Chapter eleven
With the scraper in his hand, Marcus dug it into the decades-old wallpaper. He had to do something to keep his mind off what happened in the parlour with Rowan, and right now, this was all he could think of.
The fact that it was only ten to five in the morning was of no concern.
He’d barely slept a wink all night anyway.
The shrill morning calls from the birds in the garden and the golden light seeping in through the cracks in the curtain twenty minutes earlier, had told him the morning was already underway and had well and truly started.
The paper was thick, but the scraper tore through it easily—too easily—at this rate he’d have the entire sitting room finished before seven. He stopped momentarily, the scraper half buried, as he considered his plan.
His plan was to take the morning off. Once again, he had a fully booked day, and all appointments were for dogs getting ready to enter the competition, which was just days away—but he just couldn't face it.
His fingers raked through his hair then dragged down his face.
But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let his clients down and not turn up.
He’d worked so hard building up his business, dragging clients from the city to his new premises, and then doubling his client base when he’d become established in Seagull Bay.
Throwing his head back, he let out a loud sigh.
Once again, the chaotic scene from last night played out in his mind, and the words he’d bent this way and that, trying to make sense of, echoed in his ears.
‘I’m not someone you should make room for.’
Why?
Why did Rowan say that?
Did he think he was too broken to be fixed?
But what if Marcus didn’t want to fix him... What if he just wanted to understand him?
Marcus continued scraping at the old wallpaper.
It was no good. He was going in circles.
He picked up his mobile phone, and thumbed the screen until he found his music app, then tapped onto his favourite playlist. Right now he didn’t need to think—didn’t want to think.
He’d spend the next two hours lost in decorating labour, then he’d take a cold shower, and face the day.
THE SPRING HE’D HAD in his step yesterday had bounced away, now his feet felt heavy and flat as he made his way down the lane. Looking out at the shimmering horizon, not even the dark blue velvety bejewelled ocean, with its golden backdrop, could pull a smile onto Marcus’s lips.
As Marcus passed a path leading up to the cliff, there was a warm salty breeze carrying the fragrance of wildflowers.
He turned his head and almost changed directions.
A morning gazing out at the sea, watching passing boats and gulls hovering mid-air seemed so much more appealing than another day up to his eyeballs in appointments, with the added burden of finishing the last planning for the dog competition hanging over his head.
Ben was standing next to his cart, laden with at least five different types of fish. The strong fresh smell of them far too pungent for Marcus’s empty stomach.
Ben raised his hand in greeting as Marcus passed by. ‘Morning, Marcus. I had an idea for one of the prizes for your competition. Why don’t I offer a fish prize.’
Marcus couldn’t help the chuckle that came up his throat. He might have been feeling down, but the thought of handing a wet kipper as a prize couldn’t keep his spirits low any longer. It was just the tonic he needed to lift his mood.
He raised a hand. ‘Good morning, Ben. Thanks for the offer, mate, but we have all the prizes covered now.’ They weren’t, but he didn’t have the heart to snub Ben’s offer because it was simply—odd.
‘Righto, no worries. Glad you’ve got it sorted.’
The smile remained on Marcus’s face as he opened the door to the parlour.
The usual smells greeted him. Clean doggy smell, that some would describe as wet dog, but Marcus simply couldn't agree. Coconut detangler, clean towels—everything that made up the unique smell of his dog grooming parlour.
Marcus lifted his chin. Whatever the day would bring, he’d tackle it head-on, to his best ability.
THE MORNING STARTED well, but quickly headed south, when Marcus’s second appointment with two Yorkshire Terrier sisters, Sparkle and Twinkle, who’s owner insisted they be groomed together, turned into a nightmare appointment.
‘They’re normally good as gold when I bathe them together at home,’ insisted a very animated owner, as she stood close to the bath, doing her best to stop the sisters from trying to jump out.
Marcus was already exhausted, after no sleep and no breakfast, his body running on nothing. He could feel his normally endless patience starting to thin.
‘We’ll just have to bathe them one at a time.’
‘No, no, they’ll be all right in a moment when they settle down.’ The owner’s arms were waving up and down, making the sisters more agitated, not calmer.
Marcus heard the tinkle of the doorbell, but was so distracted, he didn’t have the capacity to look at who had just entered.
Large forearms suddenly loomed forward, unclipping one of the sisters, and a deep calm voice told the owner exactly what was about to happen.
‘You need to sit down and let us do our job. Your presence is only exacerbating the situation. Your pets are clearly agitated by each other and need their own space. I will bathe this one and Marcus will bathe the other.’
Marcus couldn’t meet Rowan’s eyes. Embarrassment consumed him. Not because of the fuss the little terriers were making, but because of last night.
Sparkle and Twinkle instantly started yapping as soon as they were parted. ‘Oh erm, if you insist... They do seem calmer now,’ the owner said.
‘Yes, I do insist.’ Rowan and Marcus watched the terrier’s owner retreat back to the waiting area.
Marcus could feel Rowan’s eyes burning into his profile. Rowan lowered his voice. ‘This is strictly professional. I’m here to help out when I can until Georgina comes back.’
The shower head turned on in Georgina’s bath station, but Marcus still couldn’t bring himself to look that way.
He’d finished washing his terrier, and quickly dried her with a towel, before grabbing the dryer.
The dryer hummed between them, and the terriers’ yapping covered the worst of their lowered voices.
Matching Rowan’s low tone, he replied tersely. ‘I didn’t ask for your help.’ He didn’t need Rowan to answer to know his reply had not been well received, the thick atmosphere which was making it hard to breathe, answered for him.
His chest suddenly felt tight, and he couldn’t stop himself from spinning to face Rowan, but he wished he hadn’t.
The dark look that met him made him wither—made his legs feel boneless.
All his emotions came bubbling to the surface.
‘Y-you can’t keep stepping close and then backing up, making me think I’m imagining what’s happening between us. ’
Rowan’s heavy lids did little to conceal the storm of emotions that raged in his dark eyes. ‘You think every wounded thing can be fixed with kindness... But it can’t.’ He continued to bathe the terrier, none of his inner turmoil affecting how he washed the small dog.
Marcus’s fists balled at his sides. ‘You think blaming yourself forever is the same as loyalty. Well I have news for you, it isn’t!’
Rowan’s eyes closed and his nostrils flared. When he spoke, Marcus barely heard him. ‘I’ll finish what I’m doing, and then I’ll go. This clearly isn’t going to work.’
Marcus felt as though a dagger had sunk into his chest. He nodded and turned away, trying his best to continue drying the other sister, as his hands trembled.
As they stood just feet away from each other, it might as well have been a mile. Time seemed to stop moving, seconds stretching into minutes, minutes feeling like hours, before Rowan finally finished drying the terrier he’d been tending to.
Calmly, he walked the dog back to its owner, and without a word, or a glance in Marcus’s direction, he left the salon.
Marcus’s stomach pinched.
I’m fine. It’s all going to be okay. He told himself, feeling like it was the furthest thing from the truth.
It took all his effort to draw a smile, hand over the other sister to her owner, and make another appointment with the terrier’s owner.
When they had left, Marcus looked down at the appointment book. What he’d written was all wrong. He couldn’t even get that right.
Feeling overwhelmed, he headed for the sanctuary of the tearoom.
Holding onto the counter, he finally let his barrier down. His eyes welling, and his bottom lip trembling.
The door to the tearoom opened and for a moment Marcus let hope get the better of him. He spun around, only to see Christine entering.
‘Oh dear, what’s the matter, love?’
‘It’s just... It’s just all too much, Christine.’
‘You don’t have to be sparkling every minute, Marcus.’
‘I’m just wondering if I’ve taken on too much.’
‘Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you, love. You know I’m here if you need to talk, and we’re all here to help with the dog competition... The residents of the bay help each other out. You don’t have to do this alone.’
Marcus swallowed his pride. ‘I know. I’m grateful.’ He paused, considering what he was about to say. ‘Yes, I think I need more help, Christine.’
‘Then I’ll rally the troops and see what I can do.’ She held Marcus’s hand. ‘Come and sit down for five minutes in the salon and tell me all about it. I’ve shut shop for lunch, so no one will disturb us.’ Marcus nodded, and let himself be led by Christine.
She sat him in a client chair and then settled in a chair opposite him. Christine picked up a box of tissues and offered them to Marcus. He pulled two free. ‘Thank you.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘I’m tired, so I probably read the situation all wrong, but yesterday evening, Rowan and I sort of bashed heads. He came back just now to help me in the parlour, but I was embarrassed and hurt by what he’d said the night before, and it’s gone from bad to worse.’
Christine’s brow pulled together puzzled. ‘Wh-what happened between you two?’
‘To cut a long story short, Atlas had a break through in the parlour, then you heard the commotion and came through. That’s when that breakthrough became a setback.
Rowan was too harsh blaming himself yet again, and I tried to make him see he’d done nothing wrong, but everything right.
’ Marcus paused and inhaled a juddery breath.
‘Anyway, we shared a brief tender moment, and I swear we were about to kiss, but... then he said something that cut me to the quick. Something I’m still trying to wrap my head around. ’
‘I’m so sorry, love, but from what you’ve told me, that doesn’t sound like a man who feels nothing. It sounds like a man fighting himself because he feels too much. Maybe he isn’t stepping back because he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s stepping back because he does.’
Marcus chewed his bottom lip as he absorbed Christine’s words. Dare he hope she was right?
‘It’s not just that, Christine. I’m tired. I’ve tried to do it all. Tried to prove to myself that I didn’t need help... but I’m drowning.’
Christine straightened, and grabbed for her handbag, withdrawing her mobile phone. ‘Right. I may not be able to resolve what’s going on between you and Rowan, but one thing’s for certain, I can help you with the competition.’
What are you doing?’
‘I’m texting everyone.’ Christine looked up from her phone with a gleam in her eye.
Tammy can handle refreshments and the cake list. Oliver can help with the pub admin, and Pippa can simply confirm the categories from last year from her sofa.
Jack can confirm tides and access. Tom can help with the beach setup.
Old Po can sort rope, pegs, signs and anything else practical from the hardware shop that you haven’t got yet.
I’ll help with posters and volunteer lists, and Veronica can spread updated information to tourists. .. Simple.’
Marcus felt as if a ton of weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
He wasn’t failing.
He was accepting help.
And maybe that was what belonging really meant—not proving he could carry everything alone, but trusting other people enough to let them carry some of it with him.