Chapter 7
Beth woke the following morning with the sun winking through a gap in the curtains and the smell of the sea in the air, and it took a moment to place where she was. The bed was soft and comfortable and with the fresh air from the previous day, had cocooned her into a long and peaceful night’s sleep. For a moment she lay staring at an unfamiliar ceiling until the memories came flooding back. Matthew, a run-down beach hut, a neglected aunt, and with a sigh, she climbed out of bed and threw open the curtains.
The boats in the marina bobbed and swayed like apples in a barrel. Seagulls weaved lazily in a sky that was blue and clear and the tang of the sea and the salty spray took Beth back to the summers she’d spent here as a child.
Life had been so much simpler then, she decided. Why had she been in so much of a hurry to grow up?
Downstairs, Lavinia was busying herself in the small room that led onto the balcony.
‘There’s tea on the table,’ she instructed, ‘and I’ll bring up some bacon and eggs. I want you to eat a good breakfast, you’re far too pale,’ she continued, waving away Beth’s protests. ‘Lizzie would want to see some roses in those cheeks. Sit down and have some toast to keep you going, I’ll be back soon,’ and humming happily she set off in the direction of the kitchen.
Beth walked onto the balcony heading for her favourite corner, her eyes pinned on the hazy blue line where sea met sky, only to trip and have to steady herself by gripping onto the edge of the nearest table.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise anyone else was here.’
Stepping back hastily, she glanced down at the ankles she had kicked and then upwards to meet an easy smile, eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses, head leaning backwards into cupped hands as he stretched out enjoying the same view.
‘My fault. Fantastic view but not a lot of legroom out here.’ He tucked his long legs obligingly under the table which was set for two.
He was lean, tanned and smiling pleasantly, which for some unfathomable reason annoyed her.
He was also sitting in the best spot on the balcony, with uninterrupted views and so close to the sea you could feel it on your skin. Exactly where Beth had planned on sitting and nodding stiffly, she turned in the direction of a smaller table tucked at the back of the terrace where the view was almost as good, if she discounted the back of his head.
‘Please!’ He waved his arm in the direction of the chair opposite. ‘Join me.’
‘You don't mind sharing, do you?’ trilled Lavinia from the doorway, making Beth jump. ‘I've brought more tea and your bacon is cooking. This is Jake. Jake Balfour. Jake this is Beth. Beth Carter. I thought you could sit together this morning, such a lovely day and this is the best seat in the house.’
They were both looking at Beth and reluctantly she slipped into the vacant chair.
‘Hello Beth,’ murmured Jake.
His voice was deep and smooth and there was a tilt to his lips that irked Beth.
‘Jake.’ She muttered, inclining her head.
His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but Beth could tell he was staring at her and she could feel her shoulders tensing as he watched her settling into her seat.
‘So, Beth. What brings you to Welby-on-the-Sea? And, more importantly, to Welcome? It’s usually only seasoned visitors that know about the magnificent Lavinia and her wonderful guest house.’
Putting a small jug of milk on the table, Lavinia huffed, giving his arm a playful slap. ‘Oh, get away with you, Jake!’ she said admonishingly, her eyes unable to hide her pleasure. ‘There are much fancier places in town.’
‘But none better,’ he said, sending her a brilliant smile that caused Lavinia to blush and Beth to scowl.
If she had her own sunglasses to hide behind, she thought, she would be free to execute a perfect eye roll. Instead, she offered a strained smile of agreement. Jake Balfour, she decided, was a little too full of himself.
‘Oh, Beth has been here before,’ Lavinia told him, collecting an empty toast rack. ‘She’s Lizzie’s niece,’ and off she bustled, humming happily on her way to the kitchen.
‘Ah,’ he murmured, staring even harder from behind the reflective lenses. ‘You’re Lizzie’s missing niece.’
‘Missing?’ Beth couldn't help the rather sharp tone. ‘What do you mean, missing?’
‘Oft spoken of, rarely seen,’ answered Jake with a small shrug. ‘Everybody who knew Lizzie knew about her niece, she talked about you all the time. But folk such as myself, relative newcomers to Welby-on-the-Sea, have never actually seen you.’
His tone was polite, but the implication stung all the same.
‘I used to spend every summer with Aunt Lizzie when I was younger,’ said Beth defensively. ‘But I have a full-time job now and a relationship and…’And Matthew had always refused to contemplate Welby as a holiday destination. ‘It became hard to visit so often,’ she finished lamely.
‘Or at all,’ he said lightly. ‘I’ve lived here for over 10 years.’
‘It was unavoidable!’ snapped Beth, her cheeks flushing. He seemed to be suggesting she had neglected her beloved aunt. Which hurt because Beth had decided much the same thing herself only the previous evening as she’d gazed at the derelict beach hut. ‘Like I said, I have a job. And a…’ She paused. Maybe she wouldn’t stress the relationship again. Technically, it was now an ex-relationship. ‘I have a busy life,’ she repeated. ‘I couldn’t come as often…any more. But Aunt Lizzie and I still spoke. Quite often actually.’
He didn’t answer and she glared at him. ‘We spoke a great deal. Whether I was here or not,’ she persevered. ‘All the time. And we exchanged letters.’
Silence hung over the balcony for a moment before he finally removed his sunglasses. Untidy hair, so dark it was almost black, fell onto his forehead and shifted slightly in the breeze and his eyes, which were a rather startling shade of sea green, met hers with interest.
‘It wasn’t a criticism,’ he said unconvincingly, his head tipping to one side as he examined her strained features. ‘Just a comment.’
Tempted to tell him where he could put his comments, Beth nodded curtly and then stared out to sea, ignoring the good-looking face that was still watching her.
‘Have I put my foot in it?’ he asked, a small smile twitching at his lips. ‘Put my size ten in a great big sore point?’
‘Not at all,’ answered Beth, concentrating on pouring a cup of tea and refusing to meet his gaze. ‘No sore point.’
‘I didn’t mean to sound as though I was judging you.’
The tea made, the milk stirred in, Beth had no option but to put down the spoon and turn in his direction. ‘I didn’t think you were,’ she reiterated with a shrug, just in case he hadn’t been paying attention. Or thought that she cared. ‘I was simply explaining why I didn't visit my aunt as much as I once had.’
And despite what he may say to the contrary, there was definitely a judgemental look in those green eyes.
‘Of course,’ he murmured, his lips still twitching. ‘Because of your – busy life. I understand.’
To Beth’s relief, he slipped the sunglasses back over his eyes. She’d decided she preferred his gaze shrouded in secrecy. She had also decided that his presence was an irritant she could do without and was just contemplating declaring herself full after a cup of tea, when Lavinia appeared in the doorway with two plates brimming with bacon, sausages, eggs, tomatoes and beans
Lavinia placed one of the heaving plates in front of Beth and waggled her finger in the air.
‘And I want you to eat it all, Beth Carter. Starving yourself won't bring that young man back. You need some colour back in your face before you see him again,’ and giving Jake a bright smile, she disappeared.
‘Oh dear. Man trouble?’ asked Jake, rubbing his hands in glee at the spread before him.
‘No!’ snapped Beth.
Jake folded over a slice of bread and butter, poised to dip into his egg yolk. ‘No?’
‘No.’ Beth gulped at the bare-faced lie. ‘Well. Sort of.’
‘Oh dear. What happened?’
Goodness, did this man not understand the etiquette of polite conversation with a stranger? It certainly shouldn’t involve accusations about neglecting one’s family and questions about broken-down relationships.
‘It’s personal,’ she muttered, looking down at her plate of food. Actually, it did look very appetising and there was something about the sea air that had stirred her appetite.
‘Stop asking about it, you mean?’ asked Jake cheerfully, tucking in with a contented sigh. ‘Sorry, I don’t seem to be doing too well on the conversation front this morning.’
Beth agreed, nibbling daintily on the edge of a rasher of bacon and presenting a rather frosty profile for him to converse with.
‘I’ve always had a tendency to ask too many questions,’ he mumbled in between mouthfuls of bacon and egg. ‘Got me into all sorts of trouble over the years.’
And yet here he was, still embarking on an inappropriate conversation.
‘I can see you don't want to talk about it,’ he continued, mopping up a mouthful of beans with more bread and butter. ‘I suppose if it’s just happened, you’re still feeling a bit raw. Is that why you’re in Welby, to get away from … what’s his name?’
Her appetite disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
‘Matthew,’ she muttered unwillingly. ‘And you’re right, I don't want to…’
‘So, you’re here taking a break from Matthew? Welby-on-the-Sea isn't the sort of place many people would think of. But I suppose you know it better than most. And there are certainly worse places for getting over a breakup.’
Good grief, what would it take to get him off the subject, wondered Beth desperately, putting down her fork.
His breakfast was finished, his plate empty and almost licked clean, and he was gazing at the sausage still intact on Beth’s plate with more than a tinge of envy. He picked up the last piece of toast left in the rack and attacked it with enthusiasm.
‘What happened?’ he asked curiously. ‘Did…?’
‘Actually, I'm here for an entirely different reason,’ blurted Beth. She had decided only that morning, as she had looked out across the sweeping bay and the white-topped waves, that the best thing she could do was stop thinking about Matthew. If only this irritating man would let her do just that. ‘Aunt Lizzie left me her beach hut and I popped down to inspect it.’
It sounded sensible. Like Beth had found out about the hut and carefully arranged a visit to inspect her inheritance, rather than jumping on the first train she could board so she could hide in Welby after attacking her errant boyfriend in the office.
‘The beach hut? Lizzie left it to you, did she?’
‘She did.’
‘Interesting. So that’s why she was hanging onto it, despite everything.’
Deciding that she would have to face Lavinia’s wrath, Beth pushed her plate away.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s no secret that Lizzie’s hut is in a state. Practically falling down. And it’s also no secret that she could have sold it several times over. It may be a wreck but there’s plenty of folk want one of those huts. One of the rich crowd from Craggy Heights would have snatched it from Lizzie at any price, just so they could join the club.’
‘Club? What club?’ asked Beth fascinated despite herself.
‘The Beach Hut Club of course.’
Beth gazed at him in astonishment.
‘The crowd from the Heights all want to have a hut on the beach,’ he explained patiently. ‘They try to outdo each other with the sheer volume of money they throw at them. And there’s more than one that would have bought Lizzie’s.’
That would explain the rather resplendent décor Beth had found on her visit. Turrets and porticoed railings had not been the standard in years gone by.
‘Lizzie wasn’t able to do much this last year,’ he continued, a definite note of criticism now drifting through the air as he reluctantly put down his knife and fork, not finding anything left on the table he could eat. ‘She could have done without trying to keep up to that old hut and just taking it easy.’
Beth’s mind assaulted her with distressing images of a terminally ill Aunt Lizzie, struggling with the beach hut and its tied-on roof and falling down walls and her cheeks filled with colour.
‘I didn’t ask her to leave me the hut,’ she said defensively. ‘I would have preferred her to sell it if that was best for her.’
Wiping his lips on a serviette, Jake gave her a long look.
‘But she didn’t. She still visited it every single day, trying to keep it from disappearing into the sea. I did wonder why she didn’t just let it go.’
The image he was conjuring in Beth’s head was not a happy one.
‘I would have come to visit her if I’d known she needed help,’ she said in a shaky voice, not sure why she was letting a total stranger creep beneath her skin so easily.
There was no tilt to his lips now as he gazed at her over the small table. Just a faint air of disapproval and a whole bucketful of judgment, whatever he might say to the contrary.
‘So, what are you going to do?’ he asked, stretching his feet out and tilting back in his chair to let the sun warm his face.
‘Do?’ asked Beth who was struggling to retain her composure whilst a vision of Aunt Lizzie struggling through her final days tormented her. The emotions of the last 48 hours were stacking up relentlessly now. Throwing a rude, judgmental stranger into the mix meant there was the very real possibility of a sob breaking free at any moment and she blinked rapidly to disperse the tears she could feel gathering.
‘I can’t imagine you want a derelict old hut. Are you going to sell it?’
Beth swallowed hard. She should sell Number 4. That would be the sensible thing to do, say goodbye to Aunt Lizzie and Welby-on-the-Sea and return to Bristol to plan a new life without Matthew. She didn’t need to add a falling down beach hut to the almost never-ending list of problems that were jostling for space in her overcrowded head. She slid her shaking hands beneath the table.
‘I don’t know. I suppose I will…’
‘I thought so. What a shame. If only Lizzie had realised you didn’t want it.’
Beth gasped. The tears vanished and she was suddenly filled with so much rage she could feel her hands trembling. Maybe she would have to consider anger management or sleeping with lavender sprinkled on her pillow she thought, because for someone who was normally so easygoing, she did seem to be feeling a lot of rage recently. She had a brief memory of the expression on Matthew’s face as the water had hit his head, flowing down his face. And the very definite feeling of satisfaction it had brought her, however fleeting.
She cast an eye towards the teapot, working hard to resist the urge to tip its contents over Jake Balfour, but only after ripping off the sunglasses so she could see the expression in those green eyes as she did so.
‘You know nothing about me or Aunt Lizzie,’ she said furiously, knocking over her empty cup as she pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘And quite frankly what I do with the hut is none of your business, but if you must know, I have absolutely no intention of selling it!’ and without looking back, she stalked off the terrace, a pair of sunglasses watching her departure with interest.