‘You’re very quiet today,’ said Aidan, his strong arms stretched above him. He stood at the top of the ladder, positioning a newly planted hanging basket outside the living-room windows.
‘Am I?’ asked Emma, admiring the vibrant orange begonia with its contrasting dark leaves trailing from the basket that her gardener, Sue, had potted up earlier in the week. Emma wished she were green-fingered herself, but every attempt at gardening she’d ever made resulted in the same inevitable outcome – withered leaves, wilted flowers and no new growth.
‘Did you have one too many last night? You were late coming in.’
‘No more than usual,’ she said, keeping a firm grasp on the ladder, Wilbur lying underneath it, fast asleep. Why Aidan asked her to steady it each time she was never certain. She was confident that should the ladder slip there would be little she could do to prevent the weight of it and Aidan from crashing to the floor, but still she stood with one foot on the bottom rung and both hands on its sides, happy to be able to give Aidan the support he needed.
‘And everything’s okay with the girls?’
‘Yup,’ she said brightly, trying hard not to appear reticent. The truth was, Emma had been distracted all morning because her mind had been caught up in Eve’s suggestion of merging the two houses. She’d left Rhona’s place the previous night thinking about it, had been unable to get to sleep because of all the ideas churning round her head and had woken first thing with the thoughts still at the forefront of her mind. In less than twenty-four hours it had become an obsession, one that trumped the idea of any opportunity in London, but one she was pretty certain Aidan wouldn’t share.
‘Which leaves?’ he asked, coming down the ladder. Wilbur stirred just enough to look up, then laid his weary head down again.
Emma made her fish face, her lips twisted in a pout, the one she often pulled when deliberating whether to tell Aidan something or not.
‘Emma Jenkins, I know that face, now spill,’ he said, closing the ladder, Wilbur still not budging.
‘It’s just something Eve mentioned,’ she said, trying to sound breezy, as if it were really nothing at all, and certainly not something she was obsessing about.
‘Uh-oh,’ he laughed as they walked towards the shed to put the ladder away, Wilbur following slowly behind. ‘So, go on, give me the bad news, what is it this time?’
‘It’s nothing, just one of her crazy ideas . . . it’s ridiculous really . . .’
‘And yet it’s clearly something you’re thinking about.’ He closed the shed door and indicated towards the garden bench that looked out to sea. Wilbur, too tired to venture further, lay down in the centre of the grass behind them.
They sat on the bench, Emma perched on its edge, half turned towards Aidan. He raised his brow in anticipation. Emma let her body slump dejectedly, knowing there was no way out of telling him, even though she was pretty certain of how the idea would be met.
‘She suggested we use a couple of rooms from your house for the business,’ she said, deciding that feeding him the idea in bite-sized pieces might be more palatable than throwing it straight at him whole.
Aidan shrugged loosely and nodded his head. ‘Makes sense,’ he said casually.
‘Really?’ said Emma, shocked by his easy-oasy reaction.
‘Sure, why not? The extra income would cover the cost of the upkeep, and maybe even the mortgage. We don’t need all the space for just the three of us. Plus, you said yourself you’re looking for a challenge, this could be perfect.’
‘But it’s your family home,’ she said, looking back towards the sandstone house standing majestically against the bright autumn sky. ‘All your memories of your parents are bound up in the bricks.’
‘The bricks aren’t going anywhere, are they?’ he said teasingly.
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, hitting him playfully. ‘Everything would have to be changed – the carpets, the wallpaper, the furniture. I don’t know how much would be left the same.’
‘What are you thinking of exactly? Assuming this is what’s been rattling through your mind all morning and that you already have a full scheme in that head of yours.’
Emma sat back, and Aidan put his arm around her.
‘I was thinking we could keep the kitchen and living room for us, and the whole of the top floor too. Your dining room could be knocked through into my dining room to make it bigger, and then the middle floor could be used as two further bedrooms and a treatment room. Eve’s happy to move her bedroom and studio upstairs.’
‘How would guests access the middle floor?’
‘It would have to be through your dining room and up the stairs. I know that would mean our privacy being invaded a bit, but we could put a door at the top of the second staircase, that way nobody would have access to our rooms.’
Aidan sat for a moment, his gaze directed out to sea. Emma worried she’d said too much and put him off the idea.
‘I know it’s a lot to take in,’ she said, following his line of sight out over the horizon. ‘When Eve first mentioned the idea, I thought it was mad, and I would never have come up with it myself. It’s your home and I don’t want you to think for a moment that I’m not aware of all the memories it holds. I don’t want to undo any of that. Honestly, if it’s easier, I’m happy to forget she ever brought it up.’
‘Emma, slow down,’ laughed Aidan. ‘I like the idea, I do.’ He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
‘You do?’ she asked, her face turned towards his, which seemed to have softened over the last eighteen months. Maybe it was the fact that his facial hair was now downy rather than prickly, or that he was wearing his hair a touch longer, or maybe it was that she knew him better these days and saw Aidan for himself rather than just his (admittedly distracting) looks. The day they met, when Aidan had been so patronising towards her, felt like a lifetime ago. A lot had changed since then.
‘It sounds like the only structural change would be to the dining-room wall. If we found after a year or two that there wasn’t the demand, or we were finding it too much living “on top of the shop” we could always convert it back, or move elsewhere in the village.’
Emma bit her lip. ‘You don’t have to rush into a decision. It’s much bigger than knocking a hole in the wall for a gate,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder to the gate Aidan had built last summer when they’d decided it was easier to go between the houses through the back, rather than the front.
‘We should do it,’ he said emphatically. ‘I’ll call David, ask him to come take a look?’
‘Who’s David?’
‘A builder, an old school friend. He could oversee the work. I take it you’d want to do all the interiors yourself.’
‘Naturally,’ said Emma, who was already itching to get her teeth into the project. ‘You don’t want to manage the build?’
Aidan shook his head. ‘If I’m honest I think I’d prefer to take a back seat. With the guesthouse maintenance, the boat work and the lifeboat crew, I’m already feeling near my limit.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, sensing he was leaving something unsaid. ‘You’re not just agreeing to this to keep me happy?’
‘No, I’m definitely not doing that,’ he laughed, stroking her hair.
‘If you’re sure?’ said Emma, who felt a frisson of excitement begin to bubble inside of her, one that was only quelled by the sense that Aidan was holding something back, that perhaps his heart wasn’t as fully in the idea as her own.
‘I’m definitely sure,’ he said, getting up. ‘Let’s talk about it some more when I’m home. Right now, I need to head over to the station for training.’
Emma looked at her watch, which read quarter past two, and the doorbell rang.
‘Who could that be on a Sunday?’ she asked, hoping it wasn’t someone looking for a room. Emma had a policy of no Sunday arrivals to allow Rhona and Peggy a day off from preparing rooms and afternoon teas.
‘See you this evening,’ said Aidan, kissing her goodbye, and she lingered a little longer than usual before watching him head down the garden and onto the coastal path towards the harbour, where he’d left his van.
Emma returned to the house, brushing off her jeans and adjusting her little cardigan, her mind still occupied by her sense that Aidan was leaving something unsaid. Opening the front door, she found a guy standing on the step.
‘Hi, are you looking for a room?’ asked Emma, surprised to find the man was about her age and on his own. It wasn’t often anyone knocked on the door to ask for a room, almost all her guests pre-booked, but when it did happen it was usually older couples, or walkers passing through with sore feet and empty stomachs. It was clear to Emma from the man’s attire – turned-up jeans, retro soft leather shoes and a casual shirt flung over a T-shirt – that he wasn’t a walker. He looked positively urban for Lobster.
‘I am,’ he said, ruffling the back of his dark wavy hair which looked as if it was due a cut. He placed a hand on his hip, the other held tightly to a canvas bag. ‘I’m sorry just to show up at your door. I was meant to be moving into my new place today, but it turns out it’s not ready so I’m in a bit of a hole.’
‘How many nights do you need?’ asked Emma, feeling a bit sorry for the guy, who was clearly flustered and far from home. His accent hinted at the north-east of England.
‘Maybe three or four. I’m not totally sure.’
‘I have a small double at the top of the house that’s free,’ she said, happy to make an exception for him. ‘If you needed longer than that, I might have to move you to another room.’
‘That sounds fine,’ he said, his shoulders relaxing and his pale green eyes softening. ‘If I’m honest, I tried a couple of other places first, but they were closed. I would have taken the cupboard under the stairs!’
Emma laughed. ‘I’m Emma,’ she said, extending her hand.
‘George.’ In return he offered his, which was small and soft.
‘Come in,’ she said, and he followed her into the hall, which she was conscious wasn’t its usual ‘Rhona pristine clean’. ‘Excuse the chaos. We don’t usually have arrivals on a Sunday, so things are a bit of a mess.’
‘It looks immaculate, and trust me, after thinking I was going to be sleeping in the car, my only wish is a comfy bed.’
‘That I can provide,’ said Emma, leading him upstairs. ‘Have you bought a place in the village?’
‘I’ve moved up from the north-east for a job, which comes with accommodation.’
‘Which isn’t available.’
‘Right, hence me knocking on your door on a Sunday afternoon.’
‘Well, don’t worry, that’s what I’m here for,’ said Emma, opening the door to Rose Hip, a little room at the front of the house overlooking the village rooftops. Despite its size, Emma loved the room with its palette of coastal blues, greys and pink accents, stripped floorboards and tongue-and-groove walls.
‘This is super, thank you,’ said George, impressing Emma by placing his canvas bag on the suitcase stand. The number of guests who threw dirty cases on lovingly made and beautifully clean beds never failed to amaze her.
‘Is there anything I can help you with, restaurant, shops, that kind of thing?’ she asked after running through her breakfast, keys and WIFI spiel.
‘I should be fine, thank you. I’ve a meeting with my new colleagues, I’m sure they’ll point me in the right direction.’
‘Then I’ll leave you to settle in,’ said Emma, taking her leave and thinking it curious that he’d have a work commitment on a Sunday.