Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
‘What’s she like then? She looked a total whinger from what I saw. Moaning about phone signal and WiFi when she’d only just got here.’
‘Cardinal rule of hospitality: don’t call the guests “total whingers”.’
‘I don’t want to work in hospitality. I’m only doing it to help you and because Auntie Elspeth keeps going on and on at me that I ought to be more grateful to you and pull my weight. Whatever the feck that means.’
Sam sighed. ‘Goodnight, Morven. Please be kind to Auntie Elspeth and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘If you last that long with Lily. She was evil to Tyrone on the Great British Craft Show .’
‘From what I read, “evil” is a bit harsh for what she said to that bloke.’ Sam checked himself before he ended up in a very heated debate with Morven whose opinions tended to be not simply polarised but sited at opposite ends of the universe to his. ‘I think Lily’s more worried about being stuck here with me than I am with her. Now, I have dinner to prepare so I suggest …’ He stopped, hearing footsteps outside the reception hub.
‘Is that her?’ Morven shrieked down the radio.
‘No,’ Sam exhaled in relief. ‘Now, I’ll see you tomorrow on Bryher.’
He didn’t tell Morven that Lily had demanded to be flown out of the place as soon as possible. After he’d shown her the cottage, he’d promised to take her over to Bryher in the morning, weather and tides permitting, so she could use the WiFi at his house and make some arrangements.
Before heading into the catering kitchen, he flicked the off switch and made sure the radio was set to send only. He couldn’t risk Morven coming on the radio insulting his new – and only – guest again, even if he’d been sorely tempted to shout at her himself since he’d picked her up from the heliport. He’d lost count of the times he’d regretted opening up before the retreat was ready, especially to a demanding business mogul used to five-star cosseting.
Since Morven had given him a lurid account of Lily Harper’s life to date, he’d wished he’d risked life and limb to ship her back to the mainland himself. When he’d agreed to the booking, her name hadn’t rung any bells with him – hardly surprising when he rarely watched TV.
Richie hadn’t mentioned anything beyond the fact Ms Harper was looking for an away from it all break at short notice, so Sam had expected a stressed-out exec – but not a ‘Z- list celebrity’ as Morven had put it.
He had to admit he’d checked out Lily’s Wiki entry. It turned out she wasn’t just any businessperson; she was a notorious businessperson who’d caused some kind of five-minute rumpus on a TV crafting competition.
But Sam didn’t really care about that. What he did care about was that his guest hated the retreat and thought he was an incompetent charlatan.
After the disastrous start, she would probably trash their reputation when she got home. He’d have to offer her a discount. In fact, he might offer her all her money back and hope she’d forget about him and move on to her next victim.
At least she’d seemed happy enough with Cowrie Cottage, which was just as well because the others weren’t ready for receiving guests. Or perhaps she’d been too exhausted to complain after her long journey. Sam had pointed out the facilities and the coffee- and tea-making tray with its mini hamper of local goodies, which he’d brought over earlier.
Lily’s relief at finding her accommodation was up to standard had both pleased and shamed him. The weather was shit, the journey had been horrible and her PA had said she’d been unwell. Added to which he’d found out that one of the Tresco gardeners had been talking to her at the heliport and God knows what he’d had to say. She hadn’t chosen this break – it had clearly been thrust upon her.
Then there was Morven. She’d done a decent job of preparing the cottage, even if she’d moaned about having to help. He was paying her a generous rate and allowing her far more leeway in her hours than any island hotel would have. They’d never have put up with her truculent attitude either. As her uncle, he had no choice. Her father – Sam’s older brother, Nathan – was living in the States, working as a games designer, and hadn’t been back to the islands for six months. He’d left Morven with Elspeth and Sam, promising to send for her when he’d found his feet.
But even though Nate now had an apartment and a job, there was still no sign of an invitation to his daughter. He had, however, told Sam that his new girlfriend Grady wasn’t super keen on the idea of having a ‘hostile seventeen-year-old moving into the condo’.
Morven had declared she’d rather poke out her eyeballs than move in with ‘The Gorgon’ as she called Grady. Though they’d never met in person, two Zoom calls had been enough.
Morven’s paternal grandparents – Sam and Nate’s mum and dad – lived near Exeter and she hadn’t wanted to up sticks and live with them either. She’d finished her A-level exams and hadn’t as yet made plans for September – now it was probably too late and Morven still wouldn’t discuss any options. Although she didn’t seem to want to move away or go to college, she moaned constantly about Bryher being ‘boring’ and ‘a dump’.
Sam had constantly to remind himself to cut her some slack. Nate had only been twenty-two – five years older than Sam – when Morven’s mum, Holly, had handed over custody of the baby to him.
Holly and Nate had had a brief holiday fling. Holly was married and had two young children already. Her husband had refused to let another man’s child live with them. She had been forced to make the very tough decision not to be involved in Morven’s upbringing. The upshot was that Nate had brought his daughter up with the help of his brother.
Her grandparents had done what they could, though living on the mainland, they could only see her during the holidays. Without their aunt Elspeth, Sam didn’t know how he and Nate would have coped at all.
Elspeth was like a surrogate grandmother while Nate was away and Morven did love her. However, the girl clearly sometimes felt she wasn’t wanted and didn’t fit in anywhere. If Sam was in her situation, he’d probably feel hurt and rejected too.
She’d been a big help to him when it had suited her, helping to paint and decorate the cottages, offering advice on the interiors with her flair for quirky design, yet he hated to see her wasting her talents and simply drifting around.
Sam was at a loss. He was trying to get his business off the ground. He was too old to be a friend to Morven and couldn’t be a replacement father to her. Nate was her dad, even if he was five thousand miles away.
So, they existed in an uncomfortable limbo, with Morven living in the attic suite at the top of Hell Bay House, Sam’s home. Elspeth was only a few hundred yards away in her own cottage. She and Morven made a formidable pair, with Morven rowing with her great-aunt one minute and then ganging up with her on Sam when it suited her.
At times, it was all too much for him and working on the retreat had provided a much-needed escape, from all kinds of issues he’d rather not confront.
On the downside, he’d practically had to abandon the building business he still owned with his mate Aaron, but there was no going back now. Too many locals had said he’d never finish the work.
Yet Sam had needed to throw himself into a project that was almost too big for him. The challenge of building the retreat had consumed him at a time when he was desperate for something to help blot out the grief and despair he was feeling. Gradually, Stark had become a place of solace too; somewhere he could escape into hard physical labour with the wildness of nature to comfort him.
That had been the idea behind calling Stark a ‘retreat’, not a ‘resort’. He’d always found it a place of sanctuary since he was a boy. If he and Nate had rowed, or if Sam just felt he needed space, he’d come over and lose himself amid the heather and ruins, or take his kayak and go fishing. Now, he hoped to share that with other people in need of peace and solace, who would surely benefit from the natural beauty of the island …
His heart sank. That didn’t seem to be happening with Lily: in fact, his half-finished project had only caused her further stress. Though he did wonder if any place, however luxurious or beautiful, could ever work its magic on such a driven character.
With a sigh, he tried to focus on preparing the evening’s meal. After checking the menu with Lily, he’d decided to make a lobster salad, followed by tarragon chicken. He’d eaten and cooked with Scilly seafood since he was young so the salad was a staple.
The leaves, like the tarragon, had been grown on the islands; only the chicken was brought in, chilled. Pudding wasn’t his strong point but Bryher’s café made wonderful cakes and desserts. He hoped Lily would enjoy the strawberry millefeuilles.
She’d seemed amazed that he was going to cook a three-course dinner, but of course was unaware he was used to cooking for himself and Morven.
He’d hastily unwrapped the plastic from the new chair in reception, added some coasters to the tables and lit the lamps. He then turned his attention to the small dining room, laying the table with the sea blue napkins and aqua glassware that Morven had chosen. The napkins were linen and, along with the top-notch cutlery, had cost more than he’d wanted to pay. However, with the addition of a tealight, he had to admit the table looked good.
It was such a shame that there was only one guest.
With an inner sigh, he walked back into the bar.
‘Hi there.’
Lily was shaking the drops off her umbrella in the entrance to the bar.
She was wearing spa slippers from her room, skinny jeans, and an oversize silky sweater that slipped off her slender frame. Her hair was still damp from the shower, fluffing round her head like a cherub’s. Sam did a double take. She looked more angelic than Morven’s description of ‘evil’, though he still braced himself for conflict.
‘Is everything OK with the cottage?’
Her reply disarmed him.
‘I wondered if –’ she said politely ‘– there was any fresh milk available. For a cup of tea?’
‘M–milk?’ Sam stuttered. ‘Ah, of course. Sorry, I meant to bring it round. I just popped the bottles in the fridge. I’ll be along with some ASAP.’
‘There’s no rush.’
That was probably a tactic. Her mention of ‘conceding’ had troubled him. Did she view her relationships with the people around her as skirmishes to be won?
Perched on a stool, her wraith-like presence seemed to make the bare shelves and lack of guests seem even more jarring.
‘I’m happy to wait here and collect it, to save you from having to come over. You must have a lot to do, being the only one here,’ she said.
Sam was about to retort but caught a hint of amusement in her blue eyes and remembered he was supposed to be a host.
‘If you wait here, I’ll put some in a jug.’
‘Thanks.’
He came back from the kitchen at the rear of the hub to find her still sitting on the stool and put the small jug of milk on the bar in front of her. ‘There you go, I’ll make sure it’s replenished if you need any more.’
‘Thank you. That should keep me going until Monday morning.’ Her eyes travelled to the bare shelves that he’d been meaning to stock with local spirits yet, so far, only held a cocktail shaker and glasses. ‘So, this is going to be your bar, is it?’
‘Yes, though I need to stock it, of course. Why?’
‘I was thinking that it could look really good,’ she said, gazing around her with narrowed eyes. ‘When it’s finished,’ she added with a mischievous glint in them.
Sam didn’t rise to the bait. He was doing his very best as it was but he hadn’t had time to put the final touches to the bar before he’d had to dash off to collect her from the airport. ‘It only needs a few bottles,’ he said. ‘And like I said, I brought over some gin, wine and some mixers earlier so there’s enough for a pre-dinner drink. I’m sorry the choice will be limited, only everything has to come over by boat.’
‘To be honest, before you mentioned the gin, I was half-expecting bread and water.’
This line was delivered with amusement so Sam decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and return the joke. ‘You haven’t tried my cooking yet.’
‘Oh, I can’t wait.’
Again, the teasing smile … And again, he was wrongfooted. He could see how she had got on in life. She was now an iron fist in a velvet glove, although earlier, he’d only experienced the iron fist.
‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ he asked. ‘Is your room comfortable?’ he asked, unable to disguise the hopeful uplift in his voice.
‘It’s – yes. It’s fine,’ Lily said.
She slid off the stool and picked up the milk, and her eyes went to the treasure chest that Sam had dumped on the end of the bar on his way in. ‘Don’t forget what your aunt Elspeth said about that chest.’
Inwardly, he swore. She had heard every word of the exchange on the quayside then. How could she have failed to? No wonder she was pissed off on the way to the island. ‘I won’t,’ he said, sounding gruffer than he’d meant to.
She seemed to be about to leave when she said, ‘May I ask what’s inside it? Your aunt seemed very insistent you should bring it over. Is it something to ward off evil spirits?’
‘You can take a look if you dare,’ he said.
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Oh, I always dare.’
He could well believe it and pushed the box towards her. ‘Please feel free.’
Lily undid the catch and – perhaps a little nervously – lifted the lid. Her mouth opened in surprise and then she burst out laughing.
‘Chocolate brownies. Highly significant.’
Sam wondered what on earth she’d expected. ‘Elspeth made them at the café. She thought you might need a treat in this horrible weather. Would you like one with your tea?’
‘Your aunt is a very perceptive woman,’ Lily murmured. ‘I’d love one.’
Having wrapped a brownie in a cocktail serviette, he handed it over, relieved he’d at least done something right with her room, the gin and the brownies – though he had to thank his aunt for the latter.
‘Now,’ he said lightly, ‘I must get on with dinner. Is seven-thirty still OK? Come across for seven if you want a pre-dinner drink.’
‘Oh, I do,’ she said, clutching her brownie as if it was treasure. ‘See you later.’