The Cornish Cottage By the Sea (Sandpiper Shores #1)
Prologue
PROLOGUE
‘How can people ever think of leaving here? This is just glorious! I don’t think I’ve ever loved a place more.’
I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the window, which overlooked the golden sandy beach of Sandpiper Shore, where the sea shimmered in the midday sun. We had been watching Aunty June’s next-door neighbour move out that morning.
‘Oh, trust me, Jo. This place always looks better when the sun shines. Remember you’ve only ever been here for a holiday. When you live here permanently and it’s chucking it down non-stop for the third week on the trot, you’ll probably be glad to leave here too.’
Not even a little bit possible, I thought to myself. Even torrential rain of biblical proportions for six months solid wouldn’t make me fall out of love with this fabulous cottage in this stunning village by the sea. People who didn’t appreciate it fully didn’t deserve to live in a place like this.
‘Well, Aunty June, if you ever think about selling, make sure you let me know. I’d snap your hand off!’
Little did I know how a flip comment like that would be so very life-changing.
A huge turning point in my life occurred a good few years later one grey, miserable, drizzly afternoon. Putting the bins out was the job I hated more than anything else. It was always Michael’s job when we were married and probably one of the only things he did around the house. Feeling incredibly sorry for myself and having a little tear at the realisation that this was now my life, cursing the fact that now I was a divorcee and lived alone I had to do everything myself, I was quite startled when my home phone rang. The fact that someone hadn’t called my mobile should have set alarm bells ringing straight away.
‘Hello, is that Joanna Jenkins?’
I knew I recognised an accent but couldn’t quite put my finger on where from. Also, no one called me Joanna unless it was someone official, which threw me right off.
‘It is. Who is this, please?’ I hoped it wasn’t another marketing call. They were happening more and more these days.
‘Hello, Joanna, my name is Rebecca Farringdon, from Farringdon and Sons solicitors in Sandpiper Shore in Cornwall. I’m calling with two bits of news regarding a Mrs June Cooper. I believe she was the aunt of your husband.’
I sighed loudly.
‘Yes, that’s right. June is Michael’s aunt.’ Quite quickly, a penny dropped. ‘Oh! You said was ?’
‘Yes. I’m so sorry to be the one to inform you of the death of Mrs Cooper, Joanna. She passed away a few weeks ago after a short spell in hospital.’
‘Oh, poor Aunty June. How sad! I didn’t even know she’d been poorly. As you know, she is, well, was, my husband’s aunt.’ I could feel myself wittering on but couldn’t seem to stop myself. ‘She never had children of her own, and I think I was the only one she ever got on with and because of that, the only one who ever bothered with her really. We kind of lost touch over the last few years. Fiercely independent and wouldn’t accept any help. Cut herself off from us all. Didn’t want to be a burden to anyone in her old age apparently.’
I sat down on the stairs where I’d picked the phone up, feeling quite sad. I had really like Aunty June and felt like we had a special connection.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Joanna. Mrs Cooper left instructions for me to contact you should anything happen to her, and talk to you about the property.’
‘Do you not mean Michael?’
‘No, definitely you.’
‘Oh, OK, but in what way?’ I couldn’t even begin to imagine why she was contacting me about this and it was scrambling my brain a little.
‘Mrs Cooper said in her letter that you’d always been very fond of her little cottage?’
‘Err… Yes, I was, although it’s not so much of a little cottage. A blooming huge one with loads of outbuildings more like. I used to wonder how she got on rattling around in that big old place.’
Aunty June’s home was absolutely glorious and in such a stunning location. I’d always loved Sandpiper Shore. When Michael and I were first married we couldn’t afford a honeymoon, so she let us come and stay with her. Then, when we had children, we never had much money so we used to go for our family holidays. Sometimes just me and my girls when Michael was busy working. Our time there was always so much fun and she made us feel so welcome. We last visited five or so years ago, Michael and me. It was our anniversary and June was going on holiday and had asked us to look after the house for her. Over the years she’d had extensive work done and she’d started converting one of the outbuildings into a holiday let and had ambitious plans to do so much more with the rest of the property, despite her age. I frowned, still wondering what on earth this had to do with me.
The solicitor continued.
‘As instructed by Mrs Cooper, the property has been valued and she wanted you to have it.’
Confused, as Rebecca’s words started to sink in, there were lots of things instantly whirring around in my head.
‘What do you mean have it? I can’t afford to buy a house of that size. At the moment, I can barely afford to live in the rented flat I own. She obviously hadn’t heard of how, well… how my circumstances have changed since I last saw her.’
‘Ah, sorry, Joanna, I clearly didn’t explain myself very well. She has willed the cottage to you on the strict condition that you move in.’
‘ What ? To me? Oh, God. Now why on earth would she do something like that? And I have to move in?’
Much as I’d always said I wanted to live by the coast, it had always been a pipe dream. Something that I could dream about. The reality was very different.
‘I can’t possibly do that. I live miles away. I can’t just drop everything and move to the seaside.’ I ran my hands through my hair, catching sight of myself in the mirror opposite. Some days I didn’t even recognise myself. Talk about a hot mess. Tear-marked, mascara-stained cheeks were not my greatest look. ‘I don’t know what to say, to be honest. Everything has changed since we last went to visit. It’s my husband, you see. He…’ Despite trying to keep it down, I could feel a crescendo of upset overtake me and I promptly burst into tears, not able to form the words to explain what had happened, though I did still try to apologise through the sobs.
‘Look, Joanna, I’ve clearly called at a bad time for you. I have an email address here which Mrs Cooper had written down.’ She read it aloud. ‘Is it still the same one?’
I nodded, then realised that I was on the phone and she couldn’t see me. Some days, I was quite ridiculous. Since I’d hit middle age, I seemed to have lost the ability to get my brain to work properly. Mental fog was real. I spluttered my affirmation instead.
‘Yes, the same one I’ve had for years.’
‘Right, then I suggest you take some time to compose yourself and maybe have a little think. I’m well aware that this will have come totally out of the blue for you too. I’ll confirm everything in an email, along with the conditions Mrs Cooper stipulated. Please do read it carefully. She was very specific. June did say that she knew how fond of her home you were when you visited and that she would love to think of it going to someone who would give it back what it deserves. I’ll ring you on Monday and see if you’ve had a chance to give it some consideration. No pressure at all, honestly, but I just wanted to let you know before the weekend.’
Then she was gone.
I stared at the phone in my hand, not quite believing what was happening. As soon as I laid eyes on Aunty June’s cottage, I had fallen totally and utterly in love with it. From the minute I walked on the shiny black and white tiles up the steps to the black glossed front door, with its stunning stained glass, encased under a brick arched porch, I’d felt a shiver run up my spine. Deceiving from the front, once inside, it went back and back, and the land outside was vast with many large outbuildings. When I saw the amazing views from the French doors and the wide sandy path that went straight onto the beach, I gave a huge sigh of envy. From its elevated position looking down onto the dunes and out to sea, the house had captured a very special place in my heart.
On our last visit, I had even commented that it had felt more like home than our own, much to my husband’s disapproval. He couldn’t understand that I loved this, in his words, ‘rickety old cottage’ more than the modern home he’d spent so much money on. In a strop, he declared that Aunty June’s place was a complete shithole and he wouldn’t live there if someone paid him. His mood didn’t improve when he had to drive back home and the M5 was full of stop-start traffic nearly all the way and when he realised that it had taken us nine and a half hours, he was furious. Happy anniversary to us!
A ping came from the phone to signify that I’d got an email and, sure enough, the solicitor had sent through the details. Luckily my phone was connected to the printer, one thing that my daughters did sort out when they last visited, and I printed out the letter and put it on the breakfast bar. Whilst putting a load of washing in the machine, my mind was all over the place.
‘Right, my lovely. Let’s feed you some lovely clothes, shall we?’
I shook my head at myself. Chattering away to the inanimate appliances and objects I shared my house with was a habit I’d acquired since I’d lived alone and went for whole days not talking to another human. Some days seemed to last for forty-eight hours. Sadly not in a ‘I’ve-got-so-much-to-do’ way but in a ‘oh-God-is-that-all-the-time-is’ way. I’d even resorted to buying and doing jigsaws, to pass the time of day when I didn’t feel like reading.
While preparing dinner, I realised that I hadn’t told the solicitor the full story about Michael. My middle-aged memory was shocking these days. June was Michael’s aunt, not mine, and when the solicitor knew that we weren’t married any more everything would change.
Maybe I wasn’t destined to live anywhere but this little village in rural Staffordshire. I turned my thoughts back to what to have for dinner, trying to dismiss the idea of that beautiful cottage overlooking the dunes of Sandpiper Shore from my mind.