A Merry Mistletoe Wedding (16 page)

‘I … I don't know. Well, I
do
know, but nobody cares what I think. I'll go and feed the baby. I can't, I just
can't
think about bloody Christmas right now. I can't think about anything at all.'

Thea had also woken early in the morning, slid quietly out of bed so as not to disturb the still-sleeping Sean and slid her feet into the sheepskin slippers she kept at the house – the mornings were now too cold for bare feet. Christmas soon, she thought. Wedding soon. They must add up the numbers and order some champagne while there was still the chance of pre-season bargains. She must … find a dress. A new dress. Nothing like the old dress; not even close to the one that had been so pearly-tulle beautiful, that had had her name attached to it, hand-embroidered on a little silk tag, but which, in the end, had never left the shop. Right now wasn't the time to think about that. Sean was nothing like Rich; he may be laid-back and casual to a near-fault, but he'd never let her down the way Rich had.

Woody miaowed around her feet and threaded himself through her legs. ‘You'll trip me up, you mad cat,' she said to him, stroking his plush little brown ears. ‘And then I won't be able to get your breakfast because I'll be lying on the floor with bones broken.' Woody purred and narrowed his squinty blue eyes at her, clearly not caring. ‘OK, what is it today? Chicken flavour or fish?' She opened the old larder cupboard and pulled out the basket where Sean kept Woody's stash of food. Something glinted at her and she reached inside and from under the catfood sachets pulled out a silver bracelet studded with little red stones. ‘Isn't this pretty?' she said to the cat, showing it to him before placing the bracelet on the worktop. She'd ask Sean about it later as someone must be missing it. Probably, she decided, it belonged to Maria, who ran most of the domestic side of the Cove Manor rental business; she organized cleaning and also occasional cooking for those clients who preferred to go for the luxury of a partly catered option. She was often in and out of the stables here, talking to Sean and calling in to feed the cat if he was away. She kept some of the manor recipes here too and had spent many an hour over the past year discussing with Sean and Thea possible meal options for the clients.

Thea put Woody's food bowl on the floor and he tucked in greedily, making little grunting noises as he ate. As she watched him she idly picked up the bracelet again, turning it over and round and deciding, on second thoughts, that it didn't look much like something Maria would wear. She was a big jolly sort and her jewellery tended to be big and jolly too: brightly coloured wide wooden bangles; hand-crafted necklaces with large multi-coloured beads. This was delicate, fine and slender and she could see it was hallmarked but not engraved. Maria's daughter Daisy's, possibly? She sometimes came along in the school holidays and at weekends to help out for pocket money. She was a quiet girl, blushing at the slightest thing. The previous Christmas, Thea had accidentally caught sight of Daisy and Elmo kissing in the games room, table-tennis bats abandoned in favour of making the most of a piece from the massive clump of mistletoe that Sean had cut down from a tree in the nearby wood. They'd looked teenage-awkward but keen and she'd swiftly put herself out of viewing range so as not to embarrass the pair. Possibly Daisy had glimpsed Thea as she passed the door. It would explain why she never seemed to look Thea in the eye without going bright pink.

It was still dark outside but the kind of fuzzy dark that looks as if it's trying to rub itself out. Thea tried the bracelet on – it was a bit big for her and as Daisy was a skinny little teenager it was no surprise that it must have fallen off. She'd ask Sean about it later. It needed to find its owner.

‘Sam sent a text. He says Emily won't go out of the house. He doesn't know what to do with her,' Anna told Mike as they drove towards the south coast. Online, Anna had seen a gloriously positioned beachfront house near Marazion and had arranged for a viewing. ‘It's got to be worth a look, at least,' she'd said, flicking through photos on her iPad. ‘And there's a building that's described as a studio so maybe it's one of those serendipitous things that is “meant”.' Erring on the side of not getting over-excited by the prospect, Mike had said, ‘Or it could be a fancy word for a shed,' slightly annoying Anna in the process.

‘Well, Emily will have to get over that one,' Mike said, looking for the right exit at a complicated Penzance roundabout. ‘She'll have full-on agoraphobia at this rate.'

‘Hmm, well, that's about as much use as saying
pull yourself together
. I don't think it's something you just snap out of,' Anna told him. Sometimes, just sometimes, she remembered what it was about Mike that had made her go off the year before and be adventurous with someone else. He could be a bit damn set in his thoughts, so – and she recalled a phrase Thea sometimes used – so
last century
.

‘It'll be hormones. She'll be fine once they settle.'

Mike still didn't sound worried enough, in Anna's opinion. ‘Typical man,' she said. ‘Always blaming our woman-equipment. It couldn't just be that she's actually right to feel worried? Some of the world out there is pretty horrid, don't you think?'

Mike slowed as they approached the village and peered around him. ‘Down this lane here, I think. And there's parking. And no, I wouldn't say Emily exactly lives in a hotbed of civil disarray, not by any means. She's in one of the smart suburbs. One that's always described as “leafy”. Honestly, sometimes I can't help thinking that girl doesn't know she's born.'

‘Well, there is that. She could do with a bit of blessing-counting, but she could also get some medical help. Sam says she won't.'

‘She needs something to look forward to. There's Thea's wedding. Can't she try and be positive about that?'

‘You tell her then. Sam says she won't even discuss anything beyond whatever day they're currently on. We should go home as soon as we've seen Thea and Sean, help out a bit more with the children. You see, that's why I have qualms about moving so far away from them all. Where will we be when they need us?'

Mike stopped the car in a pull-in area alongside what looked like a fairly standard but large-scale Victorian cottage facing the sandy beach. To the side of it, there was a long detached building that looked like a garage but was presumably the studio, and there was plenty of space to park, which was at a premium in any Cornish village. ‘I don't know, Anna, but at least with a bit of distance, they get time to sort things out for themselves without us charging in all the time like the cavalry. Anyway, this is it. What do you think?'

Before Anna could reply to any of what he'd said, the front door opened and a woman with carefully piled-up hair and scarlet lipstick was facing them. She wasn't smiling. ‘You've a London registered car, I see.'

‘Er, oh, have we? Does it matter?' Mike said, looking puzzled. Anna almost giggled: Mike almost certainly hadn't a clue about his car registration number. She remembered, when they'd been pulled up by the police once for having a dodgy brake light, and Mike hadn't even been able to remember what make the car was, let alone the number.

‘You have. You're from up-country,' the woman accused him. She seemed reluctant to let them in. Anna felt a bit cross. It couldn't be their appearance: West Cornwall had plenty of men of Mike's age with grey hair and a Willie Nelson-style bandana, not to mention women with boat-like purple shoes and colourful multilayered clothes. The area was rammed with pension-age hippies.

‘We've come to see the house. We do have an appointment,' Mike said. ‘Or have we got the wrong place? Are you Mrs Carter?'

‘Yes, it's for sale. But not to second-homers.' She still wasn't about to open the door any further, Anna could see. They'd apparently failed whatever test there was by having the wrong car. She felt quite annoyed. If this house was for local residents only, then why had it been advertised to all and sundry on a national website?

‘OK,' Anna said. ‘Well, we aren't looking for a second home, just a regular one. But we're sorry to have wasted your time.' She turned to go, feeling horribly unwelcome.

‘Oh well, now you're here …' Mrs Carter said, opening the door another few inches, ‘… you might as well come in and have a look.'

‘Thank you,' Mike said, treating her to an undeserved broad smile as they went inside.

The first thing that took Anna's breath away was the view. The front might have looked fairly traditional with big sash windows but the inside had been transformed. The entire back wall of the house, opening off from the kitchen and a large family room, consisted of folding glass doors leading to a broad stone terrace with steps to a small grassy garden with deep flower beds on each side. Beyond was the beach, the sea and the great rocky rising of St Michael's Mount.

‘Oh, wow,' Anna said.

‘Everyone says that.' The owner stood with her arms folded, glaring at the view. ‘I suppose you'll want to see the rest of it.'

‘That's the idea,' Mike said. ‘If that's all right with you.' Anna gave him a nudge. She liked what she'd seen so far and didn't want to lose what slim chance an applicant from the wrong side of the Tamar River could possibly have of being in with a shout at buying this. Apart from the big family kitchen at the back, there were two other rooms at the front, both beautifully and freshly painted the colour of clotted cream, each with a new-looking wood-burner and plenty of deep, built-in shelf space. Anna felt pleased about that – she was willing to have a cull of her massive book collection but it would still leave a lot that needed accommodating.

Upstairs were three bedrooms each with its own bathroom, all simply furnished, painted in gentle seaside shades of white and palest greeny-blue and looking, Anna thought, like something utterly gorgeous from
Livingetc
magazine. She loved everything about the place, even how someone had thought it a good idea to paint exposed ceiling beams in a soft grey. In fact she felt heart-tremblingly excited about this house in a way she would never have thought likely. It wasn't
so
different in age or style from their own house, but lacked all the worn-out and crumbling bits that were about to become an endless money-pit if they stayed in it. The thought of a low-maintenance home, of being able to run the heating without expecting the boiler to go into a terminal sulk, was strangely exhilarating. Below, she could see from the main bedroom window, alongside the lawn, flourished huge clumps of agapanthus. At the far end was a group of echiums, half-grown to only about three feet now but next summer they would send great bolts of flower spikes over ten feet in the air. She wanted, more than anything, to be here to see them when they did. It was like falling in love. It was more intense than the crazy zinging she'd felt when she'd first got together with Alec the year before. It was better than that, in fact – this time she knew it wasn't going to be cut through with a huge dose of guilt and regret.

‘Has it been on the market long?' Mike asked.

‘If you're thinking of offering less than the asking price, don't even bother. This one will go in no time,' the woman said. ‘It's not been on long but I've had quite a lot of interest.'

‘It's beautiful,' Anna said. ‘Just gorgeous and it has a great vibe to it. I mean look, it's a few days off November and it's still sun-warmed and glorious.'

Mrs Carter's face finally cracked into a smile. ‘“Great vibe”? My husband used to say that. He's gone now, though, so I don't suppose I'll hear it much again. You just reminded me there for a second.'

Anna said, ‘Oh, I'm so sorry,' and reached out to put a sympathetic hand on her but the woman moved back, holding gold-nailed hands up as if to fend her off. She came out with a vibrant cackle.

‘Oh, he's not
dead
. Far bloody from it. He's living it up in Sennen with a nineteen-year-old waitress.
And
her mother. Good luck to the three of them, is what I say. He's fifty-six, the gullible sod. He buggered off without a backward glance just because some kid wiggled her skinny arse at him. Even gave up his beloved pottery. That's not a garage out there, it's, or it
was
, his studio. He had this idea he'd be the next Bernard Leach, bless his delusional ego. But in the end he could never turn a jug handle that didn't look like a dead bird perched on a tree trunk. I sold the kiln.' She turned away to the fridge and opened the door, taking out an opened bottle of white wine. ‘Drink?' she offered.

‘Er, no thanks,' Anna said, wondering what comment would be appropriate about the runaway husband.

‘I suppose you think it's
too early
,' Mrs Carter said, ‘and you're right. But in my case, it's too late, if you get my drift. I'm off out of this godawful place and I'm going to the big city.'

‘Ah, off up to London then?' Mike said.

‘No I am not. I wouldn't go there if you paid me. Truro, here I come.' She took a large gulp of wine.

Anna glanced at Mike and then quickly looked away again as she could see he was trying not to laugh and she knew it would be catching.

‘You promise this won't be just for weekends and you can have the place. Asking price that is, no messing about. I put everything into getting it just right and I don't want it sat empty for forty weeks of the year. Got all the ideas from
Elle Decoration
. But local slate and everything and craftsmen from the area. Got to be loyal to your neighbourhood.' She waved her arm to encompass the maple kitchen units, the granite worktops, the dark walnut floor of old wide planks. ‘It was our bolt-hole,' she went on, her voice sad and low. ‘But then the bastard went and bolted.'