Chapter 2
Pull yourself together. Nell repeated the mantra under her breath as she strode into the kitchen and snapped the radio on.
Three large glasses of wine – at least one too many – alongside the sun and heat of the day had knocked her out of kilter.
Getting ready for work tomorrow should be her priority, instead of floating around the house aimlessly.
That meant ironing a shirt and making lunch to take with her.
She peered at the contents of her fridge.
Smoked salmon left over from yesterday, a chunk of mature cheddar, two rashers of bacon.
Toss a salad together with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and radish she’d grown in the garden and add the salmon. That’d be enough.
Her mind drifted back to the unexpectedly sociable evening as she sliced the juicy tomatoes.
She couldn’t fathom how Angie did her job.
Strangers traipsing through her home all the time, no privacy, no proper down time.
It’d drive Nell mad, but Angie was a social butterfly, as gregarious and extroverted as Nell was private and introverted.
Meeting Angie’s guests was something that happened from time to time, especially during the summer months.
Some were interesting, others less so. All were ships passing in the night, and it was an easy way of socialising occasionally without venturing away from her comfort zone.
Normally, she didn’t give any of them a second thought.
But Mattie was one of the more interesting “ships,” it had to be said.
She grinned at the memory of Mattie’s startled look when she’d caught sight of the gaping secateurs.
She’d bordered on goggle-eyed Scooby-Doo style.
Before joining them for drinks, Mattie had changed into skimpier shorts and a sleeveless top with a lower neckline than the sporty T-shirt she’d been wearing on arrival.
They lent a more feminine and softer air to her.
There was something familiar about her face.
Perhaps they’d crossed paths in a work capacity?
No, she’d remember. A stranger, then, one with an easy-going manner, charming and confident.
And that voice! It was vaguely familiar. Rich, smooth, beguiling.
The knife slipped and Nell swore as the tomato she’d been slicing slithered out of her grasp.
Focus. That, or there’d be sliced finger salad for lunch.
Staffing levels were already depleted, and she didn’t need to be adding to it.
There was so much to do this week. Ideally, she’d delegate the monthly community meeting to George, but he’d been signed off-duty for seven days with concussion thanks to a cricket mishap.
He was supposed to hit the ball, not the other way around!
Fingers crossed it’d be quiet but, in the midst of the school summer holidays and at the height of the tourist season, she doubted it.
Just the sheer weight of extra people added to her workload and tourists tended to let their guards down, becoming more carefree and careless.
That said, the number of visitors was nowhere near as high as the heydays of the 1970s and 80s, according to Angie.
Mattie might face a rude awakening when her rose-tinted childhood memories collided with today’s reality.
And the chances of her finding that guest house she was attempting to hunt down?
About as minimal as Nell’s crime prevention budget being increased.
At least there’d been no chatting about jobs, which had suited her just fine.
Revealing she was a police inspector tended to make some people twitchy.
Tomatoes sliced without further mishap, she ripped large leaves off the lettuce’s stem and carried them over to the sink.
She flicked the cold tap on and washed the soil off the lettuce.
Her gaze drifted to the view through the kitchen window to her garden, decadently rich with ripening tomatoes, raspberries, runner beans, courgettes, and blackcurrants.
It was a labour of love and easy to dedicate the hours needed when there was just you.
When was the last childhood holiday she’d had with the whole family?
She thought back and growled. That hideous week in a cramped cottage somewhere unpronounceable on the Pembrokeshire coast. It’d rained incessantly and they’d been bored senseless.
Her father had let her three brothers go to the travelling funfair in the closest town but not her or Caroline.
That still rankled, despite it happening more than thirty years ago.
Not much had changed. Her brothers were still the apple of his eye.
Caroline was more forgiving of him, blaming their father’s misogynistic attitude on his generation’s upbringing.
Nell disagreed, but there was no point in calling him out on it.
At eighty-three, he wasn’t going to change, and she wasn’t one to rock the boat.
Nell dried the lettuce leaves and chopped them. She peeled carrots in long, even strips, loving their sharp and fresh aroma. Chunks of cucumber would work, too. She gripped the knife but her wandering thoughts stalled her.
Mattie checked me out.
Her eyes had travelled from her face to her feet and back again, lingering in certain places.
What a thrill! Not that she’d let on. She’d slid her poker face into place, the austere one that convinced people she was cold or unapproachable.
Safely ensconced behind the mask, she’d surreptitiously observed Mattie in return.
Tomboyish but still distinctly feminine because of her carved cheekbones, slim hips, and high breasts.
She was demonstrative as she spoke, hands flying around as she emphasised her point.
The skin on her palms looked soft and smooth, no calluses or rough skin caused by digging over the vegetable patch the way her own were.
How would they feel brushing against her skin? Perhaps smoothing in sun lotion?
That’s enough!
Nell glared at the pile of chopped salad and vegetables.
She’d prepped enough for an army. There were at least three hearty portions.
So be it. Ronnie would enjoy some. She’d pop next door and share it with him.
No radish though, because it gave him heartburn.
Normally, his vegetable patches would’ve been burgeoning, but they were barren this year.
He’d been too consumed by grief following the death of his wife of thirty-seven years to toll in the garden.
Maybe he’d like blackcurrants and raspberries too.
Nell had plenty to spare, and sharing the excess produce was something all the neighbours enjoyed doing.
Armed with a plastic box, she threaded her way through the fruit vines.
Plump raspberries still held the heat of the day, and some of the blackcurrants were already past their best. Jam-making was in her not-too-distant future.
Angie was always willing to take jars of it for her guests, and they’d indulge in their annual game of Nell refusing to accept payment, and Angie finally giving in and saying that meant Nell had to come over for dinner whenever she wanted to.
It was win-win. Nell glanced up at Cove House.
Which room was Mattie’s? One on the upper floor presumably, seeing as Angie designated the ground and middle floors as accessible and family rooms. The balcony door of the top floor room at the back of the house was ajar. Was Mattie—
No! She had no business wondering about her. What she needed to be focusing on was her own life, keeping it calm and steady and safe.
She turned her back on Cove House and methodically harvested the rest of the ripe fruit.
Back in the kitchen, she swept the chopped salad into three plastic boxes, snapped the lids on, and slid them onto the middle shelf of the fridge.
The cool air fanned her overheated cheeks until she closed the fridge with more force than was necessary.
A cold shower. She’d have that first, then pop round to Ronnie’s.
Afterwards, she’d spend the rest of the evening doing admin as part of her volunteer charity role.
She would’ve loved to be able to fill the befriender or counsellor vacancies, but her police job meant she could only do a hands-off role.
So instead, she applied her skills to building corporate partnerships, networking, and fundraising events.
That included everything from an auction to a quiz night, and a raffle to a company sporting event such as a charity bike ride.
Yes, that’s where she’d focus: holding people at arm’s length and keeping everything on a professional level. It was safer. There was less danger of being hurt or having her trust broken again.