…smiled in his sleep, as though these marks of pity and compassion had awakened some pleasant dream of a love and affection he had never known
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist
Anna had persuaded Alex to come for a walk along the cliffs to her favourite cove on Saturday afternoon, and then they enjoyed a meal at the large granite table on the patio. Anna had found her attention drawn repeatedly to Harbourwatch, and she wondered what Oliver did with his weekends. Mrs Clegg had implied he kept working, and for some reason, it made her feel sad.
Alex was uninterested in Anna’s dilemma over the cottage, dismissing the talk of another will with a shrug. When she told him she intended to go through all her aunt’s papers to see if she could find it, he had merely laughed and wished her luck. She would need it.
By Sunday, the fine weather had passed and thick clouds hung over the cove with a threat of rain in the air, so they ate breakfast at the kitchen table, but the clatter of the letterbox drew Alex into the hall in search of the financial pages of the Sunday newspaper.
‘What’s the History Man doing?’
Anna looked over as Alex came back into the room holding the paper.
‘What do you mean?’
Alex gestured back along the hallway. ‘Just seen him in the driveway.’
Anna had to quell a sudden urge to go and talk to Oliver. ‘Oh. He said he’d drop the boxes back – he took some to look through.’
She got up and began to clear the breakfast things.
‘Sounds highly suspect to me. Why’s he poking his nose into your business?’ Alex dropped into his chair at the table, but Anna didn’t respond. It would be nice if Alex had some interest in her concerns. She bit her lip; how horribly disloyal of her.
‘Can you clear this end first?’ Alex gestured at his used table setting and waved the newspaper, and Anna was hit by a flashback to life with Giles when she’d stayed over at his for the night.
She bit back on the temptation to tell him to do it himself, and by the time she’d finished cleaning up and been out into the garden, ostensibly to pick some fresh flowers for the vases but really to check if there was any sign of Oliver – there wasn’t, merely the two boxes, as promised, on the front doorstep – Alex had gone up to shower and dress.
The pretty B&B sign swung gently in the breeze as Anna headed back into the house carrying the first box, the flowers lying on the top. ‘Please let me be able to stay,’ she whispered under her breath.
By the time she went back into the house with the second box, Alex lounged on the settle in the hallway, still holding the newspaper.
‘Time I was off.’
‘Oh!’ Anna looked at her watch. ‘It’s not even midday. I thought you were going back this evening?’ She’d planned to cook them a traditional roast for lunch, something she never bothered with for herself. Cooking for one was never much fun.
‘Want to avoid all the weekenders heading back later in the day.’
‘Okay.’ Was part of her relieved? What was going on with her? Anna summoned a smile. ‘See you next Friday, then.’
‘I’ll call you. Might be late getting down here.’ He tossed the paper aside and got to his feet, taking the box and putting it on the console table. Then, he caught her close, kissing her thoroughly, and Anna melted into his arms. No, of course she wasn’t relieved. This was right. This felt heavenly. She held onto Alex’s shoulders as he drew the kiss to a close, then dropped a final one on the tip of her nose.
‘And don’t take in any guests. I’ve a fancy for trying out some of those other bedrooms.’ He winked at her, and she shook her head at him.
‘I’m trying to get a business going here, Alex. Weekends are more likely to bring people.’
He opened the door, then looked back over his shoulder. ‘I’m serious, Anna. I’m not prepared to share you.’
He blew her a kiss, and she turned away as the door closed and picked up the discarded flowers. She had no intention of taking bookings for the next weekend. Oliver’s book had to be with his agent by Saturday latest so they could read it over the weekend, and if this past week was anything to go by, the following one would be long and busy. He’d already said he might need her to work late on Friday, and she’d willingly agreed.
Looking around the kitchen as she filled a vase with water, Anna sighed. Alone again, naturally. Then, she hurried over to the boot room door.
‘I’m so sorry, baby.’
Heathcliff shot into the room, mewing indignantly, and she scooped him up and let him snuggle up against her, purring loudly.
‘I have the day free now, Heathcliff. Let’s make a start on another of those boxes, shall we?’
The notices had gone up in the village for the fundraising sale for the Christmas lights, and Anna filled a bag for life with a few bits and pieces from around the house before fetching the handbags she had removed from Aunt Meg’s room. She started to check they were empty, and as she picked up the last one, Nicki’s head appeared round the boot room door.
‘Last call for any bric-a-brac or accessories.’
‘Perfect timing.’ Anna held up the bag. ‘I hope they go to good homes. They’re a bit old-fashioned, but well cared for. I’ve kept a couple, ones I remember Aunt Meg using.’
‘Vintage is all the rage these days.’ Gathering up the bags, Nicki dropped them into her bin bag and picked up the bag for life, and Anna waved her off before resuming her search through the next box in the study, making her way through several piles of letters, many of which were ones she had sent to Aunt Meg over the years. There were other letters of business, letters exchanged with friends outside of Cornwall and some old bills, but everything so far was dated further back than two years ago.
Despite being so busy at work and exhausted when she got home, Anna continued the search every night, breaking off now and again to browse one of the diaries for light relief. She thought she’d had a breakthrough one evening. As she turned the final few pages of a three-year-old diary, Aunt Meg mentioned a solicitor’s appointment.
Anna made a quick call to Wendy the next day, but when she called her back, it was only to confirm there was nothing on the file that suggested Meg Stratfield had been in contact with them around that time, nor was there any record of an appointment.
She skim-read the most recent diary she could find, other than the one found in Aunt Meg’s handbag. There were hints of what was to come in her writing – a certain paranoia growing. The locals were right about someone trying to persuade her to sell the cottage, but she didn’t say who it was. There were comments like He was here again, He won’t stay away, even though I’ve told him I’ll never sell.
Her heart breaking for Aunt Meg and her anxiety, Anna felt upset and unsettled. Had she made the new will under pressure? With her health in decline and her mind starting to weaken, had she succumbed to this man in the end and made the property over to him on her death? Would that stand up in court if it could be proven she had not been fully of sound mind at the time? Yet more questions, and not a single answer in sight.
Friday soon came around, and knowing she needed to work late, Anna had gone home around six o’clock to prepare a meal for Alex and leave it for him to heat up.
‘Smells good.’
She looked up in surprise from laying the table for one.
‘You’re early!’
Alex walked over and put his arms around her. ‘Meeting cancelled this afternoon. Decided to make the most of it.’
He bent his head to kiss her, but Anna broke away from him after a few seconds. ‘I can’t stop long, Alex. I’ve made coq au vin and it’s in the oven now, along with some rosemary and garlic potatoes. There’s bread in the bin.’
She hurried over to get a glass for him, but when she turned around, he hadn’t moved.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Back to work.’ Anna walked over and placed the wine glass on the table, then touched his arm when he didn’t look at her. ‘Alex? I did forewarn you when we spoke in the week, said I had to work Friday evening.’
‘What, all of it?’
‘Possibly. The book has to go off to Oliver’s agent tomorrow, and—’
‘Fine.’ He strode over to the door into the hall. ‘I’ll see you when I see you.’
‘But where are you going? I made you dinner.’ She gestured helplessly towards the oven, but Alex had gone.
‘Alex?’ Anna hurried after him, and he stopped by the front door.
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry, okay? Oliver needs me.’
Alex whirled about. ‘Really? And I don’t?’
Anna drew in a short breath, studied his handsome features and, for the first time, found them lacking. His mouth could be quite cruel sometimes, his eyes without warmth. For all Oliver’s brusqueness, his eyes were never cold. For all his mocking brow and liking his own way, he did at least consider others.
‘Fine.’ Alex turned away and walked out of the door, and Anna ran after him.
‘Alex, please.’ He stopped again, only he didn’t turn around, and she walked round to face him, squaring her shoulders. ‘You know it’s not like that. My job is important to me, especially with the delays I’ve had setting up the B&B.’ Anna spoke firmly, confident she was in the right. ‘Surely you understand that? I mean, your work often takes precedence, doesn’t it?’ She waited, her insides doing somersaults the envy of any self-respecting acrobat, but her mind was clear.
He held her gaze rigidly for a moment, then released a huff of breath. ‘Fair comment.’ He smiled reluctantly, then pulled her to him, stroking her hair as she laid her head on his chest. ‘I don’t like sharing you, be it guests or Saint Seymour, the History Man.’
Anna raised her head. ‘Don’t—’
‘Okay, okay.’ Alex raised a hand as he released her. ‘I won’t call him that.’
‘It’s a one-off. He has to get the manuscript off this weekend, and he needs my help.’
Alex raised a cynical brow. ‘All weekend?’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s only this evening, and perhaps a few hours tomorrow. I’m sorry I’m not there to share dinner with you, but we’ll have tomorrow night instead. We could even go out.’
‘We’ll see.’ Alex kissed her briefly. ‘Drop me a WhatsApp when you’re free tomorrow.’
Anna frowned. ‘You’re not staying?’
Alex opened the car door and put his bag on the back seat. ‘May as well go and see the parents as I’m at a loose end.’
Anna watched him go, then glanced at her watch. It was nearly seven. She went back into the house, switched off the oven, grabbed her bag and keys and, leaving the outside light on, hurried down the lane. Luckily, the ferry had come in.
She focused on Harbourwatch as the little boat chugged its way across the cove, keen to get back and stay as late as need be. For Alex, she barely spared another thought.
Mrs Clegg shook her head as Anna passed her on the stairs carrying down an untouched tray of food.
‘It’s not right. Master Oliver hasn’t eaten a thing all day.’
‘He’ll survive.’ Anna hurried up the stairs. She could happily have eaten the meal Oliver had shunned. She was famished!
Oliver seemed remarkably calm when she entered the room, his attention fixed on the printout on his desk. Anna took in the breadth of his shoulders, and then the back of his neck and the gap between his hair and the whiteness of his collar.
Then, she swallowed quickly. Why on earth had she had the sudden urge to reach out and touch him?
This wouldn’t do at all!
‘Oliver?’ Her voice came out in a squeak, and she cleared her throat. ‘You didn’t eat anything. Do you want some coffee?’
Half expecting the customary lack of response or a grunt at being disturbed, Anna was surprised when he looked up and swung around in his seat.
‘You’re back.’ He said nothing more, a faint smile on his lips, and an inexplicable feeling swept through Anna as she took a step backwards. With his blue eyes fixed on her in such a way, it felt as though they were suddenly very close to each other, and heat invaded her cheeks.
‘I’ll pop down and fetch some.’ She turned for the door and fled down the stairs, unsure what had just happened, then shook her head. Ridiculous.
Mrs Clegg was nowhere to be seen but had left a pot of coffee on the stove and a tray laid out with the necessary, and Anna was back outside the door to the office within minutes.
‘Come on, Anna. It’s only Oliver,’ she admonished herself as she nudged the door open with the tray.
Only he was no longer at his desk.
‘Well, that was a waste of time, wasn’t it?’ She addressed Dougal, who had raised his head when she came back into the room.
‘No.’
‘Oh!’ Anna turned around, the tray still in her hands, only to find Oliver standing by the bookcase, an open book in his hands.
He walked over, tucked the book under his arm and relieved her of the tray, placing it on the table.
‘Do you want some?’ He picked up the pot.
‘Yes please.’
A kick of caffeine would certainly help, though she thought longingly of the wine chilling in the fridge at home. Anna checked her mobile as Oliver poured. No conciliatory text from Alex. Did he really not understand?
To her surprise, it didn’t worry her the way it would have done a few weeks ago. She wasn’t blind to the fact that he only seemed to have one interest in her.
‘Sex,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘Sorry?’ Oliver raised a brow as he handed her a mug, and she felt the heat from earlier steal into her cheeks again.
‘Checks. I said “checks”.’ Anna waved a hand at the next chapter on her desk. ‘I mean, I need to do some checks before I give this one back to you.’
Oliver said nothing, merely turned back to his desk and resumed his reading. Throwing Dougal a culpable look, she retook her own seat.
Two hours later, the clock on the landing chimed ten, and Anna looked up owlishly. Eyes scratchy with tiredness, her back ached from hunching over the keyboard. She gripped her stomach as it let out a rumble of protest.
‘Go home.’
Anna turned in her seat. Oliver still had his back to her, tapping into his laptop.
‘Are we done?’
‘You are.’
‘But I stayed so I could help!’ Anna got to her feet and walked over to stand beside him, only this time he didn’t look up, simply continued to type.
‘You did.’
‘So, is it ready? Will you get it off okay tomorrow morning? Do you want me to—’
Pushing back in his chair, Oliver swung around to look up at her. ‘No. Possibly. And no.’
Yet again, no ‘thank you’. Anna drew in an impatient breath. She wanted to go home so badly, so why didn’t she just leave? Tiredness and frustration with herself battled within her. Frustration won.
‘Why are you like this?’
Oliver raised a brow. ‘Like what?’
‘So… so abrupt sometimes.’
‘Why use more words than are necessary? Did you fail to understand me?’
‘No, but— You’re impossible!’
Oliver said nothing, turning back to his desk. Anna suppressed the urge to stamp on his foot, followed swiftly by the wish he would change his mind, ask her to stay longer with him.
Anna snatched up her coat and bag and hurried from the room, throwing a quiet goodnight at him. She doubted he heard her, but she had to get out of there.
What had happened to her? Why did she have these strange thoughts about someone who clearly had no interest in her – or any relationship? Wasn’t she happy – over the moon – to be dating Alex after all this time?
Despite her tiredness, Anna all but raced through the town. The ferry had stopped for the night, and she hurried over the bridge and along the lane towards Westerleigh, her mind a whirl of confusing thoughts.
Unable to face eating so late at night, Anna curled up on the sofa with Heathcliff and a glass of wine, trying to unwind, and most of all, trying not to think. Soon immersed in Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend, she almost succeeded.
Once ready for bed, she walked over to her window and pulled the curtain aside. There was a light on in the office at Harbourwatch, and she bit her lip. Oliver worked too hard.
Anna struggled to get to sleep that night, and several times she got up to stare across the water. The light still shone from the windows. Oliver hadn’t even closed the shutters.
Up early, she fed Heathcliff and hurried back around the cove to Harbourwatch. It was gone seven, but she knew there would be some last-minute changes to make and she could get a head start before Oliver appeared.
Dougal and Thumper were upon her immediately, and she calmed them as best she could, conscious the house was silent apart from their enthusiastic greeting, but the lamps in the hallway were still on. Surely Oliver wasn’t still writing?
Hurrying up the stairs, Anna stopped outside the door to the office, her hand hovering above the handle. Why did her heart pound like this? She leaned her head against the wood. There was no sound within of tapping keys.
She peered into the room, and then her heart lurched unexpectedly. Oliver was slumped over his desk, the light from the desk lamp spilling over his dark hair and broad shoulders. Anna hurried over to him, the animals now in her wake. Was he ill? Had someone attacked him? There was no sign of blood…
Get a grip, you idiot. This isn’t an episode of Midsomer Murders! Anna bit back on rising amusement, then leaned forward to switch off the lamp. The sunlight streamed in through the bay window, and she blinked.
Oliver’s shoulders were moving with each breath.
Should she wake him? How could she without touching him, and why was she so wary of doing so? Anna walked over to the window. What was this reluctance? All she had to do was give him a shake. Perhaps she should leave the room and then come back in making lots of noise…
‘Anna…’
‘Oh, you’re awake!’ Filled with relief she swung around.
Only he wasn’t.