Chapter Six
Jamie
Over the next few days, I made good on my promise to Will to get out and explore Heather Bay.
I tried not to think about why I felt so beholden to a man I’d only met once and told myself it was just part of getting away from everything in London. After all, how was I supposed to work out what was bothering me about my life if I just moped around the hotel room, gazing out the window?
On the Saturday, I woke up late and had a leisurely breakfast at the hotel, delighted to find that the restaurant had beautiful views over the bay.
I ate my food while watching the fleet of fishing boats heading out to sea.
The day was cold, but it was bright and sunny, and I decided it would be a good day to explore the town itself.
I’d wrapped up warm and spent the day pottering around the narrow, cobbled streets and sticking my nose into all the tiny shops.
Many of them were closed for the winter season, but a few were open for a couple of hours, and I delighted myself by finding a small art gallery dedicated to local artists.
Some of the work was truly exquisite, and it hadn’t taken any convincing for me to hand over my credit card. I’d bought two pieces: one depicting the bay during a storm and one that showed the moors glittering under the snow with sheep picking their way through the heather.
It made me think of Will.
The next day, Sunday, I’d gotten into my car and driven up the narrow roads towards Hareford House, the castle-esque building on the cliffs above the bay.
A lot of people I knew found country houses terribly dull, especially because some of them lived in them and said they all looked the same after a while.
But after university, where I’d spent a lot of time looking at various paintings in various houses, I’d developed an appreciation for them.
Hareford House wasn’t one I’d visited before, and I declined the guided tour to spend a glorious few hours walking around and taking in every detail.
One of the staff members informed me that some of the house was closed because they were starting to set it up to film for a new period drama, something the staff seemed very excited about.
The only period drama I’d watched was Bridgerton because Daisy had insisted I watch it with her.
I’d protested loudly, telling her it was tedious, but at least some of the men had been hot enough to make it worth it.
I made a mental note to mention this one to Daisy to see if she knew anything.
If the cast was sexy, I’d probably agree to watch it, if only for the prospect of seeing the actors naked.
After I’d finished exploring the house, I walked around the gardens, stopping by a low stone wall to look out over the fields and moorland beyond. There were a few sheep grazing, and I wondered if they belonged to the house’s estate or to another farm. It made me think of Will again.
I assumed he’d be working today based on the knowledge of farming I could dredge up from the depths of my memory.
I’d loved books about animals and books set on farms when I was younger, and I remembered sitting in bed with my nanny, Julia, while she read to me, and then, when I was old enough, sitting next to her on my sofa as I stumbled through reading them back to her.
Thinking about Julia reminded me that her birthday was coming up, and I made a mental note to send her a present.
She’d moved back to Germany a couple of years ago with her husband and their daughters, so I didn’t see her as much as I used to, but I still called her every couple of weeks and sent her the most beautiful presents I could find.
I actually spoke to her more than my own mother these days.
I watched the sheep for a little longer, until I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, then I kept walking.
Even from the hints he’d given me, it was obvious Will’s life was completely different from mine.
But there was something intriguing about that.
I had no idea what it was like to dedicate your life to something in the way that farming required.
I could barely grasp what it involved beyond long hours in all weather.
To be that dedicated to something was an utterly alien concept to me.
It was just starting to snow when I reached my car, and as I drove back to town, I wondered if the weather would make Will’s life more difficult.
It kept snowing all night, and by Monday morning, the whole town was covered in a thick blanket of snow. It was incredibly picturesque, and even though I hated being cold, I wrapped up warm after breakfast and went for a stroll.
Everything was just as beautiful outside with the snow sparkling under the late morning sunshine and crunching under foot.
It reminded me of something from a Christmas card or one of those photos in the luxury travel and home magazines we’d had at home.
I’d always assumed those pictures had been Photoshopped beyond recognition, but clearly, I’d been wrong.
The feeling of joy lasted for all of ten minutes. Then I started to lose feeling in my feet. Apparently, the incredibly expensive boots I was wearing were more aesthetically pleasing than warm.
Turning down a side street, I saw the sign for a coffee shop and quickly ducked inside. A bell rang as I pushed the door open, warm air and the smell of coffee and cake enveloping me in a cosy hug.
“Morning!” called a voice from behind the counter. It belonged to a tall man with blond hair pulled back into a small bun, whose welcoming smile perfectly matched the shop’s atmosphere. “Bit nippy out, isn’t it?”
His face rang a bell of familiarity, but I struggled to place him.
I knew I hadn’t been into the shop before, and it hadn’t been at Hareford House or in any of the other shops either.
Then, as I walked towards the counter, it hit me.
Friday night. The pub. He’d been sitting with the group Will had been talking to.
Was everything in this town determined to remind me of him?
It was too late to leave now, though, and I just had to hope the man wouldn’t say anything. If it were London, I’d know for sure, but in Heather Bay, everyone seemed so much friendlier.
“Just a little,” I said, giving him a small smile as I looked up at the large chalk boards on the wall behind the counter.
Above the top of the drinks menu, the words Novel Tea were written in sweeping cursive.
My first thought was that it was a cute name for a coffee shop, my second was how cheap the drinks were in comparison to my local Starbucks.
“What can I get for you?” asked the man. “We’ve got all the regulars up there and a few specials over there.” He pointed at the second board, and I noticed a list of monthly specials.
“Can I get a pot of tea, please?” I asked, my eyes turning to scan the counter in front of me, which was full of delicious-looking cakes and pastries.
It hadn’t been too long since I’d had breakfast, but I was cold and miserable, and I was sure some of the snow had seeped into my shoes. “And one of the cinnamon buns too.”
“Sure, what tea did you want?” He gestured to a shelf behind him, which had a line of jars, each of them with neatly written labels stuck to the front.
“English breakfast is fine, thank you.” I didn’t drink a lot of tea, tending to prefer coffee, but this just seemed like the place for it.
I reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet, glancing around the shop as I did.
It wasn’t that busy, but that was hardly surprising considering it was barely eleven on a Monday and the whole town was covered in snow.
There were a variety of tables scattered around, each surrounded by a collection of mismatched chairs, and one wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each shelf overflowing with paperbacks.
In another scenario, the whole thing might have looked messy, but there it just looked oddly charming and eccentric. It welcomed you into the rabbit hole and invited you to make yourself comfortable for as long as you wanted to stay. All it needed was a hookah-smoking caterpillar or a grinning cat.
“So,” the man behind the counter said as he rang everything up on the till, “just visiting for a few days?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering if he was just making polite conversation or trying to dig. “Just a short break. Although, I might not have picked the best time of year.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s cold, but it’s quieter, and Heather Bay is bloody beautiful in the snow.”
“That’s true,” I said. “It’s very picturesque.”
I tapped my card on the reader and slipped it back into my wallet while the man reached into the counter for a cinnamon bun and slipped it onto a plate.
“Grab a seat,” he said. “I’ll bring it over with your tea in a second.
Help yourself to a book if you want one.
They’re free to read while you’re here, and if you want to take one, we just ask for a small donation, or you can swap it for one of your own. ”
“Thanks.” I smiled and looked around the room, eventually choosing a small table near the window.
It had just started snowing again, and I liked the idea of watching it fall.
It felt like such a simple, childlike thing to do, but right then, it was all I wanted.
I’d spent so much of my adult life indulging my every whim, but it had very rarely involved small things like watching rain on the window or the sun setting over the horizon, the little wonders that made the world beautiful.
“Here you go,” the man said a few minutes later as he set a pot of tea on the table accompanied by a cup and saucer, a little jug of milk, and my cinnamon bun.
I tore my eyes away from the window, where the snow was quickly filling up the footprints that had been left on the cobblestones. “Oh, thanks.”
“No worries.” He paused like he wanted to say something, then added, “I’m not being nosy, but you were in the pub on Friday, right?
” I stared at him, and he continued. “I’m not trying to be weird, I promise.
I was just there with my friends. We go every week.
I, er, I think you might’ve met one of them. Will.”
“And if I have?” I asked, trying to work out what the fuck was going on.
Will had muttered something about being interrogated when he’d joined me at the bar, and from what I’d seen, this man had been part of that group, so it was probably useless pretending I hadn’t left with Will.
In fact, it seemed like his friends had practically thrown him at me.
“Sorry, I don’t mean anything by it. I just… I don’t know whether you wanted to see him again, and if you do, if you had a way of getting hold of him.”
Was he offering to give me Will’s number? I didn’t know if that was sweet or brazen. Still, I had regretted not asking for it before Will left.
Sometimes with my hook-ups, I knew I wasn’t interested in another round as soon as we’d finished, but when I was interested, I always tried to make sure I could find them again to ask, even if it was just grabbing their Instagram handle or finding them on Grindr. But with Will, I had nothing.
I didn’t even have a last name so I could do some casual social media stalking.
“No, I don’t have his details.” I knew I sounded frosty, but it was more from shock than anything.
I’d always loathed the idea of fate or the universe having a plan or any of that bullshit, but even I had to admit this felt a tiny bit like a sign.
Even if it was just being in the right place at the right time.
Although, since this was a small town, it was possible I would have bumped into him again anyway.
“Do you want them?”
“Will he mind if you give them to me?”
The man frowned and pursed his lips. “Okay, hang on a second. I’ll be right back.” He shot me a grin. “I’m Spencer by the way. Welcome to Heather Bay.”