Page 16 of The Little Cottage by the Cornish Sea

The next morning, I was jittery and sweating buckets before my interview.

Emmie had promised to take me and was due any minute.

Just as I opened the door, a black BMW slid into view, softly crunching the gravel on the drive.

I instinctively shut the door, my heart pounding.

Will! Was it possible? How had he found me?

Were the police with him? I bolted the door shut and cowered in the corner, tears of horror pricking at my eyes.

The sound of footsteps crunching over gravel was followed by the doorbell ringing.

‘Hey Sophie! It’s Nina!’ came a joyful call from behind the door. ‘Let’s get you interviewed!’

I gasped. Nina! But Emmie had already offered. I wiped the tears from my face and flung the door open.

‘Hey, you,’ she said as I stepped aside for her to come in. ‘Emmie couldn’t make it, so I— What’s wrong? Why are you crying?’

‘I’m fine,’ I assured her, but the look of true concern and kindness on her face bore a hole in my projected coolness. ‘I’m ok-kay…’

‘The hell you are,’ she said, taking me by the arms and guiding me to the settee. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

I wiped my eyes and shook my head. ‘Nothing. I just didn’t recognise your car.’

‘It’s my friend Emma’s. She’s in town to plan a wedding. Sophie, you can trust me. What’s wrong?’

‘I know, I’m sorry. Later, okay? I’ll tell you all later. Promise. But right now, I just need to get to my interview.’

‘Then let’s make tracks!’ she answered with a smile.

I was so grateful for all this kindness.

Where I came from, people didn’t do people any favours, let alone unsolicited ones.

Where I came from, it was mostly about jealousy, envy and scheming against others.

As a PA at a legal firm, I was surrounded by it, even complicit in it.

I felt ashamed for ever allowing myself to think that these women were untrustworthy.

‘You didn’t think we were going to let you schlep all the way up that hill on foot, did you?’

I laughed, the tension slowly ebbing out of me. ‘Schlep…’

‘Yes, sorry. I stayed in the US too long this time. God, I’m so glad to be back here in the land of mud and rain!’

Despite myself, I laughed again.

Nina patted my back. ‘That’s it. Come on, let’s get going. Piers is going to love you.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so. Got your bag?’

I nodded, reaching for my resume as well. I had no choice but to continue deceiving everyone around me. And it was killing me.

*

To call Rosestones a manor was an understatement. With turrets and moats, enormous grounds with actual ha-has, not to mention gables, it was more like a castle.

‘Wow’ was all I could say as we neared the property.

Nina smiled. ‘Wait until you get inside. There’s a Minstrel’s gallery, portraits, anything you can think of.’

‘Is it open to the public?’ I asked.

She laughed. ‘God, no!

Closer to the actual manor I stopped in awe under a huge arch, a topiary marvel made with yew and lavender under which rested a solitary bench that looked perfect for a lazy afternoon of reading. Only I wasn’t here to read or be lazy. I was here to try and make a living.

‘I know, gorgeous, isn’t it?’ Nina said. ‘The manor is Elizabethan and has mullioned windows. All leaded. Six hundred separate panes. It was bought a wreck and Piers lovingly restored it all.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘Because he let us shoot a movie here a few years ago.’

‘Wow.’

‘Only now he wants his privacy back.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘But you’ll love working here. He’s a great employer and a friend to everyone in the village. He also runs the farm, making jams and preserves of all kinds.’

It was difficult to believe that the man living there was as informal as the girls had said.

‘Just be yourself and talk to him about your work experience,’ Nina said as I stared at the site.

‘You know the drill. I’m not saying the job’s practically yours, because he wants to meet you first to see if you are a good fit or not.

But believe me, you have no reason to be nervous. He’s a real gent. So just relax, okay?’

Relax . This was my first job interview in more than half a decade and I had no idea what to do. Had interview protocol changed? I hadn’t been able to glean much from my internet research last night. But I guess it was time to throw myself into the mix again. Survival of the fittest and all that.

‘Okay, thanks ever so much.’ I took a deep breath.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she said, patting me on the back. ‘Call me when you’re done and I’ll come pick you up. Good luck!’ And with that, she drove off.

At the front door, I used the brass knocker and adjusted my silk scarf.

The door opened to reveal the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.

She was the kind of woman who was perfectly put together from head to toe, from her long, elegant neck to her waspish waist line, while her tan, suede skirt hugged her perfect hips all the way down to her tan stilettos.

She wore tons of obviously expensive jewellery, and it all came together flawlessly.

Somehow, she seemed out of place in Starry Cove. Not that people weren’t well-groomed, mind you. But she looked like a celebrity, and I wondered whether she might actually be one, and whether I should’ve known who she was.

‘Hello, I’m… Sophie Graham,’ I said and consciously ran a hand over my own short hair, wishing I’d made more of an effort with it. She assessed me pointedly, then sighed.

‘Please follow me.’

To keep up with her, I had to practically jog after her down a lengthy corridor as her long, black, silky hair swished from side to side.

If she saw I was lagging, she made no effort to wait. With each step, I convinced myself that I wasn’t good enough to work in a place like this, with these practically perfect people, and by the time we got to the door at the end, I was freaking out.

‘Come in,’ she said, pushing the door wide open. ‘Have a seat.’

As I did so, checking my surroundings, she sat opposite me.

‘Mr Henshaw will not be able to take this interview,’ she informed me.

‘Oh. I understand.’ Which I didn’t, really. Hadn’t he sent me an email to confirm?

At that, she smiled. ‘I’m afraid you don’t, Ms Graham. Mr Henshaw has very high expectations for his workforce.’

I opened my mouth to protest. I couldn’t let it go. The old me would have, but not this one. Not the new me. ‘I was sent by a mutual friend.’

‘That may well be,’ she condescended. ‘Still, Mr Henshaw is not required to satisfy just anyone’s request at the drop of a hat. We here at Rosestones Manor have very high standards. And I don’t think you meet them. I’ll have our chauffer drive you back into the village.’

I stood up. ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.

I’ll see myself out. Good day,’ I chirped, and turned to leave before she could say humiliate me even further.

She had made it as clear as the waters in Starry Cove bay that I was not fit for the job, based on absolutely nothing except the way I looked.

What was it about me that had disturbed her so much that she wouldn’t even reschedule an interview that her boss had set up? So much for being a gent, this Piers Henshaw. And his assistant, or wife or whoever she was, was no better. She hadn’t even introduced herself.

I practically stumbled down the hill, dizzy with humiliation, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. But I would not cry, not this time. I had been through too much to let some lanky-haired snob make me feel ashamed of myself.

But in truth, she was the least of my problems. There must be some kind of misunderstanding.

Mr Henshaw had been expecting me. I had come recommended from Emmie and the girls.

What reason would he have not to see me?

One thing was certain. I was not going to be treated the same way I had been when I worked with Will, as if I was invisible.

I lifted my chin up against the cold wind, my still unshed tears threatening to freeze in my water line. Let her have her moment of glory, whoever she was. She probably had nothing else in her life besides that pompous job that made her feel important. Well, I had bigger fish to fry.

*

‘I can’t believe it!’ Rosie cried from across my tiny dining table while the rest of the coastal girls shook their heads in rage.

Nina had called my mobile when I was not waiting for her outside Rosestones Manor so I’d had to explain what had happened. In my shock, I had completely forgotten that she had promised to return to fetch me.

‘The nerve ,’ Nina said, shaking her head.

‘I’m calling that piece of work up to demand an apology,’ Nat seethed.

‘Girls, please. It’s not necessary. Obviously, he doesn’t need anyone that badly.’

‘Oh, but he does,’ Faith interjected. ‘That Patsy was wrong for him from the start. How dare she take a business meeting for him!’

‘Well, it looks like Patsy knows his business very well. She carried herself like a celebrity.’

‘Nonsense,’ Nina said. ‘She has no business whatsoever treating you like that. I’m calling him to let him know.’

‘Please don’t, Nina,’ I begged. It was humiliating enough showing up on a recommendation and then being rejected, let alone having someone standing up for me like that.

Faith put her hand on mine. ‘It’s not just for you, Sophie,’ she said. ‘Patsy’s had it coming for ages and I think it’s only right that she be called out. Piers will not be happy when he finds out. She had no right to do that.’

I was suddenly getting very tired of all this.

When they left, I kicked off my shoes and slid onto the settee in one smooth move. Here I would stay for the entire weekend. No strangers, no walks, no novelty of any kind. I was done with trying, at least for today.

I settled down to watch some old reruns of Dr Who on an old telly Noah had found, the ones with David Tennant.

I loved that man. He was so talented yet so humble.

A bit like Dr A. I wondered how he and his patients were doing.

When I got over feeling sorry for myself, I’d peel myself of the settee and pay a visit to the clinic.

Some of the women were very elderly and didn’t get around all that easily, and it seemed like they’d enjoyed having a friendly face to chat with.

I’d bake a few biscuits and maybe take them over there to keep them company.

*

The next morning, I got a call from Nina. I smiled, wondering whether she was still on the war path and loving her for it. They were all great girls, every single one of them, and I was lucky to have met them.

‘So, I’ve got some news,’ she said. ‘Piers had been called away on an emergency and is livid that you were treated that way. He sends his sincerest apologies. He would like to get you in for an informal chat, whenever you want.’

‘What?’ If he’d been that livid, why hadn’t he called me himself? You don’t apologise through other people. What was it with this bloke, and why did everyone think so highly of him?

‘He says to email him with a time and he’ll have his chauffeur come and pick you up.’

‘I… thank you, Nina. This whole thing sounds so weird.’

‘Piers will be blessed to have you instead of that Patsy.’

Great. Just what I needed in this minuscule, idyllic village. A brand-new enemy. But I did need a job, and badly too. ‘Thank you, Nina. I’ll email him tonight.’

‘Good. Do you need anything? Jack is on his way into town.’

‘I’m fine, thank you. I feel so lucky to have you all on my side.’

‘It’s nothing, Sophie, seriously. Now draw yourself a hot bath and get some sleep.’

‘I will. Thanks again.’

The least I could do was appreciate her gesture of friendship and make good on it. So I emailed Mr Henshaw, who wrote back immediately:

Dear Ms Graham,

Delighted to put this unfortunate incident behind us.

Please accept my sincerest apologies and my chauffer’s assistance in escorting you to the premises on Monday morning.

Sincerely,

Piers Henshaw