Chapter 10
Half an hour later, Beth was hard at work trying to convince herself that she could succeed with her new challenge. She was sitting on the balcony with nothing but the sea to look at. She could hear the seagulls calling and children laughing on the beach below, whilst a breeze ruffled through her hair, cooling her neck. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and decided that nothing was insurmountable.
She would spend a little time taking note of what was needed to restore Number 4 so the council deemed it safe. It didn’t need turrets or mahogany decking It certainly didn’t need gilt-tipped railings or a chandelier. The interior could be upgraded later. All it needed for now was some tender loving care. And a new roof. Some windows. Possibly four new walls, And definitely some new floorboards.
She took a quick sip of her lemonade. Okay, there was a lot to do, and she wriggled her shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension. The light was just beginning to fade as the sun headed towards the horizon and the air was pleasantly cool, which was good because Beth was feeling positively feverish at the thought of the work ahead of her. Was it really only the previous day she had arrived in Welby and decided that she would sell Number 4? So much seemed to have happened since.
At least it had stopped her thinking about Matthew quite so much, she realised with surprise. While her heart still ached and tears were never far away, she had found her thoughts travelling in his direction less and less as the day, and her problems, progressed. And at least here on the balcony, she could enjoy the tranquillity of Welby. She would listen to the waves, take some deep calming breaths and simply sit here for a while.
‘Hello!’
The peace came to a crashing halt and her eyes flew open to see a pair of sunglasses staring down at her.
‘Hello,’ Beth offered grudgingly, moving her legs so Jake could squeeze by and join her at the table. She really needed to get some sunglasses, she decided. The reflective sort like he wore. The sort that would hide her eyes and make her look as inscrutable and difficult to read as he was.
‘Ah, Lavinia’s lemonade. It’s delicious, don’t you think?’
Taking a glass, he filled it to the brim and gulped it down in one go.
‘Thirsty?’ asked Beth caustically.
‘Very.’
He was staring at her from behind his protective glasses.
‘Good day?’ he asked cheerfully.
‘It was okay,’ she mumbled.
Actually, it had been highly stressful, exhausting and ultimately, quite unnerving. And it had all started with their encounter at breakfast so it was really his fault, and she couldn’t help directing an angry side-eye his way.
‘Have you enjoyed being back in Welby? Has it helped with the recovery?’ he asked.
Beth stared at him blankly. ‘The what?’
‘You know. The man trouble.’
Beth slammed her glass onto the table. Maybe she would have to find somewhere else to stay after all, far away from this obnoxious man with his endless questions and lack of subtlety.
‘I don’t have any man trouble,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘None whatsoever.’
‘Oh? I thought you said you’d just broken up with – what was his name again, Martin?’
‘Matthew,’ snapped Beth. ‘And I didn’t say I was here because of him.’ She stopped, or had she? This morning seemed so long ago and so much had happened since. ‘I’m here because of Aunt Lizzie’s hut.’
‘Oh yes. The hut. The one you’re not going to sell.’
‘That’s right!’
He smiled and Beth sat on her hands to prevent herself from ripping off his glasses and slapping his face. His smirk may show off a lot of rather impressive cheekbones and the faint dimple in his chin, but it irritated Beth beyond belief.
He topped up his glass, leaving nothing in the jug and Beth was tempted to finish her own drink so she could look pointedly at the emptiness he had left.
‘So, what happened?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ hoping she had managed to inject a suitable amount of ice into her voice, Beth glared at him across the empty lemonade jug.
‘Between you and Martin. What happened?’
‘It’s Matthew! And it’s none of your business.’
‘Sorry,’ he shrugged, clearly unmoved by her outburst. ‘Just interested.’
He stretched out his legs, sighing happily as he lifted his face to the fading sun and Beth hoped that was an end to his inquisition.
‘Staying long?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side as though genuinely interested in the answer.
‘Depends,’ grunted Beth, keeping her eyes on the view in the hope it would encourage silence.
‘Oh? Interesting. Depending on…?’
With an exaggerated sigh, Beth turned to meet his gaze, or rather the sunglasses.
‘What?’ she asked in irritation.
‘What does it depend on?’ he asked curiously. ‘Martin?’
‘Matthew! And no, it has nothing to do with him.’
‘Right. Sorry, I get the feeling you don’t want to talk about him and here I am asking nonstop questions.’ His face was apologetic, except for the tiniest of tilts to the edge of his mouth that confirmed Beth’s suspicions that he wasn’t sorry in the slightest.
He slipped his glasses down his nose and smiled at her. His ridiculous green eyes made him look like some kind of irritating merman and if they hadn’t been so captivating, Beth would have looked away instantly. As it was, she felt she stared at them for a little too long, her cheeks filling with colour as she eventually turned away.
‘I’m sorry,’ he offered, his tone smooth. ‘No more questions about Martin. Promise.’
She bit her tongue, staring out to sea and wishing she was out in the bay, bobbing about in a boat far away from Jake Balfour.
Silence reigned and the tension began to seep out of her shoulders. It was so peaceful when he stopped talking. Hopefully, he would be gone tomorrow morning and Beth could enjoy her breakfast and the view to herself.
‘So,’ he began, and Beth groaned. ‘If your visit doesn’t depend on your man trouble, sorry, lack of man trouble, why don’t you know how long you’ll be staying?
Closing her eyes, Beth wondered if he had a problem. An actual problem, the kind that had been diagnosed. An inability to stop asking strangers personal questions.
‘If you must know,’ she ground out, wishing she wasn’t facing the sun and having to squint as she spoke to him. ‘I have decided to stay in Welby for a couple of weeks to renovate Aunt Lizzie’s beach hut.’
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, which Beth found quite refreshing. Then a snort of laughter erupted.
‘ You’re going to renovate it?’
‘Yes. I am going to renovate it.’
Amusement was written all over his face. ‘I see. And have you renovated anything before?’
Oh, how Beth wanted to tell him she was an expert renovator. That she had been renovating all her adult life and could renovate in her sleep if needed.
‘Not exactly.’
‘I see. And how exactly is not exactly? Don’t tell me, you’ve watched a program about renovating houses and you think you can do the same?’
She really just wanted to punch him. Punch him hard and then throw those cursed glasses over the balcony.
‘No!’ which was a lie. ‘I’ve had some hands-on experience, actually.’
If wallpapering the living room counted, and Beth had decided it most certainly did.
The grin that spread across his face was both mocking and superior. ‘Well let’s hope you know a lot about woodwork because that hut needs more than a lick of paint.’
Perhaps she would throw him over the balcony as well as his glasses.
‘I’ll manage,’ she said stiffly. ‘It’s not as difficult as people think.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Wow. And here’s me, a builder, thinking it was a fairly major job.’
Beth wondered if the colour that was flooding her cheeks could be passed off as sunburn.
‘You’re a builder?’
‘I am.’
If she had any thumbnail left to bite, she would be nibbling on it right now. Instead, she swallowed hard.
‘Oh,’ she said in a wobbly voice. ‘Interesting.’
‘Isn’t it.’
How she hated that twist to his lips, the confident air as he watched her discomfort from across the table. In fact, she may just hate him.
‘Then what are you doing staying at Lavinia’s B&B?’ she challenged. ‘Shouldn’t you be busy working on your own house?’
Her tone was childish, making her blush even more, but there was something about the man sitting on the balcony that was bringing out the very worst in Beth Carter’s normally amenable and pleasant nature.
‘That’s what I’m doing,’ he answered cheerfully. ‘Just needed somewhere to stay for a couple of weeks.’
‘A couple of weeks?’
Her heart really couldn’t sink any lower. He was going to be here for her entire stay. Not only would she have to fight him for the lemonade, she would have to put up with that mocking smile across the breakfast table every morning. A good argument for intermittent fasting, she decided.
‘That’s right. A week or so. Like you. Just imagine, we’ll be able to share building stories every evening. Won’t that be fun,’ and with a final wicked smile, he turned away and settled back in his chair to gaze out to sea, the picture of contentment.