Page 30 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay (Sturcombe Bay Romances #3)

The tyres of the sleek green car crunched on the gravel hard standing of his front garden, and Paul leaned back with a sigh. After three days in London, with all the noise and grey pavements and tall buildings crowding in, it was good to be back where he belonged.

He sat there for several minutes, just slowly winding down.

Stretton. Fortunately, he didn’t have to deal with scurvy like that too often. When you were the one doing the investing, if you didn’t care for them you could just walk away.

Did he really have another potential buyer for the hotel? Possibly. Or it could be just an invention, to push him to increase his bid.

How much would he be willing to pay? Probably considerably more than it was worth. His business head told him he was an idiot to let sentiment intrude on a deal, but this was more than just another business deal. This was important.

Trying to shake off the mood, he climbed out of the car, but he didn’t immediately go into the house. Instead, he crossed the road and stood for a moment by the cliff wall, breathing in deeply, savouring the cool, salt-tanged air.

There was a stiff breeze blowing in from the sea, and the waves were dancing, crested with frills of white foam as they chased each other over the sand.

At the far end of the beach, the Carleton gleamed white in the cool autumn sunshine. Sentiment . . . Well, so what? Smiling to himself, he turned and strolled down the hill.

With each week there were fewer holidaymakers. Soon the town would sink into its winter torpor, with just the locals dropping in for a coffee at the CupCake Café or walking their dogs on the beach.

He had reached the far end of the Esplanade and was crossing the road to the Memorial Gardens when he heard someone call his name.

“Paul! Hi!”

He glanced over his shoulder to see his sister, Lisa, walking down Church Road with little Kyra in her baby buggy.

“Hello, there. And hello you.” He bent to tickle his little niece’s toes. “Ah, she smiled at me.”

“Wind.”

“Huh! Anyway, where are you off to?” he asked Lisa.

“I thought I’d just pop over to the hotel to see if Vicky needs any help with the preparations for Christmas. It can be a bit full on with the Turkey-and-Tinsel crowds.”

He laughed. “You really can’t just relax and enjoy your maternity leave, can you? I bet you’re over here every day.”

“Well, not every day. And I do try not to interfere. But I love the old place. It’s kinda special.”

“It is.” No, he wouldn’t tell her his plans just yet. If there was going to be a bidding war, it could get . . . difficult.

“Anyway, how about you?” she asked.

He shrugged in casual unconcern. “Oh, nowhere in particular.”

She wasn’t fooled. “No? Just in the general direction of the hotel, then?”

“Well . . .”

Lisa’s eyes danced. “Hoping a certain redhead may be on reception?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a nosy little madam, Annelise Cullen?”

“You did — frequently — when we were kids,” she returned smartly.

“And you still are.”

They both laughed.

“Well, let’s get a coffee anyway, and I promise not to pry if Jess should happen to be there.”

As they strolled through the front doors Vicky was coming out of the dining room with a clipboard on her arm. She greeted them with a warm smile. “Hi.”

“Hi. Just popped in to see how you’re getting on with the prep for Christmas.”

Vicky laughed. “It’s fun. We’ve brought up the boxes of decorations — they’re in the ballroom. And the trees are on order.”

“Great. How about the arrangements for the T’n’T groups?”

“Oh, boy — I’m glad you warned me about that! It’ll be great to have the place so lively, but all the comings and goings are hard to keep track of. Three days, four days, mid-week, weekends, which days they want early calls, which evenings they want dinner. Nightmare!”

“I hope my spreadsheet helps.”

“It does. Without that it’d be impossible. Anyway, come and have a coffee, then if you’ve got time maybe you could go through it with me and let me know any little quirks we need to take account of.”

“That’s why I came over, to see if I could help.”

“And you brought the little one over for a visit.” Vicky bent over the buggy. “And just look at you, little Kyra. Aren’t you growing?” The baby waved her chubby little arms as Vicky tickled her tummy. “Ah, she smiled at me.”

“Wind,” Paul asserted. “What?” Lisa had rolled her eyes at him. “That’s what you always say when she smiles at me.”

“Ignore him,” Lisa advised. “So, you next?” She nodded towards the baby.

“It’s on the agenda, but listed for next year.”

Lisa laughed. “Babies don’t do lists.”

Paul was glad that they didn’t notice him roll his eyes. Babies, already! Vicky and Tom Cullen, one of his oldest friends, had only been married a few weeks, and were just back from their honeymoon.

He had to admit that she was looking well on it. She positively radiated newlywed happiness, her hair streaked light blonde by the Spanish sun, her skin tinted pale gold.

Shaking his head, he strolled out to the terrace and was mildly surprised to see old Arthur sitting out there with his grandson.

Though it was sunny it was November, and there was a distinct chill in the air.

But the old man was well wrapped up against the cold in a warm overcoat, with a blanket over his knees.

“Hello there, Arthur. I thought you’d be here — I saw your Batmobile outside.”

The old man chuckled. “Smart, ain’t it? Goes like the wind, too. Come and join us. Want a scone?”

Lisa lifted the baby out of her buggy, and Paul held out his arms for her. “Here, I’ll take her.” He only had a partial ulterior motive. He enjoyed bouncing the tot on his lap, but it didn’t hurt that women were supposed to melt over a man holding a baby. If Jess happened to be around . . .

He settled the tot comfortably in the crook of his arm, and she gazed up at him with huge blue-grey eyes, her chubby cheeks dimpling as she smiled.

“There! She really did smile at me.”

“Wind.”

“Of course it wasn’t. You recognised your Uncle Paul, didn’t you, Toots?”

“Go on believing that,” Lisa advised dryly. “She’s probably filling her nappy.”

He glanced at her in alarm, but Lisa laughed.

“You’re okay. She had a fresh one on before we came out.”

Arthur was chuckling again. “Ah, she got you there!” He leaned over and gave the baby his finger to clutch, her tiny pink hand wrapping around his thin, wrinkled one as she stared up at him — and smiled again. “There, now, that was a smile,” he insisted with glee. “A proper one.”

Paul had been watching for Jess, but she didn’t seem to be around. She hadn’t said if she was planning to stay, but if he let the hotel be closed down she would certainly be leaving.

That was another reason to keep it open. Maybe more of a reason than he was willing to acknowledge.

Vicky came out with a tray of cups and a fresh cafetiere of coffee, and sat down at the end of the table. “I just need to keep half an eye on the desk,” she explained.

“Paul, you haven’t seen Vicky’s photos from the Pradera yet, have you?” Lisa asked.

“Oh, no. Show me.”

Vicky pulled out her phone, called up the images, and passed it over. “They had a whole wall of Juan-Jorge’s paintings in one of the rooms, along with the sketches he did of Tom’s grandmother and the others. That’s the one of my Aunt Molly, in the centre.”

“I heard about that,” Alex remarked. Paul passed the phone across the table to him. “It must have been amazing to see them hanging in a prestigious art gallery like that.”

“It was.” Vicky glanced at Lisa. “Why didn’t he do one of your Nanna Edie?”

Arthur snorted. “Pah! Too ugly!”

“Grandpa!”

“What? I’m just telling the truth. If I can’t tell the truth at my age . . .”

“Yes, I know.” The big Canadian rolled his eyes. “You’re ninety-four. You outlived them all. I wonder why you never mention it?”

“Pah!”

“What did you think about those old photo albums, Arthur?” Lisa asked, trying to distract him.

“Ah, very good, my luvver, very good. Lots of those guys I remember. Johnny Leadbetter — now, he was a proper ’un. Lungs had been damaged when his plane caught fire, but he was always laughing and joking. Then he died.”

A shadow crossed his face.

“He always used to sit out here, over there in the corner.” He looked across as if he could still see his old friend in his usual place.

“We came up one day, me and my pals, and his chair was empty. They just told us he’d gone, but we heard later he’d died in his sleep.

Just like that. Still, it was a good way to go, I suppose, even though he weren’t no older than twenty-one. ”

“Oh, that’s so sad,” Lisa murmured.

“It’s awful that the place could be closed,” Vicky sighed. “It ought to be kept as a memorial to all those brave men.”

Paul smiled down at the baby on his lap, and put his finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he whispered softly. “Secret.”

Arthur was chuckling with laughter. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he declared, beaming broadly. “My grandson’s going to see it right. Ain’t you, lad?”

There was a moment’s startled silence.

“My Alex is going to buy it,” the old man crowed. “What do you think of that, eh?”