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“I came to Catcher Lane with Pierre and Gabriel. My name is Liam Hazelwood.”
It comes back to me. “Of course. Good to see you again.”
The loudspeaker announces the final call for the ferry. “Are you going to Guernsey?” I ask him.
“No, I’m a little early. I’m waiting for the Southampton Ferry.”
Actually, now he mentions it, Southampton would be a better route for me too, saves me having to hang around in Guernsey. I may as well wait.
Liam seems tired even though it’s barely 11 a.m. He stretches his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and leans back against the seat, closing his eyes. I try to remember what I know about him. He’s a nurse or a physiotherapist working for Lord M. and wasn’t there a dispute about one of the houses?
“You bought Mrs Xavier’s house, didn’t you?”
He sighs. “After a lot of hassle. I should have had it last February. I agreed the sale with the old owner after she came to that public meeting. But then I…” He pauses, as if trying to choose his words. “I had to go to England and was delayed a few weeks there. When I came back, Morris and Sweeny had bought it. I don’t mind telling you I was gutted. I’d waited a whole year for a house.”
The mention of Morris and Sweeny still makes me want to punch something. If they had never tried to buy Labri Catch, Elodie and I would still be together. I would have never lost my trust in her.
I shake my head to banish the useless thought.
“They caused you a lot of trouble, too, I heard,” he says.
I shrug. What would be the point of going through all that again?
“They made us all sweat. But they got their comeuppance, and no mistake,” he continues. “George called it right. He said they were over extended and told me to hold on, but there were days when I lost all hope.”
“Me too.”
Morris and Sweeny, with a massive loan from an investor all on the promise of acquiring all of Catcher Hill, needed to show results quickly. And George Du Montfort, who was far, far more resourceful than he ever let on, had done his homework, and found out where they got their money. All he had to do was make sure the Labri Catch sale dragged on and on with no end in sight and the investor pulled out.
He couldn’t do anything about the first house they bought, though. And Morris and Sweeny might have made a go of it, but the people of La Canette came to the rescue.
If I hadn’t been there and seen it with my own eyes, I’d never have believed it. People simply closed ranks. No builder would take the job. No one would deliver their goods. And when they hired a construction team from Jersey, people were outraged. Every single hotel and guest house claimed to have no vacancies. The pub wouldn’t serve them, even the pasty stand wouldn’t sell them food.
It took two weeks before Morris and Sweeny threw in the towel and pulled out.
“We could have been near neighbours,” I tell Liam. “Except, I’m leaving.”
“I heard,” he says, “but we wouldn’t be neighbours because I’m leaving too.”
“Moving?” I ask.
“No…” He pauses. Then he surprises me. “Are you really not coming back?”
I nod. It still feels bitter. For a time, I didn’t think anything would force me to leave, I thought La Canette was home. But none of it feels right anymore. Not after my break from Elodie. Without her, the place feels empty.
“I would have liked to live in that house,” Liam says. “To renovate it. But it doesn’t look likely now.”
“Forgive me if this is a personal question, but why did you buy it if you’re leaving?”
He pauses, thinking. “I have a wish, something that seems impossible. But that house might just make it come true.”
We say nothing for a while. I watch the Saint Malo ferry dock, passengers come down the gangway, others go up the gangway and board, then the ferry sails off to France. When the terminal is quiet again, I ask him, “Is it a woman? The reason you’re leaving?”
He gives me a quizzical look. “A woman?” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be telling you this but since you too are leaving, I suppose there’s no harm. I’m going to London, Royal Marsden hospital, for a course of treatment. Should take a couple of months. So, I’ve told everyone here I’m going on holiday.”
Then his lips twist in a lopsided smile. “Some of my colleagues at Du Montfort Hall are convinced that I have a woman waiting for me in London. I overheard them gossip in the kitchen that such a long holiday must mean I’m going to elope with my secret girlfriend and have a honeymoon.” He shakes his head again as if to laugh at such an outrageous idea.
“But no, there’s no woman,” he says. “I did hope when I applied for a house that this might happen, but not now. It’s not in the heavens for me.”
