The distance is nothing when one has a motive
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
It was early afternoon on the Friday when Anna ended a call with Alex, dropping her phone onto the bed. It was no surprise he wasn’t coming down again this weekend. Too much work, he said. She didn’t believe him for a second.
Perhaps he was fed up of the journey to Cornwall after a hard week’s work? Maybe she should again try suggesting she go up to town? Then she almost laughed out loud. Even with her propensity for dreaming, she knew where she and Alex were headed.
Getting to her feet, Anna walked over to the window to look at the view – one she never tired of – but instead of gazing at the open seas beyond the mouth of the cove, she was drawn instead to study Harbourwatch, and a smile touched her lips. Oliver was a strange mixture of parts: taciturn, always wanting his own way, but he was also a kind, considerate man. She missed him. Anna turned away from the view, suppressing a desire to call him. He’d hardly appreciate it.
She scanned through his itinerary in her mind. With the first half of his tour over, he was due to spend the weekend with friends in Glasgow. She could hardly intrude on his free time. Besides, Oliver being Oliver, he’d have his mobile switched off.
Anna picked up her phone before heading downstairs. Was she feeling lonely again, now her weekends stretched before her, empty apart from anonymous guests? Or did she miss Oliver when she popped over to the office for a few hours? The memory of his face when he’d returned to the office rushed into her head. He never bothered with thank yous; his touch against her skin had been so gentle.
Involuntarily, Anna’s hand rose to her cheek as an inexplicable flutter flickered through her again, a warm sensation, followed quickly by sadness at knowing he would be away for another week.
‘Enough.’ She admonished out loud. ‘Find yourself something to do, for goodness’ sake!’
She hurried down the stairs, thankful the doorbell chimed as she reached the hall. Some of her weekend guests had arrived.
Wandering into the study sometime later, Anna surveyed the boxes she had now been through, stacked once more against the far wall. Was it really, as Alex had said all along, a wild goose chase?
She looked around the room, more than a little despondent. She needed caffeine. Once the kettle had boiled, Anna wandered back into the study. Perhaps if she went back through the diaries preceding this last one, the name of this faceless man would be mentioned? A disturbing thought, and she shuddered. No. No diaries today. She spent the next few hours getting lost in organising the boxes she’d already searched through, before suddenly noticing the time.
‘Time for some supper,’ she called over to Heathcliff as she returned to the kitchen, who raised his head, then stretched on his window cushion before jumping down.
She fed the kitten, eyed the fridge’s contents, then shut the door. She felt out of sorts and in no mood for cooking. Pulling on her jacket, she headed out and down into the town, joining the queue at Colin the Cod’s. Clutching the warm package to her chest, Anna inhaled the comfort of fattening food as she walked back home, her eyes on Harbourwatch across the cove.
She hated seeing it with no lights on, especially the office and what she knew to be Oliver’s room. A sadness she couldn’t account for filled her for a moment, and she sniffed as she opened the gate to Westerleigh Cottage.
‘Hey, Anna, wait!’
Spinning around, she saw Nicki hurrying out of her gate, waving a white envelope.
‘Glad I saw you passing. I was going to come round with this.’ She held the envelope out to Anna, who took it instinctively.
‘Turned up in a zip pocket in one of those handbags of Meg’s. Hasn’t been opened, but it’s so old now, doubt it’s important. Thought you ought to have it all the same.’ She stopped, then touched Anna gently on the arm. ‘Are you okay?’
Slowly, Anna raised her eyes to Nicki. Her throat tightened, her insides clenched. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She summoned a smile. ‘Thanks for this. I’ll see what it is.’
Nicki waved a hand as she turned back home, and in a daze, Anna pushed aside her gate, hurried to open the door and closed it firmly, falling back against it. The aroma of chips no longer tempted her. All she could think of was the sealed envelope in her other hand. It bore Aunt Meg’s name and address, typewritten. There was a franking mark for a legal firm in London, and the date was some two years ago.
Unsure whether she even wanted to open the envelope, Anna hurried down the hall to the kitchen, dropped the parcel of food on the worktop and, before further doubt could take hold, tore it open. Her mouth moved silently as she perused the words, her heart sinking.
Why had Miss Stratfield not returned, duly signed and witnessed, the will she had asked them to prepare? Would she please contact them as a matter of urgency?
Anna sank back in her seat. What should she do? If only Oliver was here… She had hoped the letter might give her some answers, but all it raised was more questions. She glanced at her watch, then tugged her phone from her pocket and dialled the legal firm’s number: the answerphone was pleasantly voiced, but unhelpful. She’d have to wait until Monday morning.
Wriggling out of her coat, Anna read the letter through again. Brief as it was, she did have proof now. Proof a second will was drawn up. And there was someone to contact about it at last, though why a London firm was involved was a complete mystery.
An hour later, changed into her favourite loungewear and nursing a large glass of wine – probably her third, but she’d lost count – Anna sat cross-legged on the sofa in the kitchen, Heathcliff curled up at her side. She felt decidedly squiffy, despite having finally eaten her supper.
Anna grabbed her glass and drained it, then closed her eyes as the liquid slid down her taut throat. It was the proof she’d dreaded finding but had known she had to seek. And if Westerleigh turned out not to be hers, who could it belong to?
Then, she opened her eyes and sat up. It had to be here! The newer will had to be in the house. This company had clearly drawn it up. Mrs Lovelace had said she witnessed it nearly two years ago. What had stopped Aunt Meg from sending it back? Perhaps she had become too disorientated or forgetful by then? Anna would never know. But it had to be here somewhere! If only she knew where else to search. If only Alex hadn’t let her down again – he could have helped her look…
Anna yawned widely, then glanced at her watch: close to midnight. She ought to go to bed; her head was a pile of mush. She picked up her phone. Should she message him? Would he even answer?
Chewing on her bottom lip, Anna got unsteadily to her feet. She needed water. Ten minutes later, perched on the edge of her bed in her pyjamas, she drank thirstily from her glass, then patted the bed for Heathcliff to join her. He kneaded the pillow next to Anna’s for a moment before curling up in his customary position at the foot of the bed, and she kicked off her slippers and got in.
For a moment, she lay there, convinced the wine and her tiredness would bring sleep quickly, but within a few minutes she sat up again and reached for her phone.
Tapping a quick line, she hit ‘send’ before she could change her mind, then fell back against the pillows, drifting into a wine-fuelled sleep.
Sunday wasn’t the best morning for Anna. She’d had a disturbed night, full of inexplicable dreams, and Heathcliff, fed up with her tossing and turning, had given up around four o’clock and moved to the windowsill. When she finally woke properly, unrefreshed and with a pounding head, she had a vague feeling she’d done something she shouldn’t but couldn’t for the life of her think what it was.
Had she phoned Alex in her tipsy state and demanded he come and help her? How awful if she had! She burrowed through the tousled sheets to find her phone. Damn. Flat battery.
Once breakfast for her guests ended, and Anna saw them on their way, she took her pounding head into the study and sank into the chair by the desk. The letter from the London solicitors lay there, taunting her, the words etched on her mind.
She looked around the room slowly, unable to move quickly in her delicate state. The will had to be there, somewhere – except she’d been through everything! She picked up the letter and put it into the latest diary she’d been reading and placed it in the desk drawer. She couldn’t call these solicitors until Monday anyway. Better use of her time would be to strip the two rooms that had been in use.
Forcing down a weak cup of tea, the only thing she could face, she walked over to where her phone lay charging and picked it up. She’d better check whether she’d tried to call Alex. The fact he hadn’t responded didn’t bother her; she didn’t want to see or speak to anyone, and—
The doorbell intruded, but she decided to ignore it. Whoever it was could go away. Only they didn’t. This time, they rapped the door several times in quick succession, and with a growl of frustration, Anna padded down the hall, her phone still in her hand.
A glance at herself in the mirror confirmed this wasn’t the best time for callers, and she opened the door with reluctance, peering round its edge.
Oliver stood on the doorstep.
Anna’s eyes widened, the door falling open as her hand dropped to her side. She’d been so surprised, so relieved to see him, she’d nearly thrown herself at him.
‘But – but you’re in Glasgow.’
Oliver merely raised a brow.
‘I don’t understand.’ Anna put a hand to her still pounding head. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You sent me a text.’
A surge of dismay swept through Anna. No! She’d sent a drunken text to Oliver? Of all people!
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. Her throat felt tight, and she swallowed hard on it. ‘But you only switch your phone on if you’re hoping to—’
He held up his phone to show Anna the screen, and she read her text from the previous night. She clenched her own phone tightly, her skin paling.
‘Felt pretty certain Heathcliff wasn’t pining for some seaweed.’
Anna’s embarrassment was profound, but it wasn’t the typos in the message, it was the two little kisses at the end. What had she been thinking?
‘I’m so sorry. You’re in the middle of your lecture tour.’
‘Thank you for letting me know.’ There was something different about Oliver; he seemed less confident than usual. ‘Er… is Tremayne here?’
‘Alex? Oh, no. He… well, never mind.’
‘I didn’t like to call in the middle of the night, but I sent you a message.’
Anna held up her own phone. ‘It died in the night.’ Might have been less embarrassing if I had.
‘Any chance I can come in? It’s been a long drive.’
‘Of course. Sorry.’ Anna stepped aside so he could walk in, then followed him down to the kitchen. ‘How come you drove?’
‘I decided to hire a car for the weekend.’
‘Oh. I’ll make some coffee.’
She busied herself with preparing the drinks, her pounding head worse than ever. What had she done? All the preparation, all the commitments…
‘What time did you leave?’
Oliver stretched his long arms above his head, then took off his jacket. ‘About nine hours ago.’
Feeling worse than ever, Anna poured the coffee and walked over to hand him a mug. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’
His fingers brushed hers as he took the mug, and Anna’s skin tingled.
‘But what about the rest of the tour?’
Oliver walked over to look out of the window, and Anna followed him. ‘Oliver?’
‘I have to go back tomorrow, but I managed to move a couple of things. Today, as you know, was a rest day.’
‘It’s too far!’
‘All I need is a good night’s sleep. And plenty of this.’ He raised the mug. ‘Now tell me the awful mews.’
The tablets Oliver had produced worked quickly, and Anna started to feel more herself, especially after he almost force-fed her some dry toast and more tea. He’d been particularly interested in her account of someone trying to pressure Aunt Meg to sell up, once he’d read the solicitor’s letter, and, leaving him to peruse some of the more recent diaries, Anna excused herself to get a shower.
She took care in drying her hair, added a small amount of make-up and tugged on her best jeans. Now she felt less exposed, more able to be positive.
When she returned to the kitchen, however, the diaries lay discarded on the table and Oliver had the fridge door open.
‘What are you doing?’
He didn’t answer, so she walked over to stand beside him. ‘Oliver?’
He picked up a cucumber and a pack of cherry tomatoes. ‘You’re getting out of here for the rest of the day.’
‘But I can’t! I’ve got to keep—’
Oliver closed the fridge door, put his spoils on the worktop and turned to place a gentle finger against her mouth. Anna stared up at him.
‘You have no guests today. You told me – the last ones left after breakfast. You’ve run out of boxes to search. There can’t be anything so pressing you can’t take some time out.’
He removed his finger, but Anna could still feel its firm pressure, and she ran an unsteady tongue over her lip.
‘But I had every intention of—’
‘What?’ Oliver lifted the lid on the bread bin and pulled out a small loaf. He looked over his shoulder, then walked back to stand in front of Anna. ‘You had every intention of spending the day mulling over every possible outcome from the letter, culminating in your assumption you have to leave your home.’ He eyed her keenly. ‘Yes?’
Anna’s mouth opened, but no words came out, so she closed it with a snap.
‘And I’m staying here tonight.’
‘What?’ Anna’s eyes widened. ‘No, you’re not!’
‘I thought you said you had no guests?’
‘I don’t.’
‘So now you do.’ He studied her startled expression for a moment, then smiled faintly. ‘Harbourwatch is cold and empty. Mrs Clegg is away. You need company to stop you spending another evening racking your brains over questions you can’t answer. And I’ll help you if there’s more places to search.’
‘There’s no need for you to stay. I’m pretty much out of options here.’ Anna drew in a frustrated breath. She felt flustered by the idea of Oliver staying in the house, and she had a feeling she’d begun to understand why. There was no way she would let him have his way! ‘So, where are we going? And why are you raiding my fridge for food?’
Oliver inspected the remnants of the quiche Anna had made the previous day. He held the plate out to her. ‘Have you got anything to wrap that in?’
‘Yes, but that’s my supper for this evening.’
‘No need.’ Oliver waved an arbitrary hand. ‘I’ll treat you to supper.’
‘But I don’t want—’
Swinging around, Oliver placed his finger against her lips again.
‘Don’t. You’ll only regret it when I make you sit and watch me demolish a huge plateful later.’
He turned away and started opening and closing drawers, then pulled out a roll of plastic film.
‘Why do you insist on having your own way all the time? You’re impossible.’
‘So I’ve been told before.’ He sighed exaggeratedly, and Anna bristled on his behalf.
‘By whom?’
‘By you. Now, where do you keep a basket?’
Half an hour later, as Oliver sped the car along the A390, Anna reluctantly admitted to enjoying herself. He looked different again today. She’d noticed instantly, of course, that he didn’t wear a tie, and he sported the habitual white shirt but a more casual one, open at the neck, with navy chinos. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Was that… did he have a five o’clock shadow again? It was rather becoming on him.
Anna cleared her throat and tried to contemplate the green landscape around them. ‘I’m glad I got to have so many holidays in Cornwall as a child. Did you come to Cornwall when you were young?’
‘I told you, I didn’t grow up in England.’
Anna glanced at Oliver, but his attention remained firmly on the road. ‘So where…?’
‘All over.’
Nothing more was said as he guided the car through slower traffic near St Austell, but soon they were on open roads again. Anna knew she should curb her curiosity, but it was a fault she’d never really mastered, and Oliver was such a closed book, she couldn’t resist trying to pry open a few more pages. It didn’t help she found him so damned attractive lately either.
‘I can hear your brain whirring.’ Oliver threw her a quick glance. ‘You may as well say what you’re thinking.’
Probably best not to. He might crash the car if she told him.
‘Okay. If that’s an invitation?’
‘If I don’t want to answer you, I won’t.’
Fair enough. Anna eased into the comfort of the leather seat. ‘It would be nice to know a bit more about each other. Because we work together,’ she added hastily. It wouldn’t do for him to think she was crushing on him. Bloody hell. Who was she fooling? She was crushing on him! Warmth flooded her cheeks again.
‘My curiosity is at its height as to what is making you go that colour.’
‘You really don’t want to know.’ Anna put her hands to her face. ‘I’ve never conquered it. Been colouring up like a beetroot since childhood.’
‘Then I won’t press you for the cause on this occasion.’
‘Thank you. So, tell me some of the places you’ve lived.’
Oliver didn’t answer for a moment, and Anna cast him a glance. Then he shrugged.
‘A couple of years in Europe. Six in various States in the US. Two in Singapore, but none of them long enough to feel fully at home or learn the languages. I can get by in a few of them, but American always eluded me.’
Anna laughed. ‘Have you been back to any of them since you were in charge of your own destiny?’
‘I’m not sure I am.’
‘Am what?’
‘In charge of my own destiny. Fate has an odd way of intervening when I least expect it.’
Anna’s curiosity was high again, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask about fate. It had a funny way of upsetting her own life.
They were driving down a narrow lane now, with glimpses of the sea through the overhanging trees.
‘So, have you? Gone back at all?’
‘Sometimes.’
Anna blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Oliver!’
‘What?’ He glanced at her, but she could tell he was amused. ‘You ask the questions. I answer them. It’s not my fault if you don’t ask ones that give you the answer you want.’
‘You’re impossible!’
‘And you’re repetitive. How many times have you called me that?’
More than you’ll ever know.
‘I heard that.’ Anna blinked, but then Oliver added, ‘Here we are.’