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“She asked you to do this?” Because that, right there, was all the reason Charlie needed to say no.
“No, no, no.” Tony shook his head. “She has no idea I’m here. You see, the thing is, she thinks she’s in love with you.”
“She’s not,” Charlie assured him. “And even if she was...”
“You’re not in love with her, I know. And a little free advice? You might want to tell Mia about that at some point.” Tony sighed. “No, Becky and me? We’re a match. And it’s time for her to wake up to that. I need something to pin her down. The offer of a new life here might just be the thing.”
“You think?”
“It’s a perfect set-up,” Tony explained. “We can use the cottage as a weekend bolthole, and if you’re not here, she’ll be happy with that. I know she thinks she wants to live here, but she’d hate it within a month.”
“Just like last time,” Charlie agreed. Looked like Tony knew Becky.
“Exactly. So we come up here every few months, live in London the rest of the time. She never has to see you again because she’ll be too busy with other parts of the business.”
“What about the casino?”
“That’s easy.” Tony dismissed it with a hand wave. “I’ll offer it to her, but she’ll soon be ready for me to put a manager in her place and let her come back to Manchester. She needs a challenge, you see, just like me.”
Charlie didn’t ask what Tony was going to do if Mia’s festival actually raised enough to buy the cinema. It didn’t matter, because...
“It’s a generous offer,” he said. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn you down.”
“Why?” Tony asked. “You’re not in love with Becky, you can take Mia to London with you–bet she’d love to get out of this town. You need something to make the restaurant a success. So what’s stopping you?” Tony obviously didn’t know Mia.
Still, Charlie thought about his answer. If Mia didn’t save the Coliseum, she’d leave town, he was sure of it. And if she asked, he’d go with her. Which would mean selling StarFish. And Charlie knew this was a one-time offer. Tony wasn’t the sort of man to ask twice.
And yet. “I have faith. Mia’s going to save this town, one way or another. And I want to be here to see it.”
Chapter 18
Mia lay in bed that night, counting the hours until the festival opened on her alarm clock and listening to the wind rising up outside her window. The rain was battering at the glass now, powered on by ever-repeating gusts and gales, and she hoped the company hiring out the stall booths was right about them being fully waterproof.
She wished she’d asked about windproof, too.
What was her dad doing in this weather? The cottage couldn’t be a pleasant place to spend a night like this. Had Charlie got the roof fixed yet? Were there even any electrics? There wasn’t any heating for sure.
What if there was a power cut? She checked her clock again. It was battery-powered, so proof of nothing. Flicking the switch on her bedside light, she waited in the darkness for a bulb that never came on.
So the power was out. Great.
Whatever her father had done, he didn’t deserve to suffer this sort of weather alone. Hauling herself out of her warm cocoon of blankets, she pawed her way to her dressing table chair and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater she hoped was the right way out. Then, guided only by the light of her mobile phone, she navigated her way down the stairs, into the A to Z shop and all way to the T shelf, where she finally found a torch.
After another brief stop at the B shelf for batteries, she found her coat on the rack, tugged her hood over her head, and set out into the storm.
The easiest path up to the lighthouse keeper’s cottage was from the beach. Mia figured it would give her a chance to check on the festival site, too. Just in case. But as she headed down Water Street, she saw candles lit in the window of StarFish and her heart relaxed, just a little. Her dad must have come down from the cottage and was crashing with Charlie for the night. That made sense.
But the portion of her heart that had kept her up worrying wouldn’t let it go.
She paused in the middle of Water Street, raindrops sluicing down her face and her soaked jeans sticking to her legs.
“Oh, what the hell,” she muttered. It would only take a moment to check he was there. And who knew, maybe Charlie would offer to warm her up before she went home...if he wasn’t already packing to get out of town.
The door to the restaurant was open and, eager to get safe and warm, Mia banged through at speed. Charlie’s head jerked up from behind the bar, his eyes wide and his hair bed-tossed.
“Thank God somebody’s got a torch,” he said, standing up. “Candles are plenty romantic, but less practical for actually going out in the rain.”
“Is Dad here?” Mia pushed her hood down and discovered that, despite her waterproof, her hair was still soaked. Just like the rest of her.
Charlie shook his head. “And there’s no answer on his phone. I was just about to go and check the cottage for him. Bring him here for the night.”
Mia’s heart sank lower, weighed down by rain and broken hope. Charlie gave her a knowing look. “I guess you want to come with me?”
Shrugging, Mia put her hood back up, for whatever good it would do. “I was just heading down to the beach,” she lied. “Thought I’d check the booths are still standing.”
“Right.” Charlie tugged a waterproof jacket over his t-shirt and jeans. “Well, we can do that on the way.”
The rain was getting worse, crashing against the pavement and splashing up past her knees. The racket made it impossible to talk, so Mia took to silently creating some very inventive curses for every weather forecaster who’d said, “Rain overnight, and some showers tomorrow.” This wasn’t rain. It was a deluge.
“Someone should be building an ark,” she muttered, and Charlie squinted at her through the water, unable to hear.
She shook her head, sending water flying around her, and pressed on for the cliff path, pausing to take a quick look at the festival site as they reached the beach. It was too depressing to linger.
“Do you want to go check the booths?” Charlie yelled in her ear.
Mia pulled herself up to reply, “No point. We can’t do anything in this weather.”
Charlie nodded and, taking her hand in his, followed her torchlight up the steep cliff path.
They were out of breath by the time they reached the top, the wind and the rain making a usually energetic climb downright draining. Peering out at the blacked-out cottage, Mia reminded herself a lack of lights wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. Even if the cottage electrics were fixed, there was a blackout.
She ignored the memory of Ditsy recounting how George had been into the A to Z shop to purchase a torch and batteries earlier in the week. And the gaps on the shelves when she’d grabbed her own.
“Come on, then,” Charlie said, his voice whipped away on the wind as he dragged her forward. “Let’s get inside.”
In the blackness of the cottage, Mia’s hearing started to return, protected by the thick stone walls.
“Thank God I got the windows sorted early,” Charlie said, keeping hold of her hand and leading her into the lounge.
“What about the roof?” Mia traced her free hand along the wall for balance.
“It’ll hold,” Charlie said, and he sounded sure, so Mia decided to believe him. “George?” he called out. But the words just echoed off the stone walls.
He wasn’t there, and they both knew he wasn’t there, but they searched every inch of the cottage by torchlight anyway, just in case. Eventually they found themselves in the lounge again, standing in front of the window seat, staring out at the rain.
“Do you want to wait here?” Charlie asked. “See if he comes back?”
Mia thought about going out into the rain and shuddered. “It was bad enough getting up the path. I’m not sure I want to try getting down it.”
Charl
ie nodded. “Okay. Then let’s find some blankets, get out of these clothes, get settled and turn off the torch before we wear out the batteries.”
Somewhere in there was a joke, a line about getting out of wet clothes, a tease about a come-on. But she was cold and tired and, once again, had no idea where her father was.
Mia shivered and let Charlie strip the sodden coat from her shoulders.
“I’ve got some spare work clothes here somewhere,” he went on as she toed off her trainers. “I’m sure I can scrounge up a t-shirt for you. Wait here and I’ll go see what we’ve got in the way of blankets and towels.”
Charlie picked up a second torch, lying on top of a toolbox, and headed into the hallway. Mia got a glimpse of it in passing—not the same as hers. Not the one her father had bought from the A to Z shop.
So, wherever he was, hopefully he had some light.
