Chapter 18 #2
Cottage number five had been transformed into ‘Robin’, in honour of my favourite breed of bird, and reminded me of crisp, smoky autumn evenings, with its array of claret chairs, beige carpets and rose-gold touches. A middle-aged gay couple from France were staying in this one at the moment.
I’d named the last cottage ‘Heron’ and had asked Joe and the boys to decorate it in ice-blue and silvery-grey, to honour the bird’s plumage.
I’d hung one of my chalk seascapes above the stone fireplace, the sky-blues echoing the powdery hues of the walls.
This too had guests staying in it – an older couple from Glasgow and their twin granddaughters aged just four.
I’d made sure each cottage also contained a price list for Katie’s ceramics and my artwork, should guests wish to purchase any of the items on display.
All six cottages shared a spectacular view of rainbow-coloured boats and a stretch of honey sand. The finishing touches were the ceramic nameplates Katie had made for each cottage, which I had painted in glossy, bright colours, with an image of the bird drawn in the bottom left corner.
‘Hey, you. Sorry I’m a bit late.’
Katie was dressed in a flowing red maxi skirt, which she’d matched with a simple short-sleeved black silk top. Her brown curls were pulled away from her creamy complexion by a vermilion headband. She reddened. ‘Me and your brother have decided to try for a baby.’
‘Oh, wow! I mean, a little too much info, but I’d love to be an auntie.’
She blushed deeper.
‘Is that why you’re late? No, on second thoughts, don’t answer that.’
She laughed and didn’t deny it.
‘Anyway, you look lovely.’ I grinned, giving an appreciative nod to her snazzy ankle boots.
‘Like a potter who means business?’
‘Exactly that.’
Katie marvelled at the cottages and promised she’d take the hundreds of photographs so that we could upload them and send them to Mum and Dad.
Even the office had benefited from a fresh coat of vanilla paint.
I’d dotted some plants around and bought plain lime-green cushions for the black chairs.
I’d also mentioned to Katie about using the ledge space in the window for a random selection of some of our art.
It was now occupied by a couple of my A5-sized textile pictures of the beach and the castle, and a fruit bowl and sugar bowl that Katie had created, in contrasting shades of buttercup and royal blue.
A journalist from the local paper was expected later on this morning to cover our opening and give us a bit of free publicity, so we hovered around, drinking in all our efforts.
Then we realised that time was racing past, so we fetched the trestle table we’d borrowed from one of my mum’s charity contacts and laid it with a yellow-and-blue gingham tablecloth to match the White Willow Cottages banner.
We began snatching up copies of the colour brochure, as well as lots of cups and saucers that we’d set aside in the store cupboard.
‘Looking good, sis!’
I glanced up from the table to see the tall, solid figure of my big brother striding towards us.
Caleb had cast off his usual garb of scruffy combats and rock T-shirts, in favour of a light-grey shirt, dark trousers and a dark silk tie.
He even appeared to have had a haircut, although it was often difficult to tell, seeing as he always wore his red locks clipped close to his head.
‘Sorry, what have you done with my brother?’ I asked, straight-faced.
He pretended to laugh. ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, don’t you know?’
I peeked past him, trying not to make it obvious that I was checking to see who else might be arriving. Who was I kidding? My subconscious was looking out for Mason. Then I grew frustrated with myself for acting like a sixteen-year-old with a massive crush.
I busied myself with something to do. ‘You can give us a hand by putting out the flyers about the competition to win a weekend stay.’
Caleb grinned at me. ‘You’ve done so well, Poppy. I’ve got to be honest; I did doubt whether you could pull it off.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
‘But you’ve exceeded all expectations.’
‘I’ll say she has,’ travelled an Australian accent from across the sunlit courtyard.
My heart flipped.
Mason was standing with his hands in his trouser pockets. He took a few more steps towards me. ‘You look lovely, Poppy.’
I cleared my throat. ‘Thank you.’
I drank in his white collared shirt, slate-grey waistcoat and dark trousers. He made me think of a hero in one of those steampunk novels. ‘You look very dashing.’
A mischievous sparkle reared up in his moonstone gaze. ‘Don’t you mean boring?’
‘No,’ I replied with a smile, ’I’d already intimated that about your car.’
From behind me, I became aware of figures hovering.
‘Ahem,’ Mason said. ‘It appears we have company.’
I whirled around just in time to spot my brother and Katie watching us. When they realised they’d been caught, Caleb developed a sudden fascination with his tie, while Katie broke into a wide grin that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a toothpaste advert.
I narrowed my eyes in a jokey way.
‘I’ll go and put out the complimentary drinks and canapes,’ said Caleb, smiling and nodding to Mason as he strode up to him to say hello.
Katie continued to linger at my shoulder. She waited until Mason had struck up a conversation with Caleb and then whispered. ‘You go for it, girl.’
‘Go for what?’
‘The hot historian.’
I shook my head hard. ‘I’m not intending to go for him.’ I struggled to find the right words and not look guilty.
‘He’s worth a million of Nick the Prick,’ Kate supplied. She continued studying Mason. ‘I mean, there’s no doubt that Mason is independent-minded, sure of himself, confident…’
‘Yes, he is,’ I mused, unable to stop myself admiring him.
She studied my expression. Then her brown eyes widened. ‘Oh, you liar! That’s why you’ve been focusing all your attention on the cottages and the Scarlet Highwayman, isn’t it? Oh my God! It’s because you do like Mason. You like him a lot.’
For the last few nights, I’d been struggling to get the highwayman’s jawline right on my portrait, and poring over my old research… Was this my way of trying to banish Mason from my head?
‘Rubbish!’ I snorted, fiddling with my hair and horrified by Katie’s perception. ‘Stop with the psychoanalysis babble.’
‘Oh, it isn’t babble,’ she hissed from out of the corner of her mouth. ‘You’re trying to occupy yourself and keep busy, so that you don’t have to confront how you feel about Mason.’
Good grief! Was she part witch? Psychic? I offered Katie one of my withering glares, but she ignored it. I started to walk away, protesting louder and louder over my shoulder. ‘You’ve got it all wrong.’ My voice was struggling to sound convincing, even to my own ears.
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Katie retorted at my retreating back.
I shook my head again, so hard I almost gave myself whiplash.
I didn’t want to think too much about how I was starting to feel about Mason; how my emotions and body were responding whenever he was around.
It was as though I were betraying a promise to myself, never to subject myself to pain like that again.
‘Come on. We’ve got lots to do before ten. ’
I was too preoccupied to notice a shadowy figure lingering around the corner of the annexe.