old pair of handcuffs, fashioned from rustic iron. ‘Very 50 Shades. I bet they could tell a story.’
‘Precisely.’ He put them back in place. ‘Well, this is it.’ He waved a hand around the room. ‘I couldn’t bear to put it all in storage.’
No wonder he needed such a big house.
‘I expect there will be antiques up at Tremayne Manor.’
Oliver raised a brow as they turned for the doors. ‘You’ve not been inside?’
Anna came to a halt as he opened the door and moved aside for her to go through. ‘Never had the chance until now.’
He followed her along the hallway towards the stairs. ‘And now?’
‘I’m going to a dinner there tomorrow night. It’ll be my first glimpse.’
Oliver said no more as they returned to the office, but once inside, Anna eyed him with curiosity. ‘Why did you show your antiques to me?’
He looked surprised as he sank into his chair. ‘You have an appreciation for history.’
Smiling to herself, Anna took her own chair. He was an enigma, her boss, but every now and again, he had a certain appeal.
‘Oliver?’
There was no reply, and Anna turned to face her computer. Business as usual, then.
‘What?’
She spun around in her chair to find he’d turned too. ‘I was curious…’
‘You always are.’
‘I know. Bad habit. Sorry. But why is the Birmingham assay mark an anchor? I mean, it’s about as far from the sea as you can get.’
‘That may be so now. In the past it was a vast port.’
Staring at him, Anna tried to think back to her history and geography lessons at school but couldn’t recall anything of the sort. ‘How… I mean, what happened to…’
‘The sea?’ Oliver shook his head and turned away again. ‘So gullible. It’s thought it’s because Matthew Boulton – who fought for Birmingham and Sheffield to have their own marks – stayed at the Crown & Anchor tavern in London while lobbying for Royal Assent to the Assay Bill.’
‘So that’s why Sheffield has a crown?’
‘Precisely.’
‘It’s a good job the Slug & Lettuce didn’t exist back then.’
Oliver made no response to this, and Anna smiled again as she turned back to her keyboard. Yes, she was right.
For all his abruptness, she quite liked Oliver Seymour.
Oliver set off at two thirty to pick up Mrs Clegg and hadn’t returned by the time Anna left for the day. She’d finally got confirmation from Alex of the time for the dinner party, but when it had come to anything else, he’d been vague, saying it was like any supper, nothing too fussy. What did that mean?
When it came time to get ready on Saturday, Anna went up to her room and eyed her reflection. She knew she wasn’t bad-looking. She had large eyes, smooth and clear skin and a good figure, though probably a bit too curvy for the current fashion. But somehow, she’d always felt very ‘girl next door’, so how on earth was she supposed to turn into the elegant, sophisticated sort of model she knew Alex admired in the space of two hours?
Anna released a huff of laughter. Was she really thinking for one minute a man like him would ever consider dating her? But he had invited her, hadn’t he? And he had kissed her…
The memory of the sudden pressure of those lips against hers turned Anna’s insides to mush, and then she gasped. He’d probably meant to kiss her cheek. What if she’d moved her head when he wasn’t expecting it? This galling thought was interrupted by a voice from downstairs, calling, ‘Hey, anyone home?’
Nicki! Anna hurried down the stairs to find her peering round the kitchen door.
‘What are you doing here? I thought it was quiz night down The Ship.’
Nicki was an avid team member and proudly claimed never to have missed a quiz night.
‘Doesn’t kick off until nine. I’m here to help.’ She waved the bag she carried and followed Anna down the hall into the kitchen.
‘With what?’
‘With you.’ Nicki eyed her up and down keenly. ‘Yep. You sure need it.’
Anna pouted. ‘Is it really that bad?’
‘You’re perfectly lovely as you are.’ Nicki grinned. ‘But is the divine Mr Tremayne going to be there?’
Anna couldn’t halt the blush from stealing into her cheeks, and Nicki grinned. ‘No time to waste then. Go shower and wash that hair, but don’t dry it. I’m in charge of your styling tonight.’
‘But he said it was an informal dinner party with a few friends.’
Nicki pulled a face. ‘Not sure he’s got that many friends, but it will be rammed with people, and even though the food is likely to be informal, the people, not so much. The women especially will be dressed as if it’s Lady’s Day at Ascot.’ She chuckled. ‘Though perhaps minus the fascinators.’
‘I thought you didn’t approve of Alex.’
Nicki’s face softened. ‘Pay me no mind, Anna. He probably needs the love of a good woman to sort him out. He’s a bit of a ladies’ man, but that’s all.’ She smiled. ‘Now, let’s get to work.’
‘I really don’t think—’
‘Good. Best that you don’t. Off you trot.’ Nicki was clearly in ‘mother’ mode as she ushered Anna towards the door and began unpacking her bag.
An hour and a half later, Nicki admired her handiwork. She hadn’t allowed Anna to look in the mirror once.
‘Not bad, even if I do say so myself.’
Anna looked up from staring at her nails. They felt strangely unlike her own, which they should, because they weren’t. Nicki had taken one look at Anna’s short, neat nails and tutted.
‘Not a chance you’ll hook him with these babies. He’s all about glamour, love, not efficiency.’
‘What if they come off?’
‘They won’t. That’s an industrial-strength glue I’ve used.’
Anna’s mouth formed a round O. ‘But how do I take them off when I want to?’
‘I’ll tell you about it another time. Come on, we haven’t got long, and you need to get dressed. What are you wearing?’
‘Can’t I look at myself yet?’
‘No. You can look two minutes before going out the door.’
‘But then it will be too late to change anything!’
‘Precisely.’ Nicki beamed at her and Anna raised a hand to the waves dancing against her cheeks.
‘I thought you were using your straighteners to give me that smooth, glossy mane I’ve always coveted.’
Nicki shook her head as they left the room. ‘All the women will look like clones. Long hair, straightened to within an inch of its life. You need to stand out.’
Anna’s step faltered as they reached the stairs. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes.’ Nicki urged her onwards. ‘Now show me what you’ve chosen to knock Alex dead.’
A quick inspection of the black trousers and cream striped shirt and a roll of Nicki’s eyes was enough to warn Anna that something else would be pulled out of the bag of tricks.