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  ‘I don’t remember Nigel very well,’ Robin said. ‘I was only young when he died. Mum said he had a heart attack.’

  ‘He wasn’t even fifty,’ Will said. ‘I never met him, but I know Tabitha loved him, that was clear from the way she talked about him. I don’t think she ever got over losing him. It makes me even angrier with Dad. How can falling in love with someone be worthy of being shunned by your family?’ He sighed and sat back on the sofa, clutching his coffee mug to his chest.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Robin whispered. She opened the next letter. ‘And Tabitha never told you the truth, once you’d started coming to see her?’

  ‘She said it wasn’t her place. I suppose she didn’t want to turn me against Dad, to reveal how cruel he’d been.’

  ‘What will you do now you know? What will you say to him?’

  ‘I honestly haven’t got a clue.’

  Robin read the second letter, and then the third and the fourth, her coffee going cold as she absorbed Tabitha’s entreaties to her brother, reminding them of how close they’d been before Nigel had come between them, pleading with him to let her visit, or for him to come to Campion Bay, to start rebuilding bridges. Robin could see so much of her next-door neighbour in the letters, anecdotes about their childhood – perhaps hoping to make her brother laugh, appealing to his better nature. What was clear in all of them, though, was that Tabitha wasn’t prepared to apologise for loving Nigel, or for choosing him. Rather, she wanted her brother to see sense. I love Nigel, and if only you were prepared to see what kind of person he is, I’m certain that you’d love him too.

  This stubbornness, which Robin silently applauded Tabitha for, was the reason they had never reconciled. She wouldn’t give up, or say sorry for the husband she had chosen, and Rod would never see it as anything but betrayal.

  She could see why Will was shocked by the revelation, and while the letters couldn’t reveal exactly why his dad felt the way he did about Nigel, she had known Tabitha and, like Will, she couldn’t imagine her loving someone who was inherently cruel or underhand. Will seemed to put the blame wholeheartedly at his father’s door, as if it wasn’t entirely out of character. Rod Nightingale seemed, from the little she understood, a proud, fiery man, and one who wasn’t prepared to see things from other people’s perspectives.

  While she read, she kept glancing at Will. He was perfectly still on the sofa, his eyes closed, and she thought of the way he tried to hold his emotions inside, controlling every nerve right down to his little finger. She couldn’t imagine what a blow it would be to find out her own dad had done something so devastating, and had never softened or taken the first, tentative steps towards a reunion. How did Rod feel now, Robin wondered, knowing Tabitha was dead and he’d never be able to make it up to her? She couldn’t imagine that he didn’t care.

  She got to the last letter in the pile, noticing the difference immediately. The address on the front was Tabitha’s, the writing the capital scrawl of Will’s dad. Robin held her breath. This was a letter from him to her, a change in direction after all those returned letters. She glanced at Will but he still had his eyes closed, and she wondered if this was the letter of reconciliation, if Will had missed it and there’d been some huge miscommunication he didn’t know about.

  She turned it over and saw it had been ripped open without hesitation. She could picture a younger Tabitha seeing this letter on the mat, her face lighting up with happiness and relief, thinking that after years of being shunned, this was finally the moment when she would be forgiven. Her hand trembled slightly as she opened the piece of paper. There were too few words, she realised, her heart swooping like a rollercoaster as she took only seconds to read them.

  Mrs Thomas,

  It cannot have escaped your attention that I have nothing to say to you. My views are unchanged. Please stop writing to me.

  Rodney Nightingale

  Robin pressed her lips together, feeling a jolt of shock at the coldness of the letter. Eclipse gave a gentle meow from the rug, where he and Darcy were sitting close together, Darcy’s tail wagging in a scene that was straight out of an old Real Fires advert, their initial altercation forgotten. Robin turned back to the letter. It was devoid of passion or personality, as if he was writing to a woman he’d just met who had shown him unrequited affections. It was the most loveless thing she’d seen, and it made her heart break to think of Tabitha reading it over and over, her hopes dashed in a few short lines.

  Closing the piece of paper, she slipped it back in its envelope and placed the pile of letters on the sofa next to her. She sipped her cold coffee and stared out of the window. When Eclipse got up, stretched on his short legs and walked out of the room, Robin sunk on to the rug and pulled Darcy against her. The dog came willingly, glancing in the direction of her master.

  ‘I think he’s exhausted,’ she whispered to Darcy. ‘He’s been working so hard, and then to find this out – to find out what his dad did to Tabitha … Let’s leave him to sleep, shall we?’ She kissed the impossibly soft fur on the top of Darcy’s head, and then got quietly up and left the room.

  After giving Eclipse and Darcy some lunch, she had gone upstairs to carry out a final inspection of Wilderness and Andalusia before the new guests booked in later that day.

  Emily and Jonathan Hannigan were staying for a week, their checkout scheduled for Monday morning, and they were already professing their regret that their holiday was coming to an end. As she put together a shopping list for her trip into Bridport later that afternoon, Robin wondered if she should get them a parting gift, something that would remind them of their anniversary. She had begun to see some of the guests as friends, and had to remind herself that the bonds that were formed were purely between landlady and guest, and nothing more.

  Even with Will, she realised, she couldn’t be sure that his feelings went any deeper. She wanted them to; she had been shocked by the letters while also being touched that he’d come straight to her, but had quickly realised that she was simply the only person he knew well enough in Campion Bay. It made her realise that, despite the start of a few tentative friendships, while he was here, Will was essentially alone.

  She’d left him sleeping on the sofa, and when she’d checked on him half an hour ago he’d still been there, his breathing even and gentle, Darcy lying with her head on his lap.

  At least, she thought as she burrowed through the freezer, he had felt able to show her. Despite having few options, he had trusted her enough to come to her with the letters, when he could have kept the revelation to himself, worrying it over until he made a decision about how to approach his dad. She closed her eyes, not envying him that conversation.

  She’d been replaying it over and over, what she’d found out about his family, how Will had seemed defeated by it. His dad had a temper, but did that mean Will did too? From what little she’d seen, she couldn’t imagine him enraged about anything. Was he more like his mum, who had clearly tried to keep the peace, feeding him titbits of information that she felt he deserved while trying not to anger her husband?

  Her shopping list written, Robin started work on the hob, scrubbing it with force, her jumper rolled up to the elbows. Eclipse dug his claws into her ankles, requesting a hug. She spun quickly, then jumped and dropped her cloth at the sight of Will standing in the doorway.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He was blinking and rubbing his jaw.

  ‘No, you’re fine.’ She took an edge of the cloth, which Eclipse had pounced on, and spent a few moments wrestling it from the kitten before picking him up. ‘Are you OK?’

  He nodded. ‘I think so. You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep.’

  ‘You clearly needed it.’

  ‘Your sofas are too comfy.’

  ‘Seems to be a common complaint from you.’ She met his gaze and offered a smile, which he returned.

  ‘You know it’s only because this place is showing me up to be a sleep-loving softy.’

  ‘I never
believed the Bear Grylls thing anyway.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘Not for a second.’

  His smile widened, reaching his eyes, and Robin’s tummy shimmied in response.

  ‘I’d better get back,’ he said. ‘It’s already the afternoon and I’ve achieved nothing.’

  ‘No.’ She stepped forwards, shaking her head. ‘Not today.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not going back there today, or tomorrow.’

  His face creased into a frown and she grabbed his hand. Eclipse leapt up to her shoulder to watch the unfolding scene from the best vantage point.

  ‘You’ve had a shock, Will. I read all the letters, I read the last one, from your dad …’ He turned away from her, but she held on, squeezing his hand. ‘It’s awful, the whole situation, and I think … you need to take time out. Don’t go back there this afternoon, go into town or something, get some fresh air, and then tomorrow I’m giving you a tour of Campion Bay.’

  ‘There’s too much to do. You’ve been in there, and you know how little impact we’ve made, despite the long hours. It’s a huge house, she was there for so many years, storing things up …’

  ‘Exactly. So a day and a half away from it isn’t going to set you back too much, is it?’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ His green eyes flashed with irritation, but she held her ground.

  ‘Yes, I am. On this occasion. Look, Will, you’ve shown me these and I – I don’t know how to help, or what I can do about it, and I know you have to work it out on your own. But what I can do – because, let’s face it, it’s my job – is provide some TLC, which you could really do with right now.’

  ‘You’re a guesthouse owner, not a counsellor.’

  ‘Exactly. My expertise is in having a good time, and that’s what I’m offering. Just think about it, please. Don’t go back to that house for the next couple of days.’

  He stared at her, his chest rising and falling. She waited, biting her lip. Her hand still held his, and she focused on how warm it was, despite the sudden coldness of his expression. She knew he wasn’t angry with her, but she was prepared to take it if it would help him feel better. She didn’t look away.

  Eventually, he hung his head, his breath coming out in a long exhalation. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, and then released his hand, turned and walked away from her.

  She sagged back against the counter, listening as he trudged towards Sea Shanty – picking up the letters? She waited to hear his tread on the stairs as he made his way up to Starcross, but instead she heard him call sharply to Darcy, and then the front door banged. She closed her eyes and swore under her breath, trying to believe that he was heading into town and not back to Tabitha’s house. Had she overstepped the mark? She didn’t think so – for once she wasn’t regretting what she’d said to him. But he was hurting, and he had to deal with it in his own way.

  Trying to push thoughts of Will out of her mind, reminding herself that he wasn’t her only guest, Robin turned back to the hob and polished it until it gleamed.

  She checked a couple in their mid-twenties, Katy and Dean, into Wilderness, and a retired couple from Orkney into Andalusia. Elisabeth and Charles were travelling the whole of the south coast, finishing with a trip to Paris on the Eurostar. Robin was impressed, and a little bit envious, when they told her they’d spent several nights in Cornwall glamping close to the beach. She offered them all afternoon tea, and when Emily and Jonathan returned from a trip on a mackerel boat, she ended up setting teapots and cake along the table for them all in Sea Shanty. Tim’s flowers were still impressively radiant, and Katy commented on them.

  ‘They’re from a friend,’ Robin said, giving her what she hoped was a relaxed smile.

  ‘Friend, eh?’ Charles cut off a chunk of coffee cake with his fork. ‘It’s a good friend that buys flowers like that. They speak of deeper feelings than friendship.’

  ‘Oh, Charles, don’t be so impertinent,’ Elisabeth said. ‘Honestly. Do ignore my husband, Robin. He feels he has to comment on everything.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Robin said, ‘comment away. Unless you’re going to tell me you hate the rooms. That would be hard to take.’

  ‘Oh shush.’ Elisabeth gave her a disapproving look. ‘You’re only saying that because you know we couldn’t possibly hate them. Your guesthouse is beautiful, you should be very proud. And cake, too!’

  ‘I didn’t make these,’ Robin confessed. ‘They come from the teashop up the road. Ashley and Roxy bake them all. They have a great afternoon tea offer on a Sunday as well.’

  ‘We might go tomorrow,’ Emily said, ‘for one final hurrah. I don’t want this week to end.’

  ‘We’ll come back, love.’ Jonathan put his hand over hers.

  ‘I’ve got special deals for returning customers,’ Robin said. ‘I’ll show them to you when you check out, and you can have a think.’ She grinned as Emily’s eyes widened in delight, and realised how good it felt to be talking about normal, guesthouse things, about her rooms and Campion Bay to visitors who were here on joyous, uncomplicated holidays.

  The events of earlier that day had been preying on her mind – she hated the way Will had looked at her. She had his best interests at heart, and yet there was this niggling voice that reminded her about Molly’s plan, the random acts of kindness designed to make Will feel part of Campion Bay, and her own part in going along with Molly’s deception. She hadn’t told him about her – and others’ – fears that Tim would buy Tabitha’s house and ruin the seafront. And she hadn’t told him about Neve, that the friend she missed so much was the inspiration behind her guesthouse. Why hadn’t she just been honest with him from the start?

  She made fresh pots of tea and sat alongside Elisabeth, cutting herself a slice of lemon drizzle cake. Charles began telling a story about how their tent in Cornwall – during their attempt at straightforward camping – had been invaded by a large, docile cow, nearly giving them a heart attack and making them rethink their accommodation.

  ‘That’s when we decided to give glamping a go,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘They promised no cows.’

  ‘They couldn’t guarantee entirely bug-free nights,’ added Elisabeth. ‘But the odd spider or bumble bee is fine.’

  ‘Even I can’t promise that,’ Robin said. ‘I found a peacock butterfly in here yesterday.’

  ‘That’s not surprising with those flowers making it smell like Kew Gardens!’ Charles sniffed exaggeratedly.

  Robin chuckled, but her laughter died out quickly when she heard the front door clicking softly closed, as if someone was trying to come in unnoticed. She heard the unmistakable patter of Darcy’s paws on the floorboards and then saw Will walk past the doorway.

  ‘Give me a second,’ she said to her guests. She went into the hallway and pulled the door of Sea Shanty closed behind her. ‘Will?’

  He stopped on the second stair and turned slowly to face her, his arms hanging limply at his sides. His face had a sheen of sweat on it, and his white T-shirt was covered in tell-tale smudges.

  ‘Robin.’ She looked for signs of anger but couldn’t find any, his expression open and contrite. He took a step towards her, and she noticed he was sucking on one of his rhubarb-and-custard sweets. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, then crunched the sweet and swallowed it. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. I was rude to you, it was unforgivable.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. I forgave you as soon as you left. Being angry is understandable—’

  ‘But not with you.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve been so kind and generous, so patient with me. You’ve gone out of your way to make me feel welcome.’

  Robin swallowed. ‘Will, about that.’ She had to tell him what Molly had done. She reached out and took his hand but he snatched it away, pain flashing across his face. She stared at him, stared down at his arms. Darcy was sitting next to the stairs, and now she pawed at Will’s leg, whimpering softly.

  ‘What have you done?’ Robin a
sked.

  Will huffed angrily. ‘It was stupid.’

  ‘What was?’ Very gently, she took his arm, and saw that the skin around his left wrist was bluish and puffy round the bone. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘You were right about not going back there.’ He winced as she pressed his skin. ‘I was angry, and when a cupboard door got stuck, I got impatient and pulled it, and it fell on my wrist.’

  ‘The cupboard?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s just bruised.’

  ‘I’d love to say it serves you right, but that would be cruel. I’m sorry you’re hurt. How bad does it feel? Do you want me to drive you to the walk-in centre?’

  ‘Some frozen peas will be fine, if you can spare any? And I do deserve it. You were right.’

  ‘I was bossy.’

  ‘You were right, Robin.’ He pushed her chin up gently with his finger. ‘I’m so sorry for the way I behaved. I dumped all my problems on you, and then when you tried to be kind I couldn’t hack it. And here I am again, needing your help.’

  Relief mingled with the fireworks his touch was sending through her. ‘You tried to sneak past,’ she said, grinning. ‘You weren’t going to ask for my help.’

  ‘I would have done, once I’d cooled down. The cupboard got the rest of my anger, after it had the cheek to fall on top of me. It does seem that, for the moment at least, I can’t get very far without you.’

  Robin let the words sink in, unsure what to say as pleasure washed over her. She was vaguely aware of laughter coming from Sea Shanty, and the fact that Darcy was now pawing at her leg as well, unhappy at being left out. ‘Your wrist isn’t going to stop you playing crazy golf, is it? I’ll be heartbroken if I don’t get the chance to beat you.’

  Will’s green eyes met hers with the warmth she’d come to expect. ‘Maybe my one-handed swing will be needed after all. Even with a bruised wrist, I’m going to be pretty unstoppable. You’ll be licking your wounds before the end of the day.’