Chapter Eleven
‘ I guess so.’ This was it. There was no getting away from it now. Slipping onto one of the chairs, she waited until Isaac was sitting opposite her. ‘I really am sorry I spooked your dad. That was never my intention. I’d go and apologise to him myself, but I’m guessing he won’t appreciate it.’
‘Probably not.’ Isaac shook his head and drew his mug towards him. ‘He thought you were there to evict him.’
Drawing a quick breath in, Tilly’s face dropped.
Staring into her mug, she tried to push away the memories of the thudding at the door, of the bailiffs telling her what she’d been expecting, of the two burly men standing in the hallway, their eyes fixed to their watches as she rushed around them packing what little she could in the time they’d given her. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. I’m only joking.’ Reaching across the table, he placed his hand on hers. ‘Well, half-joking. The farmer has been asking him to leave for years now. He wants to get the cottages renovated and put them up as holiday lets, but my dad refuses to leave.’
‘He does?’ She clenched her hands around the mug as he drew his hand back. She must have really given him a fright then, climbing over the gate and letting herself onto his land.
‘Yep. But my dad’s lived there for twenty-five years now. Ever since he moved to the bay, he sees the cottage as his home.’
‘Oh, he moved there twenty-five years ago?’ Tilly slumped back in her chair.
He didn’t hold the missing piece of the puzzle then.
Not that she’d found any of the pieces. She would be celebrating her thirty-fifth birthday soon; twenty-five years was still way after her dad had lived in the bay.
She frowned as a thought occurred to her.
Had she gotten this so completely wrong?
Had she been intent on coming to Penworth Bay, assuming her dad lived here because of how fondly Aunt Gwen had spoken about the area?
She’d never actually said her dad had lived here.
What if he’d only been visiting? What if he’d just been here on holiday like her mum had?
She swallowed before forcing herself to ask the question she didn’t know she wanted the answer to. ‘Have they been holiday lets before?’
‘Nope. This will be the first time. They’ve always been tied to the farm. My dad worked there up until he was forced into early retirement due to an injury last year. Hence why he doesn’t want to move.’
‘Right.’ Relief flooded through her as she sat up straighter in her chair again. She wasn’t so far off then.
Pushing his mug away, Isaac tapped his fingers against the tabletop. ‘You still haven’t told me why you were there. Why you let yourself onto the land.’
Biting down on her bottom lip, Tilly averted her gaze.
Was she ready? What if he dismissed her quest with the laughter of someone who thought she was mad?
She wouldn’t blame him. After all, she wasn’t even looking for her dad; she was looking for memories, any snippet of information which might suggest who he was, what he was like.
Isaac tilted his head as he looked at her. ‘What is it? Why are you really in Penworth Bay?’
‘I’m looking for something.’ She pulled a paper serviette from under the sugar pot in the centre of the table.
Raising his eyebrows, Isaac grinned. ‘You’re a pirate, looking for treasure?’
Tilly burst out laughing. Just the way he’d said that, the ridiculous nature of his comment, had sliced through the uneasiness of his previous question.
‘I take that as a no then.’
‘No, sorry. I’m not a pirate.’ Wiping her eyes, which had smarted from the laughter, Tilly took a deep breath.
He deserved to know why she had climbed over the gate, and his dad deserved to know, too.
She knew first-hand how awful it was to be waiting for the infamous knock from the bailiffs, to wake up with that deep knot of apprehension in the pit of her stomach which only grew and grew until the evening when she’d let herself believe that today wasn’t in fact going to be the day she lost her home. ‘I’m looking for my dad.’
‘Your dad?’ Colour drained from his face. ‘You think my dad is... your dad?’
‘No, no, nothing like that.’ Tilly held her hands up, her palms facing forward as she quickly continued. ‘He used to live in your dad’s cottage. Or I think he did. I’m not sure. He passed away before I was born, before my mum even knew she was pregnant.’
‘Phew.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry, that’s not the reaction I should have given. I meant ‘phew’ as in I’m relieved we’re not related.’
‘Cheers.’ She frowned. Was she so bad a person that it would be a horrendous idea if they were?
Or did that relief come from an entirely different place?
She looked at him. He was so easy to talk to, so easy to get along with, and there was something special about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but whatever it was, she knew she liked it.
‘Not like that.’ He chuckled before leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair. Blinking, his expression turned serious. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your dad. What details has your mum given you about him? Perhaps we can track down someone who knew him?’
‘My mum passed away too when I was just a baby. My aunt brought me up.’ She closed her eyes momentarily, waiting for the inevitable pity party she’d so come to be used to.
She knew people only meant well, but it was what it was, and she’d learned to accept her situation long ago.
And she’d had a happy childhood – her aunt had made sure of that.
‘Ah, mine too.’ Isaac picked up his mug and took a sip.
‘Really?’
Nodding, Isaac continued. ‘So, I’m assuming what you do know about him is from your aunt? Did she meet him?’
‘Yes, and yes. They... I mean, my aunt and my mum spent the summer down here in the bay, and my mum met my dad. My aunt loved this place, and apparently so did my parents. From what she said, they’d planned on moving here but then, of course, my dad passed away and so my mum moved back home.’
Leaning forward in his chair, Isaac placed an elbow on the table before resting his chin in his hand, his eyes trained on her, taking in her every word.
‘All I know is he was in the bay when they met. I don’t know if he lived here or if he was just staying.’
‘But you know he was staying at the cottage?’
‘No.’ Tilly looked down into her mug as she revealed just how tenuous her facts were.
‘I have a photo of them both in the cottage garden. That was what I was doing there, at your dad’s.
I was trying to work out if the picture had been taken inside or outside the garden.
I figured if they’d been standing inside the garden, it might suggest he was living there.
Or at the very least, that he knew the people who were.
I was also hoping to talk to whoever was living there to ask if they’d known him, but from what you say, he doesn’t. ’
‘He wouldn’t, but the farmer may. Is it possible your dad worked on the farm? The cottages are, or were before they became dilapidated, tied to farm jobs, so it’s a possibility.’
Tilly nodded. ‘I did wonder that, and that was my next port of call, going to the farmhouse. I just wasn’t sure how to get there without going across your dad’s land again.’
Isaac chuckled. ‘Well, it’s not technically my dad’s land. It’s owned by the farm, but I don’t blame you.’
‘Sorry, I...’ She spread her hands out on the tabletop, realising how he could easily have misinterpreted her comment.
‘No, I’m sorry my dad chased you away.’ He shook his head. ‘Have you got the photo?’
‘Yes, yes, I do.’ Pushing her chair back, Tilly walked behind the counter and retrieved her handbag before sitting back down again. After pulling out the paper wallet, she slipped out the photo of her parents in the cottage garden and pushed it across the table towards him.
Isaac carefully picked it up, holding it by the corners. ‘They make a lovely couple.’
Tilly nodded. ‘They do, don’t they?’
Looking from the photo to Tilly and back again, Isaac smiled. ‘You’ve got your mum’s hair and your dad’s eyes.’
Automatically touching her face, Tilly grinned. ‘You think?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Isaac met her gaze, their eyes locking.
Reaching out, Tilly went to take the photo back, wanting to show him something, but the moment her skin brushed his, she froze, not wanting to move another muscle, not wanting to break the spell.
She could feel the electricity between them, could feel the connection, and it felt right.
Shaking herself, she cleared her throat and felt his hand shift beneath hers, giving her the photograph.
Holding it between them, she looked down, tearing her eyes from his, and blinked, the photograph coming back into focus.
‘This...this is the cottage. The magnolia tree.’
‘Right.’ He nodded as he dragged his hand across his face. ‘Do you think your aunt took the picture, or do you think it was someone else?’
‘It wasn’t my aunt. Well, she doesn’t remember taking it, anyway.’ She glanced up at him. The moment – whatever it had been – was gone now, and they were back on the case of solving her dad’s mystery.
‘Then there might still be someone local who does remember him. Remember them both even.’
‘Yep.’
‘I have some jobs tomorrow evening, but I’m free during the day, so maybe we could meet on your lunch break and go and speak to the farmer?’ He shifted on his chair.
Tilly grinned. That would be perfect. Not only would it be a relief to have someone help her and would mean she wouldn’t have to speak to the farmer on her own, but he had local knowledge too.
He must know a lot of people. Plus, it meant she could spend some more time with him.
‘I’m actually off tomorrow, so I can meet whenever is best for you. ’
‘Perfect. We can spend the day researching then.’ Isaac’s eyes lit up.
‘Okay, that sounds great.’ Tilly smiled as a fluttering sensation began in her stomach.
She’d spend the whole day with Isaac tomorrow and might even get closer to finding some answers about where she came from.
As she opened her mouth to speak again, the front door to the bakery was thrown open and little Hudson, Wendy’s son, ran in ahead of Ian.
Jumping up, Isaac ran to hold the door open as Ian bumped a pushchair up the short step into the bakery.
‘Evening.’ Ian brought the pushchair to a stop as Elsie joined them, carrying a huge nappy bag over her shoulder.
‘Hello, loves. Sorry about the intrusion.’ She chuckled as she watched Hudson circling the tables, zooming a small metal car over the backs of the chairs and the tabletops.
‘Hi, how’s little Esme?’ Tilly smiled as Hudson stopped in front of her, holding up his car. ‘That’s a very cool car, Hudson.’
‘She’s okay, thanks, love. Diane and Harry have managed to settle her. The poor little love has a nasty cold, though so they’re going to stay home with her instead of her coming to us.’ Elsie turned to Isaac as he closed the door behind them. ‘Thank you, Isaac. Was the till repairable?’
‘Yes, all fixed. Any problems, just give me a shout and I’ll pop back.’ Isaac sank back into the chair he’d just vacated.
‘Wonderful. Thank you for that.’ Elsie lowered the nappy bag onto the table next to them. ‘Aren’t you two going to the quiz tonight?’
‘The quiz?’ Tilly glanced at the clock. She was late. A whole half hour late. ‘I completely forgot about that.’
‘That’s my fault, distracting you.’ Isaac chuckled.
‘You might still catch the end of it if you leave now. Or else the others usually stay for a couple of hours after anyway.’ Elsie held her hands out as Hudson gave her his car. ‘We’ve just been to the park, haven’t we, Huddy? A little late-night treat being as it’s the holidays.’
Hudson nodded as he patted his belly. ‘Hungry now.’
‘You and me both. Why don’t we go upstairs and make pizza?’ She took his hand before glancing back towards Tilly and Isaac. ‘You’re welcome to join us if you’re not going to the pub?’
‘Shall we go and grab a drink?’ Isaac looked at Tilly.
‘Yes, that sounds good.’ Tilly smiled before turning back to Elsie. ‘It’s okay, thanks. We’re going to head to the pub for a bit.’
‘Enjoy yourselves.’ Ian nodded before taking Daisy and Ollie’s baby girl, Bonnie, from the pushchair and heading towards the door behind the counter leading to the flat upstairs.