Wearily she went to bed, wearily she rose in four or five hours’ time. But with the morning came hope and a brighter view of things
Elizabeth Gaskell, Wives and Daughters
Anna closed the door of Aunt Meg’s room with a snap and hurried back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Perhaps Oliver was so tired, he’d fall straight asleep.
‘Nice room. I think I’ll sleep well.’
Or perhaps not.
Anna spun around as he came into the kitchen.
‘But what about the morning? What if my usual callers turn up, hoping for coffee and cake?’ Anna chewed her lip. ‘You’ll have to get up early and go.’
Oliver gave a short laugh and walked back down the hall to drop his keys on the console table. ‘That’s no way to treat your guests.’
‘You’re not a guest!’ Anna hurried after him, and he swung around so unexpectedly, she almost ran into his chest.
Raising her chin with a finger, Oliver held her gaze for a moment. ‘I think you’ll find I am.’
Anna was keenly aware of their closeness. ‘Right.’ Fine. She cleared her throat and turned back towards the kitchen. ‘Would you like some wine?’
‘Not if I’m drinking on my own.’
‘I think I’ll manage a glass. Don’t worry, I’m in no danger of repeating last night.’
‘Pity. I’ve never received a drunken text before. It was quite enlightening.’
Anna turned away. What the hell did that mean? Did he know she had weird thoughts about him?
Five minutes later, Anna placed two glasses of red on the coffee table.
Oliver picked up his wine and walked over to the window, though it was too dark to see much from it. ‘What will you do if you don’t find the will?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You could stay here.’
Anna looked aghast. ‘Oh no! I couldn’t do that. Not if this isn’t my home. I feel like a usurper already.’
Oliver turned around. ‘You’re not going to leave?’
‘I don’t want to, but how can I stay here when I may not legally own it?’
Oliver walked over and picked up one of Aunt Meg’s diaries from the coffee table before sitting beside Anna on the sofa. ‘You realise these solicitors may not be able to tell you anything if you’re not a beneficiary under this newer will? How do you plan to find out what it contains if that’s the case?’
‘I have to find it.’ Anna spoke with more confidence than she felt. Conscious of Oliver’s closeness, she studied him from under her lashes as he flicked through the diary. There was something very appealing about him as he pulled out his glasses and put them on.
‘But if you can’t?’ He didn’t raise his head from the page, and Anna let out a huff of breath.
‘I don’t know!’ She tried to think clearly. ‘You know I said Aunt Meg had told her friends someone was pressurising her to sell, but she wouldn’t say who? I did wonder…’
Oliver lowered the diary. ‘Go on.’
Anna held his gaze. ‘I— Well, I wondered, with her illness starting, whether she gave in, left it to this… person in the later will. It’s the timing. About two years since the will Mrs Lovelace witnessed, and not much later Aunt Meg was properly diagnosed with her illness.’ Her voice trailed away under Oliver’s fixed look. There was something she couldn’t interpret on his face.
‘She mentions it in the later diaries, and—’
The diary toppled from Oliver’s hand, and they both went for it at the same time, banging heads.
‘Ow!’ Anna rubbed her forehead as Oliver sat back up, the book in his hand. ‘Sorry.’
‘So am I. Hope that doesn’t lead to another headache. These diaries—’ He looked at the spine of the one he held. ‘This one is from the nineties. When are they dated from?’
‘They go way back, as far as the sixties. But I’ve been through the most recent ones, page by page, and there are no clues as to a name. Of course, when I call these London solicitors tomorrow, they may be able to solve the whole thing.’ Anna drew in a sharp breath. ‘I’m scared, Oliver.’
He put down his glass and, to her surprise, took her hand and squeezed it briefly before releasing it. ‘You will be fine. Text me when you’ve spoken to them but remember they probably won’t discuss anything over the phone.’
‘Will you have gone by nine, then?’ Anna was unaware how wistful she sounded as a faint smile touched Oliver’s lips. She had hoped he’d still be here, even though she knew he had to get back to Scotland to resume his tour.
‘I thought you wanted me long gone before the locals turned up?’
Anna bit her lip. ‘Sorry. That was rude of me.’
Oliver shook his head. ‘It’s irrelevant. I have to be on the road early. I’ve moved my morning meeting, but I have to be there for a two o’clock lecture.’
Anna felt terrible for all the disruption. ‘I’ll do you an early breakfast.’
‘No, you won’t.’
‘But—’
‘I leave at four a.m., Anna, and that’s too early to eat, never mind cooking.’
‘But—’
Oliver leaned over and placed a finger against her lips. ‘I thought we’d moved on from the “buts”.’
Anna blinked as he dropped his hand, and she reached for her wine, her lips still tingling from the pressure of his finger.
The sooner Oliver returned to Scotland the better.
Not long after four the following morning, Anna eyed herself owlishly in the hall mirror. Oliver must have thought she was mad, not only getting up at silly o’clock but then watching him reverse out of the gates like a mother hen overseeing her chicks.
She turned away from her troubled expression and walked back into the kitchen, where she surveyed the fallout from her even earlier morning baking session. Oliver may not have wanted breakfast, but she couldn’t bear to think of him being hungry on his long journey north.
Was that true? Releasing a frustrated breath, Anna set to cleaning up, but as soon as she was done, she made herself a fresh coffee and walked out onto the terrace. It was still dark, with a cool breeze that had arisen overnight, and she shivered. Unable to help herself, she glanced at her watch. Oliver had only been gone half an hour. He wouldn’t have even reached the Tamar, so why did it feel like he was a million miles away?
Anna stared over at Harbourwatch, silent and grave, perched on its high cliffs opposite. She’d known she would miss Oliver when he went off on his trip, but she hadn’t anticipated the depth of her disappointment over his prolonged absence. Seeing him, albeit briefly, hadn’t helped either. Now she felt the gap left by his departure even more. How was she going to feel when he left for good at the end of the summer?
Anna drained her mug. She couldn’t think about that now. Time to shower and dress, because as soon as nine o’clock came, she had a phone call to make.
Barely had Anna ended her call with the London solicitors when her phone started up: Oliver!
‘Hi. Where are you?’
‘Services on the M5. How did it—’
‘Oh, Oliver, you were right. They wouldn’t tell me anything!’
Silence, then: ‘We knew it was a possibility.’
‘Yes, but I hoped… I don’t know. That there would be something they could say.’
‘So?’
‘I’m going to call Mr Mottershead again. He might be willing to act as intermediary.’ Anna let out a huff of breath. ‘I wish I understood why Aunt Meg had done this!’ There was no response at the other end of the phone. ‘Oliver? Are you there?’
‘Yes. Look, call him. See if he can help. If not, he might have a suggestion over what to do next now you’re a step further on.’ He paused. ‘I think you should let it go.’
Anna blinked. ‘How can I?’
He grunted. ‘Because if you never find the signed will, there’s nothing you, or anyone, can do about it. Just think about it.’
Anna nodded, even though Oliver couldn’t see her. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry. I’m feeling panicky again.’ Now you’re not here.
‘Well, stop it. I have to get going.’
‘I know. Sorry.’ Guilt over his having come such a distance because of her stupid text flooded her mind, and Anna closed her eyes in mortification.
‘Anna, why do you keep apologising?’
Feeling flustered, Anna raised her weary lids. ‘I feel bad for causing you all this… this disruption.’
A sound came down the phone. ‘I’m getting used to it.’
Anna was still frowning when the call ended. What on earth did he mean? She hadn’t been disruptive at the office, as far as she knew.
A plaintive cry from Heathcliff drew her attention, and she scooped him up in her arms and settled on the sofa with him before connecting a call to the office of Potter, Ball & Mottershead.
Mr Mottershead called back late in the day. He’d spoken to the London solicitors and regretted the only thing he could tell her was that Anna wasn’t a beneficiary under the more recent will. However, as the solicitors did not have a signed and witnessed copy, there was nothing they could do either. He had tried to reassure Anna – these things happened. People asked for legal documents to be prepared sometimes and that was as far as it went.
Partly reassured someone wasn’t going to suddenly appear on the doorstep and throw her out on the street – poor Heathcliff – Anna remained unnerved by knowing Aunt Meg had changed her mind about leaving the house to her.
She felt like an interloper, the sock that had slipped into the knicker drawer uninvited.
It had been a busy week of guests, however, and more had arrived by Friday evening. Alex had put off coming down to Cornwall again, and Anna had done what she’d known she must and told him to forget it altogether. She was unsurprised when he’d agreed with alacrity, saying it had been a blast and no hard feelings. She’d disconnected the call and shoved the phone deep into her pocket. There were more important things on her mind than her susceptibility for fair-haired, charming men.
Anna curled up on the sofa with Heathcliff and her latest reread, but then a message came through and she snatched up her phone. Pushing aside the disappointment of it not being from Oliver, Anna tapped a quick response to Lauren and soon she was back on the sofa with a glass of wine and her laptop, her friend beaming at her from the screen.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’
‘Good. You? Still on your longest date ever?’ Anna grinned. ‘What’s it now? Seven months?’
Lauren smirked. ‘About that.’ Then, she sobered. ‘Neither of us is ready to settle down in a grown-up sense, but we seem to be pretty serious. No idea where it’s going, and he’s in Brazil on business at the mo!’
‘So you can indulge yourself with Love Island?’
‘Absolutely! Back-to-back episodes I missed. Heaven!’
Anna laughed too. ‘Sounds more fun than my evenings lately.’ She quickly filled Lauren in. ‘Most of the stuff I went through is fodder for the nearest shredder. It’s like Aunt Meg hoarded every letter, statement, bill she ever received. They go back decades.’ Anna took a sip from her glass. ‘Now we know for certain I’m not a beneficiary of the new will, but as no one has a signed copy, Oliver thinks I should let it go.’
Lauren raised a brow, smirking. ‘Does he now? I thought you said he wanted to help you?’
‘Well, he’s away, isn’t he? But he says there’s probably nothing more I can do.’
‘Oh he does, does he? And when was this?’
Anna rolled her eyes at Lauren. ‘When he calls me. Why wouldn’t he?’
‘Why indeed.’ Lauren peered beadily at her. ‘You’re not becoming a smitten kitten, are you?’
Well aware of her crush, Anna hesitated, and Lauren whooped.
‘Stop it, Lauren! It’s just… I find him…’
‘Irresistible?’ Lauren chuckled.
‘No!’ Yes. Anna drew in a short breath. She secretly enjoyed being able to talk about Oliver. ‘There’s something so reassuring about him, solid and trustworthy. I know he’s there for me if I need him.’ Anna tried to ignore the sensations rising in her breast at the thought of him. ‘Alex, on the other hand, was as available as a Portakabin loo at an Ed Sheeran gig and about as helpful when one had a pressing need.’
Lauren grinned. ‘And talking of Alex—’ she lowered her voice and leaned towards the screen ‘—I see no sign. Another Friday he’s blown you off?’
‘We agreed to call it quits.’ Anna took another sip of her wine. ‘It wasn’t going anywhere. Never understood why he showed any interest in me, but whatever it was, it seems to have worn off. You were right, as you so often are. Alex was just another Giles.’
‘It’s human nature to lean towards a type that attracts you, love, not a sin!’ Lauren took a sip from her own glass. ‘It’s good to hear you don’t sound too bothered.’
Anna shook her head. ‘It’s funny, really. That crush sustained me for years and years. He’s still gorgeous to look at, of course, but I’ve come to realise I don’t like him very much.’
‘No broken heart?’
Anna thought for a moment. ‘Nope. Nothing. I think I can honestly say I’ve got deeper feelings for—’
‘Oliver?’ Lauren crowed at Anna’s expression.
‘No!’ Anna leaned over and picked up her book from the coffee table. ‘I was going to say John Thornton.’ She waved her copy of Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South at the screen, trying to ignore the swoop of her insides as her thoughts plunged rapidly in Oliver’s direction again. ‘We were curled up on the sofa together when you called.’
‘Strange bedfellows!’ Lauren leaned back in her seat. ‘I wonder if you protest too much about Oliver.’
Unable to find a response to this, Anna was thankful when her phone pinged, and she lunged for it.
‘Text from Oliver.’
Lauren smirked again. ‘He’s so into you.’
Anna clutched her midriff as her insides swirled. ‘Don’t be daft. He’s my boss. He’s a lot older, and—’ She stopped when Lauren snorted. ‘What?’
‘He’s only in his forties, love.’
Anna ignored her. ‘I think he sees me as someone who needs his support. He’s a thoughtful man, that’s all.’ She glanced at the text, aware of disappointment. ‘Oliver’s been invited to a dinner at the last minute.’ She raised her eyes to her friend’s. ‘He can’t call tonight.’
‘You are so in denial.’
Anna changed the subject, ignoring Lauren’s smirk, and they chatted for a few more minutes, and when the call ended, she walked over to put her glass in the dishwasher. The house was full of guests, with all the rooms but Aunt Meg’s in use, and she needed to be on the ball in the morning.
A glance at the clock was sufficient to send Anna upstairs. Oliver would be setting off on his train journey south by midday on Sunday. For once, the weekend didn’t stretch unendingly ahead; it felt like it had purpose, and she was excited. Anna stopped suddenly on the stairs to her attic bedroom.
Was she more preoccupied with thoughts of returning to work on Monday and finding Oliver back at his desk than continuing the fruitless search for the missing will?
Saturday flew by, and Anna was in the kitchen on Sunday morning, preparing her guests’ breakfasts, scurrying to and fro to lay out the tables in the dining room, when her phone rang.
She snatched it up. Unknown caller. Disappointed, she connected the call, and five minutes later, she took the stairs two at a time. She’d stripped the bed in Aunt Meg’s room after Oliver had stayed, but beyond that she’d done nothing else with the room, and now she had more guests arriving that afternoon.
By the time her first guests headed down the stairs for breakfast, she’d made up the bed again with fresh linen, polished the furniture, cleaned the sink and swept the floor.
As she smiled and served breakfast to her guests, chatting about the best walks locally, Anna’s mind ran through the last-minute things she needed to do to the new room to ensure it was fully ready: take up a hospitality tray, check all the light bulbs, put out the towels. Popping a fresh batch of biscuits into the oven, she waved her guests off on their day of walking and shot back upstairs.
Stepping back to admire her work sometime later, Anna brushed her hair out of her eyes, eyeing a recently broken nail ruefully as she checked the bedside lamps. Then, she headed for the door, flicking the switch on the main light as she passed. Dead bulb.
‘Damn.’ She grabbed a new one from the drawer under the linen press on the landing and kicked off her slippers before clambering onto the high bed and, steadying herself for balance, replaced the bulb. She was about to climb down, but then she did a double take. Only a random pattern of shells on the windowsill when you looked at them, but from up here? They formed an arrow.
‘Follow the shells,’ Aunt Meg had pleaded, even though she couldn’t remember why she’d said it. And now Anna could see where the line of shells pointed: to the pink velvet bunny.