Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The timing couldn’t have been any worse if she’d tried. Daniel had just finished chatting to the postman when Fern walked out of the front door of Edgar’s office, and they locked eyes for just a moment before he looked up at the solicitor’s sign flapping in the breeze.
Damn. She could feel the guilt written all over her face.
‘You’ve been to see Edgar then?’ he said flatly.
Fern hesitated. ‘Daniel…’
He bristled. ‘You went to him for advice, didn’t you? To get me out. You’re trying to sell this place.’
Fern exhaled, steeling herself. ‘I was just weighing up my options. I thought it was the responsible thing to do.’
‘I have a legal tenancy agreement.’
‘I know, and I’m sure we are able to work something out.’
His voice rose slightly with frustration and what sounded like a bit of hurt. ‘You haven’t even given me a month. I thought we had an agreement. But no, you waltz in here, thinking you know best, when really you don’t have a clue about this place. What it means to me. What it meant to Matilda.’
‘Shall we take this inside?’ she suggested gently. ‘We don’t need to have this conversation for the whole of Puffin Island to hear.’
Daniel stepped inside the shop, leaned against the desk and stared at her. He clearly wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
‘I’m trying to be practical! Just look at this logically for a second. The shop barely gets customers, Daniel, and even when it does, it’s not making enough income to keep it afloat long-term. How can you not see that?’
‘Oh, I see plenty,’ he shot back. ‘I see that you don’t want to try. That you’d rather run back to London and leave all this behind because it’s messy and unpredictable and doesn’t fit into your perfectly organised life.’
‘That’s not fair,’ she protested, though secretly she could see his point.
Daniel exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. ‘What about us?’ he asked, his voice quieter now. ‘What happens to us?’
Fern’s stomach tightened. ‘Daniel … this … this … is…’ She fell silent.
‘I want to hear you say it.’ His gaze bore into hers, unwavering. ‘Was it just a one-night stand after too much wine?’
She hesitated, her throat dry. ‘We’re adults,’ she said finally, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
‘So you’re saying it was just a bit of fun, to keep you amused, boost your ego, whilst you were here? A way to pass the time of day.’
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’
‘It sounds like it to me.’
‘I do like you, Daniel, I would hope that goes without saying. And yes, I shouldn’t have gone to Edgar behind your back. That was wrong. But you and I … we’re different people, from different worlds.’
He huffed a laugh, but there was no real humour in it. ‘Different worlds? Is that how you see it?’
‘I like order. I work every hour I can. I play hard with my friends. I even like paying my bills on time. I don’t fly by the seat of my pants.’
‘Let’s get this straight. What you’re saying is you regret it happening now because you suddenly realise that I don’t drive a flash car, drink cocktails in London bars, have a job that pays a decent salary, and most probably wouldn’t fit in with your life and friends.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ This was such an awkward conversation.
Why had she complicated things by falling into bed with him?
She knew exactly why: because she found him drop-dead gorgeous.
He definitely wasn’t like her usual type – he was sensitive and shared his feelings – but that was like a breath of fresh air to her.
‘You didn’t have to.’ He shook his head, a mixture of disappointment and disbelief in his eyes. ‘You’re looking down on me. Judging me by the way I choose to live my life. You think it’s beneath you.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Isn’t it? You think I don’t work? That I don’t try?
That just because I don’t measure life in how much I can control, it makes me some kind of failure?
I live, Fern. I enjoy things as they come.
I don’t stress about nonsense like bill reminders or whether my dinner plans fit into a Google calendar.
I take people as they are. I like them for who they are, not for what they have. Maybe you should try that sometime.’
Fern swallowed. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but was he? That’s exactly how she had been living her life and, right at this moment, she wasn’t proud of it. The silence stretched between them. Then, without another word, Daniel turned and walked away.
‘Daniel. Please don’t go.’
‘I just need some space.’
She watched him walk out the door and down the lane. She couldn’t really blame him. After closing the door, she sat down at the desk and glanced towards Gerald, who was leaning against his wardrobe door with a SOLD sign hanging around his neck.
‘I think it’s safe to say I’ve messed up, Gerald.’ She sighed and wiggled the computer mouse. The screen lit up and a quick glance at the open sales page showed a neat little total in the corner.
￡300.
She stared at it, stunned. Daniel had already made three hundred quid today. Maybe she had underestimated him and the shop.
Fern knew she needed to find him and talk to him.
She didn’t want to let things fester. She had been wrong about the way she had handled this, and though she could be stubborn, and had never been one to apologise easily, this was different.
Daniel was different. He was getting under her skin, making her question everything she thought she knew.
It only took a second a lock up the shop and turn the sign to CLOSED.
Now, where did someone go on Puffin Island when they needed space? Her guess was the bay.
She wandered down the narrow, winding street, scanning the crowds along the beach. It was busy and as she glanced towards the Cosy Kettle she spotted Amelia talking to Becca.
‘Hey, sorry to interrupt, but have you seen Daniel?’
Amelia and Becca exchanged a glance before Amelia answered, ‘Yes, just now, but he didn’t look happy.’
‘That’s down to me. I owe him an apology.’
Amelia’s expression softened. ‘He headed up to the cliff top.’ She pointed towards the winding path that disappeared into the sand dunes.
‘Hope you can sort it. By the way, I was hoping to catch you today. There’s a few of us have drinks at the pub tomorrow night if you fancy it, just a girly thing we do each month. ’
‘Please do come, Fern!’ Becca encouraged.
‘That would be great.’
‘Fab! We’ll be meeting at seven,’ said Amelia.
Fern thanked the women before heading towards the cliff-top path via the sand dunes, which were covered with wild grass swaying in the breeze.
She climbed steadily, the sound of the waves becoming more distant.
At the top of the hill, a quaint cottage came into view.
It was beautiful and looked straight out of a storybook, with whitewashed walls and a thatched roof.
Wildflowers spilled over the garden wall, a riot of colour against the deep green grass.
Then she spotted him. Daniel was sitting on a weathered wooden bench, just near the cottage, looking out to sea.
It wasn’t just him that stole her breath away, it was the thousands of puffins dotting the cliffs and wandering in and out of their burrows.
She had never seen one before, and now they were everywhere.
Their little orange feet, their bright beaks, the way they bobbed and waddled – it was mesmerising.
The sheer number of them, nesting and gliding effortlessly over the waves, was unlike anything she had ever seen before.
It was a world away from the chaos of London, the deadlines, the constant drive to get ahead.
For a moment, she simply stood there, taking it all in.
Daniel must have sensed someone was there as he looked over his shoulder.
His expression was unreadable at first, and for a moment, she thought he might turn away.
But he didn’t. He simply watched as she made her way over and slid onto the bench beside him.
For a second neither of them spoke; they listened instead to the distant sound of the waves crashing below, felt the breeze blowing through their hair. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry.’
Daniel didn’t respond right away, but he didn’t move either.
Fern swallowed, summoning the nerve to continue.
‘I was wrong about everything. I should have considered how you felt before I barged in, acting like I had it all figured out. The truth is … I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’ve never inherited a shop, or met anyone like you.’
That got his attention. He turned slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. ‘What do you mean, “anyone like” me?’
‘Someone who genuinely cares about people, community, doing the right thing, and isn’t motivated by money.
’ She gave a shaky laugh and shook her head.
‘Which, honestly, scares the hell out of me. I didn’t come to Puffin Island expecting anything, or anyone.
It was supposed to be a quick visit to get the shop ready for sale, before going straight back to London. ’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘There’s a small part of me that’s afraid,’ she admitted quietly. ‘Afraid of this place, of what it’s starting to mean to me, and afraid of you. Because…’ She hesitated. ‘After speaking with Edgar, I’ve realised that Matilda left me this place for a reason. I just don’t know what that is yet.
‘This island is all about people and what they mean to each other. You wouldn’t get anyone in the apartment block where I live nipping in with a home-baked lemon drizzle to welcome you.
You’d get a grunt of a hello in the lift if you were lucky.
I’ve never really had that in my life. In my industry, people use each other for what they can get out of the relationship.
Friendships are superficial.’ The thought of Ella popped into her head.
Though she’d been a constant in Fern’s life since childhood, lately she’d found herself wondering if they were slowly becoming different versions of themselves, shifting in ways neither of them was ready to acknowledge.
Ella was still chasing the nights out and cheap thrills, whereas Fern could see a different future for herself, one that was a bit calmer, a bit quieter, and perhaps even had more … puffins?
‘Whatever is going on between us, it’s started to matter more to me than I’m ready to admit. I’m not used to anything that even resembles a real relationship.’
Daniel’s expression softened.
‘This isn’t going to sound great,’ she went on, ‘and I’m not proud of it, but in London everything moves fast, including relationships, if you can even call them that.
My focus has always been my career. The men I’ve been with were …
convenient. The kind who don’t ask for commitment.
Sometimes I didn’t even ask for their names.
It was easier that way. Detached. Safe.’
She glanced up, meeting his eyes. ‘I’ve made a habit of keeping my distance from anything real.’
Daniel’s voice was low when he finally spoke. ‘Isn’t that a little sad?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you think you deserve more?’
It was such a simple question, but it struck her like a blow.
She looked away, blinking back the tears, pretending to focus on the puffins even though they were a blur.
‘I don’t know,’ she said finally. ‘I think, somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that I didn’t.
That wanting more never worked out and was maybe even selfish.
I’ve always wanted to be an editor, to rise to the top, but the hours, the time and commitment needed, wouldn’t leave any space for anyone else, and that’s why I learned to keep things light.
Flirt, smile, walk away before anyone got too close.
That way, no one could hurt me. No expectations, no messy feelings, no heartbreak, and I could focus on making my work a huge success. ’
Daniel listened in silence.
‘I was good at it,’ she continued, laughing softly.
‘I became the kind of person who was always in control. Who didn’t need anything real.
But then I came here, and suddenly everything I thought I knew about myself started shifting.
’ Her eyes found his again. ‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, Daniel.
And that terrifies me because I don’t know how to be the kind of person who opens up. Who stays. Who tries.’
‘You don’t have to have it all figured out,’ he said gently. ‘You just need to be open to change and vulnerability.’
A tear slipped down Fern’s cheek before she could stop it and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. ‘I really don’t want to fall out with you.’
Daniel slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. She didn’t hesitate to lean into him. Wrapped up in his warmth, she felt a million miles away from her life in London.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘Go ahead. I don’t mind.’
She whipped her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. Ella.
‘It can wait.’
She knew exactly what the message would say. When are you coming home? There’s another party to attend.
But Fern wasn’t ready to answer that question just yet.
For now, she just wanted to sit here, beside Daniel, wrapped in his arms, savouring the moment and watching the puffins as they surfed the cliff-top breeze.