Fully Booked Page 7

  Robin stared at her feet, and then the sea, and then made herself meet Emily’s gaze. ‘I grew up in Campion Bay, but I lived in London for over a decade. I’ve only been back a few months, and there’s someone here … An ex.’

  ‘Ah, the flowers.’

  ‘That obvious?’

  ‘That fits the definition of complicated,’ she said. ‘Especially if you’re having feelings you don’t know what to do with.’

  ‘We didn’t fall into each other’s arms immediately the second time round,’ Jonathan said, approaching the ice cream kiosk next to Skull Island. ‘Coffee?’

  Robin waved him away, and he went to order. ‘It took you a while?’

  ‘The trust wasn’t there at first,’ Emily said. ‘We were both wary of each other, of how we felt. We may come across as dreamers, but we were practical about it, too. We understood that trying for a second time wouldn’t be easy, that it would be hard to move past old recriminations or problems. But I couldn’t ignore the way I felt about him, the love that was still there. Now we know we’ve been given a second chance, and that makes it even more worthwhile.’

  ‘It sounds like a fairy tale,’ Robin said.

  Emily shrugged, the happiness radiating off her like an extra sun. ‘We were lucky. It can’t happen very often, finding love with the same person a second time round.’

  ‘I bet it’s once in a blue moon,’ Robin said, tucking her hair behind her ear and gazing out to sea.

  The guesthouse was silent when Robin got back, having left Emily and Jonathan to spend their anniversary at Corfe Castle, blissfully happy in their rekindled relationship. She threw her keys on the table in Sea Shanty, glared accusingly at the bouquet of flowers that was filling the whole of downstairs with its heady scent, then went to get a vase of water. Eclipse met her in the kitchen, meowing up at her until she abandoned what she was doing and pulled him into her arms for a hug. She let his buzzing warmth calm her down, and then tried to arrange the flowers while he lay across her shoulders like a mink stole, his tail tickling her cheek.

  Her hangover had dulled after the sea air, and she made herself a cup of peppermint tea and took a notepad to the sofa, with the pretence of working on her next marketing campaign. Her bookings over the next few months were solid, if not sold out, and she wanted to take advantage of the hot weather and maximise her profits with as many fully booked days as possible. She had several ideas for promotions; there was a wine company she wanted to link with, and a couple of events coming up in Campion Bay – the summer fireworks and a vintage fair she thought she could use as selling points for last-minute breaks.

  She started to make a list, willing herself not to get distracted by the enticing view beyond the glass as a group of friends in their twenties jostled and laughed their way to Maggie’s crazy golf course, one of them eating from a huge ball of candy floss while the others tried to push his face into the pink swirl of sugar.

  She wanted to take Will to Skull Island. After the previous night, when she’d discovered that he agreed with her about Tabitha’s plaque, and that standing close to him and looking into those green eyes felt like fireworks were going off inside her, she wanted to spend more time with him. And she wanted to do it away from his project and her guesthouse, where she felt they were both being at their most professional and subdued.

  Molly’s idea had been a great one, if the plan had been to make Robin fall for Will. Sadly, they were trying to make Will fall for Campion Bay, and after her sudden cold feet at the mention of Neve’s name, and then revealing her princess-style bedroom to him, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was itching to get away from his crazy landlady and the seaside town altogether.

  Eclipse slipped off her shoulders and started pawing at her pen, which was moving across the paper. Robin realised that instead of doodling stars and flowers, she had written two names. Will and Tim.

  ‘I’m hopeless, kitten, you know that, right? Your mum is a walking, mooning disaster. Mooning because I like moons, and because that’s all I seem to do these days.’ Eclipse let out a tiny squeak. ‘No need to agree quite so readily.’ She stared at the paper for a moment, then sat up straight. ‘Moons. That’s it!’

  Ten minutes later she was back on the sofa with her notepad and Neve’s astrology book on her knees. She turned to the section titled ‘Love Matches’, and flipped through to the pages detailing how compatible each of the star signs were with each other. Robin’s birthday was the twenty-first of February, just inside Pisces, and Tim – of course – was a Leo. A summer baby, with blond, sunny curls and the confidence to match. She scanned through until she found Love compatibility between Pisces and Leo, and then read what it said, making notes.

  Leo is assertive – no shit – while Pisces chooses a softer path, and is the more reserved partner in any relationship. Leo will be in charge, while over-emotional Pisces can dampen the flames of Leo’s enthusiasm.

  ‘Sounds great,’ Robin said, rolling her eyes, thinking how perfectly it fitted with Tim. She skipped ahead to the summation: Leo and Pisces are receptive to each other’s teachings. They enjoy the new perspective the other brings to life, and to their love, making it a wholesome and worthwhile relationship. ‘That doesn’t sound like the greatest love story of all time,’ she murmured. ‘Who wants their love to be wholesome, apart from the Brady Bunch?’

  With a flash of annoyance, she realised she had no idea when Will’s birthday was; her great idea had fallen at the second hurdle. Then she remembered that the booking form on the overly thorough GuestSmart software asked guests to include their date of birth. Will had completed it the day after he’d arrived. Feeling a tug of guilt at looking at his record for unprofessional purposes, she hurried to the computer.

  The second of November 1981. She worked it out quickly in her head – he was thirty-five, nearly three years older than she was, and a Scorpio. Returning to Neve’s book, she found the right page. How would she, as an emotional Pisces, fare with a fearless, serious Scorpio? This time she read the last line first.

  A union between Pisces and Scorpio is one of mutual respect and true, profound commitment. Their love will, above all things, endure.

  This was much stronger. Enduring love, profound commitment. It was a love you could hold on to, one made to last. Robin smiled, but then, reading back over the rest of the page, her triumph faded. For a Scorpio, everything is black and white, tarnished or golden. They will not tolerate deception.

  Suddenly this felt like one of the worst ideas she’d had for a long time, almost as bad as not shutting down Molly’s stupid ‘Saving Goldcrest Road’ plan the moment she’d mentioned it. She shut the book and was carrying it across to her room when the doorbell rang. ‘Hang on a sec!’

  ‘It’s open, can I come in?’ Molly stepped into the hall wearing a pure white hoody over her jeans, her hair pulled back from her subtly made-up face.

  ‘Molly!’ Robin clutched the book to her chest.

  ‘I came to see how last night went, but it looks like I’ve turned up just in time. What have you been doing with Neve’s book – not showing it to Will, I hope?’

  Robin’s laugh was pure nerves. ‘No, of course not. I was just—’

  ‘What’s that smell? Have you taken up floristry as well as everything else?’ She peered into Sea Shanty, her eyes widening at the site of Tim’s bouquet centrepiece. She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. ‘What the hell happened last night? Don’t tell me, you seduced Will into your bed – or his bed, or one of the beds in this place – and it was so amazing he declared his undying love for you and bought out the whole of Bertie’s Blooms to prove it?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Robin managed. ‘These are from Tim.’

  ‘Oh.’ Molly’s voice was flat. ‘Or are you pleased? Honestly, Robin, how can your love life be so complicated when nothing’s actually happening?’

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve asked myself that a hundred times? I’ve been trying to find the answers.’

  ‘In
Neve’s book? This is a particularly sorry state of affairs.’

  ‘She believed in it.’ Robin leaned against the wall, too tired to be affronted.

  ‘I know she did,’ Molly said gently, squeezing her friend’s arm. ‘And I completely get that. But how can you believe in it when you don’t even understand it? Aren’t you going to just tie yourself in knots?’

  ‘I’ve managed that perfectly well without the help of Neve’s astrology tomes, thank you very much. Want a cuppa?’

  ‘Yes,’ Molly said. ‘And a complete rundown of your date with Will Nightingale, from start to finish. Leave no detail out. We’re all counting on you to convince Will to stay in Campion Bay.’

  For the rest of that day and the next, Will and Robin skirted around each other. They were polite, on the edge of friendly, but without the warmth and easiness there’d been before their evening at the restaurant had ended so awkwardly. She felt uncomfortable about running away from their moment of closeness, about the flowers she’d fleetingly thought had been from him, and she had no idea how he saw the whole situation. He returned to the guesthouse late every evening, giving her a quick wave goodnight, and appeared for breakfast each morning after his swim.

  He was immersing himself in the house, in Tabitha’s past and in the dust and gloom, and not giving himself any space to breathe. Robin knew what that felt like. She’d focused so hard on Once in a Blue Moon Days after Neve’s death, trying to blot out her grief and carry on their dream together, and it hadn’t gone well for her or for the business.

  She wondered if Will had gone for that drink with Tim, and what else he’d discovered in the house. She wanted him to have a day off, and she wanted to start helping him again, to relieve some of the burden he must be feeling. She hadn’t been round to Tabitha’s house since the day before their meal.

  She knew that all she had to do was speak to him – to rip the plaster off, to clear the air between them. She was sure everything would be OK once she had got over that initial hurdle.

  She resolved to do it by the weekend, so they could take advantage of the sunny weather forecast that was ideally suited to crazy golf and ice creams. But on Saturday morning, after she and Paige had completed changeovers for the new guests, she found herself doing paperwork in Sea Shanty and watching other people enjoying the balmy day through the window. Seagulls were strolling unabashed on top of a red Mercedes parked outside the guesthouse, leaving signs of their presence all over the glossy paintwork. The phone rang and she answered it to a young woman who was so quiet Robin could barely hear her, enquiring whether Rockpool was free for a week at the end of May.

  She clicked through the screens on GuestSmart, asking the woman, whose name was Lorna, to hold on while she double-checked, and so she didn’t notice Will come in.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s fine. Would you like me to reserve it for you? Do you have any special requirements – is it for a special occasion?’ She took down the woman’s details, jumping as something brushed against her leg. Darcy was looking up at her, her brown eyes huge, her tongue lolling out. Robin stared at the dog for a moment, and then allowed her gaze to take in the rest of the room.

  Will was standing in front of the window with his back to her. She could see the definition of his shoulder blades through his thin white T-shirt. He was standing very still; an unnerving statue. Robin forced herself to focus on Lorna, on completing her booking and sounding as welcoming as possible. Finally, she put the receiver gently back in place. Will still hadn’t moved, and Darcy had settled at Robin’s feet, as if she, too, was waiting for her.

  ‘Will?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Can I help with anything? Are you OK?’

  He turned slowly, his eyes finding hers. Robin was shocked by the raw emotion in his expression; she hadn’t seen him like this before, as if she would be able to knock him to the floor with a single finger. He’d always seemed so solid, so certain about everything.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, drinking in the sight of him. His white T-shirt was still pristine, unmarked with dirt or grime, and he was holding something. It looked like a bundle of letters, the envelopes small and creased at the edges.

  She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, the words seeming to take an age to form before he spoke them into the silence. ‘I found something,’ he said. ‘In my aunt’s house. I found out why he did it.’

  Chapter Five

  The sun was shining down on them through the window and the sea, a glimmering deep aquamarine, was beautifully still. The room had a stillness of a different kind, and even Darcy and Eclipse were sitting close to each other on the rug, as if realising now was not the time for petty squabbles. Robin had sat Will down and made a pot of coffee, and had then spent too long arranging biscuits on a plate because she knew that when she went back in to Sea Shanty he was going to tell her something momentous about Tabitha; about his whole family. Whatever it was, he seemed completely stunned by it, as if he’d been encased in a block of ice and was thawing bit by bit.

  She was sitting next to him on the sofa, and she could smell the sweetness of rhubarb and custard, even though he didn’t seem to be sucking a sweet. He held the letters in his hand, and Robin didn’t know whether to take them from him or click her fingers, startling him out of whatever unhappiness his mind had forced him towards.

  ‘Will,’ she said quietly, ‘what did you find out? What are these letters?’

  ‘They’re from Tabitha to Dad.’

  Robin frowned, wondering if he’d said it right. ‘So why are they in your aunt’s house?’

  ‘Because he returned them all. Look.’ He took the first envelope from the pile and handed it to her, his movements cautious, as if the paper might suddenly crumble into dust. There was an address in South London written in beautiful, fluid handwriting, but this had been scribbled out, and Tabitha’s Campion Bay address, written in capitals in the top corner, had been circled next to writing that said RETURN TO SENDER. ‘That’s my dad’s handwriting. Capitals all the time, which makes him seem angry. At this point, I’m sure he was.’

  ‘Have they been opened?’

  Will shrugged. ‘They have, but I can’t tell if it was by Dad, or by Tabitha when he returned them, wondering if he’d put a letter of his own in the envelope. They were tied with a ribbon in the bottom of Tabitha’s wardrobe. I thought they were love letters from Nigel at first, from before they got together. Then I saw my dad’s writing.’

  Robin turned the envelope over carefully. It was undoubtedly old, a treasure of the past, and she would have been thrilled at this secret discovery if it wasn’t for the obvious pain it had caused Will. The seal had been broken, but gently, as if with a penknife or letter opener.

  ‘Have you read them all?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat, and she put the letter on her knee while she poured him a cup of coffee. He took it gratefully, holding it with both hands while the pile of letters sat unassumingly in his lap.

  ‘May I?’ she asked, picking up the letter again.

  Will nodded and sipped his coffee. She couldn’t help but notice how the tan he’d arrived with had paled, and how his bottom lip was cracked. He had a line of red along his jaw, as thin as a paper cut, and she wondered whether he’d done it shaving or delving into dark corners in Tabitha’s house.

  She turned her attention back to the envelope. She lifted the flap and slowly pulled out the piece of paper – thick, good-quality writing paper with a watermark of the stationery company in the top centre. The writing was the same elegant script as on the envelope, and it was evenly spaced, giving the impression of being written calmly, perhaps drafted elsewhere before it had been finalised and sent.

  Dear Rod, my brother,

  Aren’t you still my brother? Does this one decision, borne out of love, mean that we can no longer be family? Is the principle that important that we can’t put this behind us? We’re living on the coast now, a place called Campion Bay, and I’d love you t
o see it, the blue sky and sea, the fresh air and space so different from London. He chose my love over his work and we moved here to put some distance between us. But now, can’t we start to talk it over, to reconcile? It is the one piece of my happiness that’s missing, and maybe it’s selfish of me, but I believe it’s possible to have both.

  Please write back,

  Your sister, always,

  Tabby xxx

  Robin swallowed, rereading the words. ‘What was the decision? Was it her decision, or his?’

  ‘Hers,’ Will said, handing her the pile of envelopes. ‘She fell in love with his business rival. My dad built his own building firm from scratch when he was in his twenties. It’s successful; he’s close to retirement age but won’t consider giving up, although now he only oversees the sites. He’s a proud man, and while building firms are ten a penny these days, back then he had his patch of South London. He always told me he was unrivalled in the area. It seems that wasn’t strictly true.’

  ‘He kept that from you?’ she asked, unfolding the next letter.

  ‘I suppose it was tied up with Tabitha, and he refused to mention her name. I only knew about her through Mum, and she only talked about her when Dad was out of the house. Even then, she never went into detail.’ He rested his elbow on his knee, his forehead in his hand. His coffee mug was leaning precariously, half-forgotten, and Robin resisted the urge to take it from him. ‘My dad has a temper, so going against his wishes – especially on this – is too hard for her.’

  Robin was torn between reading the letters for herself, and hearing it from Will. ‘So there was another building firm, and it was run by Nigel, and your aunt fell in love with him?’

  ‘That’s what the letters say. When she told him, my dad gave her an ultimatum. There’s mention of the wedding, that while my grandparents were there he refused to go, refused to see her at all, to even talk it over.’ He looked at her, his brows lowered. ‘I could maybe understand a grudge if Nigel had done something underhand, had harmed my dad’s business in some way, and I can’t know for sure, but … Tabitha always talked about him with such warmth. And would she have ended up marrying him if he’d tried to sabotage my dad’s business?’