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CHAPTER 6
Rosie was nervous, thought Liam, watching her stride towards them. She was trying hard to hide it and doing a pretty good job, but the tight set of her jaw gave her away.
A year ago, he’d never have noticed it. Before Deanna, he’d been far too busy with his charmed, carefree life to pick up on subtle body language. Then he’d been too absorbed in planning a life with the one woman to finally win his heart. But when it all went horribly pear-shaped, smashing his heart, his eyes had been opened to other people’s pain.
He didn’t like it. Recognising sorrow or fear in the set of a mouth or the tilt of a head was draining and he sometimes longed to be the oblivious man he once was. His friends were expecting him to bounce back and be the Liam of old, and he’d tried. He really had. But he couldn’t escape the fact that he’d changed.
Alex nudged him hard in the ribs. ‘Is that Weirdo Rosie walking towards us? Bloody hell, she’s improved. I wouldn’t have touched her with a barge pole a few years back but now… what d’ya reckon?’
Liam winced at the cruel nickname some of the boys had used for Rosie at school. He reckoned she was looking much better than the last time he’d seen her, though her eyes were still smudged underneath with dark shadows.
‘I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,’ he laughed, because that was what Alex expected him to say. Although the truth was that no one had shared his bed for a long time.
‘For goodness’ sake, have some decorum,’ hissed Belinda, who’d shamelessly gatecrashed his coffee with Alex, intent on talking to them both about the monthly village market. She’d just taken over as head of the market’s organising team – the woman had a power complex – and was champing at the bit to make changes.
‘Sorry, Mrs Kellscroft,’ said Alex, contritely, rolling his eyes at Liam, who pretended not to notice.
‘Good morning, Rosie, my dear,’ boomed Belinda, looking her over from head to toe. Rosie gave a self-conscious smile and tucked her fair, shoulder-length hair behind her ears. ‘How are you managing up there in that lonely house? It must be utterly dreadful being there on your own with only the memory of your poor mother for company.’
Liam winced. It was a good job Belinda had never decided on counselling as a vocation. But Rosie replied, calmly, ‘I’m managing, thank you.’
She was shivering in her pretty dress and cardigan and Liam had a sudden urge to take off his jacket and drape it around her shoulders. But she wouldn’t want that, and Alex would totally take the mick.Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keenwas his friend’s mantra, and he didn’t even say it ironically. Had Liam ever been so crass? He rather feared he had been, before Deanna brought him down a peg or two.
He glanced past Rosie to the top of the church tower, just visible above the tall beech trees that lined Bakehouse Lane. It would soon be exactly a year to the day since Deanna had left him in such a public fashion, a fact that had been disrupting his sleep as much as Charles Epping’s latest rent rise. He hoped that no one in Heaven’s Cove was aware of the upcoming anniversary so it could pass unnoticed. But people around here had long memories, and Belinda especially appeared to possess a photographic recall of local tragedy and humiliation.
When he sighed, Rosie glanced at him but she’d looked away before he could rearrange his features into a smile.
‘We’re having a meeting to see if these two young men would like to help organise Heaven’s Cove Market in the future,’ said Belinda, which was news to Liam.
‘I fear we’re about to be press-ganged,’ said Alex, treating Rosie to his best flirtatious smile. Though he’d probably agree to Belinda’s request in a flash, realised Liam, because Coral was also a part of the organising team. Coral, mid-fifties, stout and married, wasn’t Alex’s type. But her daughter, Ella, most definitely was.
‘We’ve got so many plans,’ said Belinda, ‘For a start, we’re going to rebrand the market and I’ve asked Charles Epping and his wife to perform a grand re-opening ceremony – cut a ribbon or something. Though I don’t suppose they will, even though they owe a great deal to Heaven’s Cove. A good number of people here have paid them rent over the years, including your own mother, it seems, Rosie.’
‘That’s right,’ said Rosie, levelly. Liam hoped that only he noticed the tell-tale tightening of her jaw muscles.
‘We all assumed that Driftwood House belonged to your mother.’
‘Well, now you know it doesn’t.’
Rosie gave Liam a hard stare. She obviously suspected him of gossiping about her business, as though he didn’t have more important things to keep him occupied these days. When Liam glared back, annoyed at being cast as the villain for no good reason, she held his gaze for a moment before looking towards the sea.
Belinda shook her head. ‘I must admit it came as quite a shock to find out the truth.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Rosie bit her lower lip as though the words had tumbled out without her permission.
‘You did know that the Epping family owned Driftwood House, didn’t you, dear?’ Belinda’s eyes were shining at the prospect of more juicy gossip.
‘Of course I did,’ said Rosie, brightly. ‘Mum told me everything. We were really close.’
She looked again at Liam, but this time her gaze held a plea rather than an accusation. When he gave her a tight nod, her shoulders dropped under her cream cardi. He would keep her secret, even if she thought he’d already partly blabbed.
‘Well, I suppose you were close emotionally, even if rarely geographically,’ said Belinda, with a small laugh.
Pain flickered in Rosie’s big brown eyes and she clasped her arms around her waist, like she was giving herself a hug. ‘It’s good to see you but I’d better be getting on.’
‘Of course, dear. I expect you’ve got a lot to organise, what with moving your mother’s belongings out of Driftwood House, and then there’s the funeral next week. It’s on Wednesday afternoon, I believe.’
‘That’s right, and I’m on my way to see Reverend Hill about that now so I’d better hurry. Good luck with the market.’
