Page 38 of And Then There Was You

Thirty-Two Zach

I didn’t want to leave her last night.

After everything that happened, I didn’t want her to be alone. I offered to sleep on the sofa in her flat above Sweet Reverie – honestly meaning to stay there, not use it as a reason to gain an invite into her home. But she refused.

So I returned to the studio, light-headed and giddy with the suddenness of everything. I don’t remember going to bed but I guess I must have, because I jolted awake at the sound of my alarm at four-thirty a.m.

That kiss was everything.

Whatever happened after it, I would have done without question. Because being with Merryn changed everything.

But now I’m on my bakery delivery route, trying to wrap my head around the bold suggestion I made. How the hell am I going to help Merryn find the man who owned the piano?

What if he’s dead?

She said as much herself, stopping short of actually giving the possibility voice.

But honestly, why else would a man who had taken the piano with him everywhere he went leave it in a house due for development?

I’ve seen the street where Merryn found the piano.

There’s a run of three houses there that I can’t remember anyone having lived in.

Right in the middle of the boutique B&Bs and luxury holiday rentals that dominate the street, their tangled gardens and empty windows at odds with their glamorous, expensive neighbours.

It was only a matter of time before a developer snapped them up.

It’s a surprise that it’s taken so long for it to happen.

I guess we should start in the street. Even if nobody can remember Grant Henderson, they might be able to tell us how long the house has been empty.

Perhaps the developer will tell us when they acquired the property.

From there, we can maybe track down the original owner or landlord and see where that takes us.

I could be setting Merryn up for a fall. The last thing I’d ever want to do. But if she wants to look for this guy, I’m going to make sure she isn’t doing it alone.

And then there’s the kiss.

Kisses , as it turned out.

She pulled me in for another when we stood at the end of the passageway – a lingering, intense kiss we both leaned into, despite the late hour and the exhaustion of the night’s events.

On my way back to Downalong Bakery, I take a detour to drive down North Terrace.

It’s easy to spot the houses currently being renovated: scaffolding surrounds them and the middle building is missing a roof.

A large brOTHERSON DEVELOPMENTS banner has been hung across the scaffolding.

Maybe they would know who occupied the houses they’re now developing?

The idea sparks a plan.

I’m not due to meet Merryn until late again tonight, following the evening opening. But this can’t wait.

By the time my shift at the bakery is complete, I know where I’m going.

*

The smile that Merryn sends me when I walk into Sweet Reverie is the best reward. The frosty glare from her café assistant, not so welcoming.

‘Hope you’re payin’ this time.’ She pouts, standing protectively close to Merryn.

‘It’s okay, Ruthie. You two need a proper introduction anyway. So, Zach, this is Ruthie, my assistant. Ruthie, this is Zach, my . . . friend .’

The pause is interesting, although not a cause for concern. What should we call each other now? We’ve shared two amazing kisses and I’ve played piano for her. Does that mean we’re together? Or heading towards it?

Ruthie gives me the briefest nod. ‘Just as long as he’s not goin’ to skip out on us, I have no objections.’

I wasn’t aware we needed her approval, but okay. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Same, I s’pose. What can I get for you?’

‘Merryn, actually.’

Ruthie readies a return volley, but Merryn intervenes.

‘I’m all yours.’ There’s a definite sparkle in her eyes as she says it. I feel like we’re kids, sneaking around behind our parents’ backs. It’s a thrill I want to hang on to.

‘Have you taken your break yet?’

‘No.’

‘Any chance I can whisk you away for half an hour when you do?’

Merryn looks to Ruthie, who responds with a shrug. ‘I don’t see why not. I’ll be ready in about twenty minutes? Please, take a seat.’

‘Okay. Can I order a coffee and maybe a slice of chocolate cake, please?’ I risk a wink at her assistant, who scowls back. ‘I’m happy to pay upfront, if you like.’

‘Might be an idea.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Merryn says, pointedly. ‘I’ll bring it over to you.’

She’s gorgeous.

I find a table midway down the café and watch her at work.

I’m struck by how many of her customers she knows.

She shares a joke, a smile – whatever it takes to make people feel at home.

For the obvious holidaymakers she offers kind words and recommendations for things to do. Nothing dims her light. It’s amazing.

The coffee is good and the chocolate cake better, finally pacifying the grumble my stomach has had since I set out for work in the pre-dawn light. And then, Merryn is at my table, bag slung across her body, smile trained on me alone.

‘Ready.’

It’s a ten-minute walk from Star Court to North Terrace, the road rising steeply away from the town centre.

Our hands bump together as we walk, each collision causing self-conscious smiles.

When we pass the tiny Royal Cinema, I dare to take her hand.

Her smile as her fingers lock with mine is the best thing in my day.

I never imagined that returning to St Ives, as lost and rudderless as I was, might lead to finding someone like Merryn. Love, like everything else in my life, seemed a luxury I could ill afford.

But this feels right.

We reach the house, today a hive of activity with two Brotherson Developments vans parked outside. A long green plastic chute has been fixed to the scaffolding, bricks and roof tiles being thrown down it into a waiting skip.

‘Excuse me,’ I call to a huge bear of a bloke, wearing a yellow hi-vis gilet and dusty blue hard hat, who’s loading sand into a rolling concrete mixer. ‘Excuse me?’

The builder turns, dislodging an ear bud. ‘Wasson?’

‘Do you know who the landlord was of this place before Brotherson Developments acquired it?’

‘Not the foggiest,’ he calls back over the noise of the concrete mixer.

‘Any idea who might?’

‘Hang on.’ He steps over a pallet of bricks and moves to the side of one of the vans, banging on the side with his gloved fist. ‘Boss! Visitor!’

The side door of the van slides open and a tall, handsome bloke gets out. He instantly breaks into a smile when he sees us, walking straight past me to hug Merryn. I’m so surprised I’m just left there, gawping on the pavement.

Merryn breaks free from the hug, laughing. ‘Sorry, Zach, meet Jack Dixon, one of our very good customers.’

Now I see it. In his work clothes, I didn’t recognise him: the dad of the girl who bumped into me at the evening opening celebration. ‘Hi. You work for Brotherson Developments?’

‘For my sins.’ Jack grins.

‘Are you working on this house?’

‘Not usually, no. Our regular foreman is off sick, so I’m stepping in.’

‘Maybe you can help us,’ Merryn says, glancing at me.

‘Sure, if I can.’

‘The piano we have at Sweet Reverie . . .’

‘Merlin? Nessie can’t stop talking about it.’

‘That’s so sweet,’ Merryn replies, her smile as bright as the summer sun.

‘Thing is, Seth and I found Merlin here, outside this house, a few weeks ago. It had a Free To A Good Home sign on it. I’ve just discovered it was once owned by someone my mum dated, way back when I was a kid.

We lost touch, but if his piano is here it means he was, too.

I was just wondering if you know who the owner of this place was before Brotherson bought it? ’

‘Wow, okay.’ Jack leans against the van. ‘Like I said, this isn’t my project, but I can certainly do some digging back at the office. You want to track him down?’

‘Yes.’ I hear the resolve in her reply.

‘More power to you. What was the guy’s name?’

‘Grant Henderson.’

‘Okay, cool.’ He pulls a pencil from behind his ear and a small notebook from his back pocket, scribbling down the name. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do. Oh, while you’re here, remember that picnic I asked if you could cater?’

‘Yes?’

He gives a sheepish smile. ‘Any chance you could do it this Sunday?’

‘ This Sunday?’

‘Yeah. Sorry. I was going to leave it till the end of summer, but Seren’s best mate is expecting and she’s due literally any day. I’d hate for her not to be there.’

‘At the picnic?’

‘Mm-hm. So, what do you reckon? Is it a goer?’

That seems like ridiculously short notice to me, but Merryn is clearly considering the logistics.

‘If we scale back on the food, make it sandwiches, scones and cakes instead of canapés and a hot buffet, I think it’s possible. I’ll have to see if Ruthie will be available, but I’ll make it work.’

‘Yes! Beauty!’ Jack punches the air and gathers Merryn into another enormous hug, much to the amusement of his colleagues on the building site. ‘Cheers for this, Mer. It’s going to be epic!’

‘Is that something you can do at such short notice?’ I ask her, as we’re walking back down into the town. Her hand is back in mine, swinging between us, the point where our skin connects deliciously warm.

‘It’ll be a challenge,’ she admits. ‘But Jack and Seren have supported the café from the beginning. And if I can make it work, who knows what else might come of it?’

‘Seems a lot of work for a beach picnic, though.’

‘That’s because it’s not just a beach picnic.’ Her smile is enigmatic, as if there’s a secret code I’m unaware of.

‘What do you mean?’

She laughs and squeezes my hand. ‘Nothing. Come on, I need to rescue Ruthie before the afternoon tea crowd descends.’

I watch her as we walk towards Star Court, this incredible woman who can tap into hope at will. Knowing where she came from, and what she dealt with at an age no kid should ever have to, makes her all the more amazing.

I’m falling for her, fast. There’s no point denying it: when it comes to Merryn Rowe, I’m in. Wherever this takes us.

Which makes me all the more determined to find Grant Henderson.