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Jack hesitated. ‘Sally Fletcher?’
‘That’s right, do you know her?’
‘Only by sight. She was a few years younger than me at school, as was your cousin.’ He must have seen Rosy around as a teen—but four years was a big gap at that age, and he’d left Polhallow when Sally and Clem had still been in their early teens. Still, the distant connection rooted Rosy, made her less a stranger. He looked at the girls and realised that not only was Clover looking hopeful but so was Tansy and his chest squeezed. She so seldom asked for anything. ‘Are you sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?’
‘Not at all. In fact I haven’t seen the first in the series so if the girls can bring me up to speed before the film starts, they’ll be the ones doing me a favour.’
‘Well, if you’re sure...’ The rest of the sentence was drowned out by Clover’s yells of excitement and before he knew it they’d swapped numbers and Rosy made arrangements to collect the girls the following afternoon before walking off with a wave. Jack watched her retreat, admiring her elegant, graceful walk and feeling that same jolt of recognition and attraction she seemed to provoke in him every time they met. But one thing was sure, he would be checking in with Sally Fletcher tonight. Attraction or no attraction, he wasn’t sending his girls out with a stranger. Their happiness and safety came first. Always.
CHAPTER THREE
‘ALICEISREALLYnice, Daddy. Her mummy said that I can go over whenever I want. But I want her to come here and play in the treehouse. Can she, Daddy?’
Arrosa had barely had a chance to ring the doorbell before Jack had opened the door and Clover tumbled inside and onto him, babbling on excitedly about the afternoon’s activities. Thank goodness she’d had such a good time; since yesterday afternoon Arrosa had asked herself several times what she’d been thinking of, volunteering to look after two complete strangers. Children at that! But once she’d collected them in Clem’s small car her doubts had lessened then disappeared completely when they’d reached the cinema, where Clover and Alice had fastened onto each other like lifelong friends separated at birth, insisting on sharing their popcorn and sitting next to each other throughout the film and at the café they’d visited afterwards. However, Arrosa had been a little bit more concerned about Tansy and, despite their short acquaintance, that concern lingered.
There was something about the girl’s preternatural maturity, the wrinkle of concern on her forehead, the way she watched her sister and fussed over her that made Arrosa’s heart ache in recognition. She knew the signs all too well of a child who’d needed to grow up too fast, who’d shouldered responsibility beyond their years, but at least Arrosa had had summers here in Cornwall, a break from the rigid routine of her life, and her four years at boarding school to alleviate the pressure. Right now, she didn’t see any sign that Tansy ever relaxed and, judging by the shadow lurking in Jack’s eyes when he looked at his oldest girl, he too was worried.
At least Jack was aware; so many parents were oblivious to their children’s struggles. Recognising them was the first step to solving them. Simone had taught her that and so much else that her own parents had been too busy to teach her.
Tansy followed her sister into the house, leaving Jack and Arrosa alone. Jack leaned on the door and smiled, his eyes filled with an approving warmth that seared through her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, holding the door a little bit further open. ‘Where are my manners? Would you like to come in?’
She would like to, very much, but Arrosa held back. ‘I’m sure you’re busy,’ she said. ‘I’d hate to intrude.’
His eyes crinkled. ‘You’ve given me the afternoon to work, I’m very appreciative. Please. Come in and have a coffee, it’s the least I can offer in return. Are you sure they weren’t too much trouble?’
‘Not at all,’ Arrosa assured him as she followed him into the wide two-storey hallway. She looked around with interest. She’d been impressed by the white nineteen-twenties Art Deco cube of a house with its stunning position on top of the cliffs when she’d driven up, but now she was inside she realised that the interior more than matched its outside. The house hadn’t been clumsily extended or garishly modernised. Instead, it was as the architect had intended, spacious and graceful, the furniture chosen to complement the era but comfortable and obviously meant for a family to live with and use, rather than expensive antiques.
Arrosa had been brought up in a mediaeval château and spent many days in the imposing castle in the capital city where her father spent much of his time in the state apartments, and she had visited many of the heads of state around the world. She was used to money and she was used to luxury; she was used to historic and impressive buildings. Gorgeous as Jack’s home was, it wasn’t a palace, although money was clearly no object. But what struck her as she noted the carefully chosen art interspersed with framed children’s pictures and family photos, the half open boot cupboard filled with sandals and wellies, the wicker basket stuffed with throws and cushions, was that this particular historic house was also a home. And that, as she knew all too well, was a much rarer combination.
‘Nice house,’ she said as she followed him into the kitchen. It was a huge room with views out towards the sea. The island in the middle held a jumble of paper, crayons and a half open book, the table by the French windows was already set for dinner. She swallowed. Jack Treloar was clearly a good father, embracing his children’s clutter, not hiding it.
‘We think so.’ Jack leaned against the island and gestured for her to sit. ‘I grew up here, in Polhallow, you know. I used to see this house and vowed one day it would be mine.’ His mouth quirked into a self-deprecating grin. ‘Some things should never be said out loud. That sounded like a line from a bad film. Apologies.’
‘Not at all, it sounds impressive. How many people go on to achieve their dreams?’ She didn’t have dreams, didn’t have anything to strive for. She just had duty. She envied him his purpose more than the achievement. Taking a seat at the island, she opted for a mint tea as Jack put the kettle on and took down two of the distinctive blue-striped Cornish mugs from the dresser. ‘Thank you for loaning me your girls, they were great company. Alice and Clover definitely took to each other.’
Jack poured hot water into one of the mugs and handed it to her. ‘That’s good, they need friends. I didn’t really think it through when I took them out of school after Easter. I just wanted to get them settled in before term started, give them a chance to have a long summer by the sea, to learn to surf and just enjoy being here. It’s been a difficult couple of years since they lost their mother, I thought they could do with a break. But, of course, they are a little lonely. And, as you probably guessed, Tansy isn’t keen on the school I chose. She wants to go to the local school.’
‘That’s where Clem went and where Simone taught,’ Arrosa took a sip of the mint tea. ‘I think it’s a good one.’
‘It is. But it’s also the school I went to once upon a time.’ He paused as he picked up his own mug. He didn’t take a seat but resumed standing against the island, staring out to sea. ‘I don’t know if your cousin has mentioned me...’
‘No, she hasn’t. Besides, I don’t like to gossip.’ Although shewasundeniably intrigued.
He laughed. ‘Then you won’t fit in around here. I’ve been the main topic of conversation in Polhallow for longer than I care to remember.’
‘Either you have a very inflated sense of self-importance, or you really do have a reputation I should ask Clem about.’
‘Probably both,’ he said. ‘The thing is, I don’t really want my girls to know that side of my past. Not yet. I don’t want them to overhear people talking about the theatre or raking up ancient history, gossiping about their mother. Besides, I’ve got the money, I can afford the best schools money can buy, so why shouldn’t they attend them?’
Arrosa picked her words carefully, trying to dampen her interest. What past? She reallydidn’tgossip but maybe she should check in with Clem. ‘I don’t think that my opinion matters here,’ she said. ‘You should do what’s right for you, for your girls, not because of what anyone else says or thinks.’
His smile was rueful. ‘A diplomatic answer. Forgive me, this is probably not what you expected when I asked you in for a drink. I seem to have forgotten how to do small talk—not that it was ever one of my skills.’
‘I didn’t have any expectations.’ Arrosa picked up her mug again, glad of the distraction, but he was right. She’d expected a little bit of chitchat about the film, not this strange, intense conversation that felt almost as if they were jumping past the basics and getting straight to intimacy. But she couldn’t let her guard down, not really. There was only so much that anyone could know about her. Not just because of her own need for anonymity but because Clem’s identity was also at stake. Polite chitchat was all she could allow.
‘Let’s start again,’ Jack said. ‘So, what is it you do when you’re not housesitting for your cousin?’
‘I’m a special adviser,’ she said. It was almost true. Shediddo a lot of advising, trying to guide the politicians towards the policies she thought necessary for the development of her country. ‘I work in diplomacy.’
