Page 17 of The Little Cottage by the Cornish Sea

I laid out the cream cashmere dress on my bed next to the file containing my resume. I’d chosen to leave the references as ‘available upon request’, as I still hadn’t quite figured out what to do about them. But I’d cross that bridge when I got to it – I needed to get my foot in the door first.

Eating breakfast was absolutely out of the question, just as coffee was, so after a few hours of nail-biting and rehearsing my possible interview questions, I decided I was ready.

‘You can do this,’ I said to the nervous wreck in the mirror. ‘Just get over there and stupefy him with your experience and skills.’ After all, this was for Baby. And a future without Will. Without fear.

‘Thank you.’

I followed him down a long corridor full of portraits where ancient, pasty faces in wigs and people on horses smirked.

Generations and generations of filthy rich people stared down their aristocratic noses at me like I was a useless waste of space until we reached a set of double doors at the end.

The sheer scale of the place was intimidating, not to mention the luxury of it.

Justin gave a curt double rap and when a deep voice answered, he opened the doors and I was ushered into what seemed like the private offices of The Boss, and I didn’t mean Bruce Springsteen.

‘Please come in, Miss Graham,’ the voice said and I stopped in my tracks.

If I was expecting a rich farmer with a flat cap and a pipe, I’d been dead wrong.

Mr Piers Henshaw of Rosestones Manor was anything but a country squire.

In fact, he was the horrible man with the cutest dog on earth, a.k.a Rude Bloke.

Who apparently didn’t even recognise me, or was choosing not to acknowledge all the times he'd been an arse to me.

Wearing a pair of jeans and a navy-blue jumper, he stood and offered me his hand with a kind smile.

A kind smile? The gall of the bloke! Did he think that I was blind or that I had lost my memory?

Was this how he wanted to play it: by pretending he had never seen me before?

But I’d sussed him out, all right. And I knew what an arse he was.

And yet, I needed this job like I needed my next breath.

And if I could pretend to be someone else for my own personal purpose, then I could also pretend I didn’t recognise him either.

My finances, and thus my future, depended on it.

And as he was being kind and welcoming, I had to assume he was going to give me a chance.

He was taller than I’d remembered. Without the beard, the beanie and the shades, his face was lean and dark, with exotic eyes that studied me warily.

Had he been spying on me? Of course not , I scolded myself.

Was I paranoid or what? Why would a billionaire spy on someone as inconsequential as I was?

There was no chance on earth he knew who I was.

All in all, he looked like a no-nonsense bloke.

And yet, there was no mistaking, under that polite facade, the fact that he had an opinion on me and, just like Patsy, I could tell that it wasn’t a good one.

‘Please come in. I thought we could have an informal breakfast together in the orangery, if that sounds okay?’ he enquired, politely enough.

Orangery? Pulling out all the stops. ‘Ah, thank you, that’s very kind of you.’

Mr Henshaw gestured for me to follow him and we passed several open doors onto magnificent salons, drawing rooms, lounges and even a library.

All had crystal chandeliers and exquisite antique furniture.

Slack-jawed, I took it all in. There was a serious amount of history here and I couldn’t wait to learn about it. If I got hired, that was.

At the end of the corridor, we emerged into a bright room with huge potted plants that basked in the light that streamed in through the glass roof and enormous windows. This place looked like something you’d find in a corner of Kew Gardens.

Mr Henshaw gestured to the large glass table that occupied the centre of the room. ‘Please sit, Miss Graham.’

I took a seat and trained my eyes on him, trying to look serene. He studied me in turn and finally smiled, shaking his head. ‘I can’t apologise enough for what happened. I had no idea you hadn’t been informed I couldn’t make it. Please, can we start all over again?’

His smile was now genuine and far from the condescending one I’d expected.

I could have mentioned the elephant in the room, that he had been absolutely hideous to me on several occasions, and why would I want to work for such a heel?

But I needed this job, so I kept my mouth shut.

If he had decided to pretend he’d forgotten our not so cute meet-cutes, what was the point in reminding him that I’d told him off at the grocery shop?

‘Of course, Mr Henshaw.’

‘Piers.’

I bit my lip.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea about this place.

This is a serene work environment. All my employees are nice people – you’ll have to forgive Patsy’s behaviour the other day as well.

I have farmers; some take care of the livestock while others grow the vegetables.

Others make the preserves that do very well in the open market.

We are also a dairy and we make yoghurt, ice cream and Yarg, our Cornish cheese.

As you can imagine, we are thriving, but I need someone trusted to coordinate all operations as I have suppliers and clients who all need attending to. That’s the gist of it.’

‘And what is your role? I mean, are you involved in the daily workings of the business or do you just let others—?’ I asked before I could stop myself.

He looked at me in surprise and then grinned.

‘You know, Ms Graham, I’m still trying to figure that one out.

But in the meantime, Nina and the girls have told me that you’re super-organised and trustworthy.

That’s pretty much all I need on a daily basis.

No protecting me from bad news. You give it to me straight every single day. Okay?’

Of course. I was done lying and pretending everything was all right when it most definitely wasn’t. So when Mr Henshaw asked me if there was anything he should know about me, I was going to be as honest as I could be without giving myself away entirely.

The arrival of two breakfast trays on a cart could have been the moment to be distracted and not tell the truth.

But I soldiered on as Justin proceeded to dish up succulent sausages and bacon and pretty little omelettes and croissants and buttered toast, along with a pot of steaming coffee, the smell of which brought me to my knees.

‘Thanks, Justin,’ Mr Henshaw said as Justin withdrew the cart. ‘This looks good! I hope you’re hungry.’

‘Yes,’ I managed, wondering whether I was going to have morning sickness.

I’d read that it was supposed to ease off by this point in my pregnancy, but combined with the stress and anxiety I’d been experiencing about interview, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it made a reappearance.

That would have been a real treat, for me to heave up last night’s dinner on today’s breakfast table.

But luckily, I managed to keep things under control and actually began to feel quite peckish.

After all, I had been up since five and it was now ten past ten.

‘And speaking of being totally honest, Mr Henshaw – Piers – I must tell you. I am pregnant, so I don’t know how long—’

‘That’s not a problem,’ he said as he dug into his omelette. ‘I won’t be needing you indefinitely.’

Well, at least he was upfront, too. ‘Oh. Okay. I just wanted to be honest with you.’

‘Thanks, much appreciated. Is honesty one of your best qualities?’ he asked.

‘I try…’

‘And what about discretion? You come highly recommended, but I need to make sure.’

‘In the sense of can I mind my own business and keep a confidence? Absolutely. I’m great at keeping secrets.’ If only he knew.

When his left eyebrow went up, I rushed to make amends, but his upper lip had followed the rest of his face into a smile.

‘That’s good to hear. Not that I have any that would interest anyone.

But I like my employees to be discreet. I don’t want other people to know what I eat for breakfast or what I read in bed. ’

As if I would be allowed anywhere near his private quarters. But still. ‘You can count on me, Mr Henshaw. Piers.’

For a while, we ate in silence. He seemed to be deep in thought, and I didn’t want to interrupt and potentially say something that could ruin my chances.

After what felt like zn eternity, Piers put his cutlery down. ‘Okay, then. Welcome to the club. You’re hired.’

‘I am?’ I couldn’t believe my ears. I had a job!

‘You start at 9 a.m., Monday through Friday. Lunch is at one, but as you only work mornings you can leave then if you like. You can have as many coffees or snacks as you like. Just ring Justin if you need anything. Mi kitchen es su kitchen.’

I felt a huge pang of regret for lying to him when he was being so kind. No one wanted to hire someone who was wanted by the police. But I had no other choice. ‘Thank you. I won’t disappoint you.’

‘No, I hope not,’ was all he said. ‘If you’re finished, let me show you around.’

The word ‘around’ had been aptly used, as it seemed that we were going around in circles as he led me down wide corridors, up and down majestic marble staircases, past round rooms that appeared to be the inside of the turrets.

I had kept up with the geography of the manor up until a few staircases ago, but now I was completely lost.

‘And this is the parlour, where we have our gatherings,’ he said.

On the threshold, I stopped with a gasp. A luxurious grand piano commanded the room, so black and shiny it reflected all the light. I made a step toward it as if approaching a glowing spaceship.

‘Oh my God! Is that… a Steinway ?’ my voice came out a whisper.

Piers looked up, hands in his pockets. ‘Huh? Oh, that. Dunno, it was here when I bought the house.’

‘Do you play?’

‘Me? Nah. You?’

I nodded, feeling the joy splashing my insides. ‘I studied at the Conservatory.’

‘Wow. So what are you doing being a PA then?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Lack of confidence, maybe. I haven’t played in years. Except for when I teach my students, but not in front of anyone else.’

At that, his face lit up. ‘Well. Maybe you can come in here and play sometime and I’ll sneak in and listen to you.’

I was caught off guard and couldn’t think of anything to say back.

He smiled. ‘Come. There are a few rooms that are non-entry. Can you respect that?’

Not exactly the way I’d have phrased that question. ‘Yes, certainly.’

‘Good. You will be asked to keep anything you may learn about me strictly confidential.’

Now he was beginning to sound like a gangster. It was a good thing that the girls had vouched for him, otherwise with all this secrecy, I’d have been out of there like a shot.

As if I was one to talk.

‘No worries, it’s all above board, Sophie,’ he said as if he’d read my mind. ‘Nothing illegal. I’m just a farmer. But you must understand that I value my privacy very much, and that my business depends on it. Do you understand that? Can you respect that?’

Again with the respect. ‘I can assure you that I am 100 percent trustworthy.’

‘Yes, the girls said so. They think the world of you. And I need someone like you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Can you start today? I’ll show you the ropes.’

As he walked on, I tried to size him up.

He seemed kind enough, likeable enough. But beyond that, I couldn’t glean anything else besides the fact that he was wild about his privacy.

Did he have business enemies? Was he working on a new, secret ice-cream flavour and was afraid of industrial espionage?

I had no idea, but as long as it was above board and paid well, I was in.

The girls would have never suggested this job to me if it was shady.

So I spent the rest of the morning going over my new routine in what was to be my office, a room that backed onto a secluded garden in the rear.

It had a large desk and a beautiful, blue velvet sofa, and armchairs with gold-coloured threading that reminded me of Morocco.

Hanging on the walls were antique prints and photos of actual Middle-Eastern landscapes, deserts and sand dunes, images that collided with the luscious English garden outside the enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows.

And yet, it all came together very tastefully.

There was a coffee table and a table in the corner by the window, presumably where the previous PA, Patsy, used to eat.

Unless, hearing what the girls had said, she preferred to lunch with the boss?

‘You can move the furniture around so it’s comfortable for you. No one else will be working in here but you. I’ll pop in from time to time.’

To see if I was earning my keep. Fair enough. ‘It’s perfect,’ I said in earnest. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you ,’ he corrected me. ‘I’m so glad to have someone I can count on.

’ Meaning that he hadn’t been able to count on Patsy?

Probably now, if the way she had treated me was anything to go on.

I decided that it was none of my business: one of the reasons I was being hired was my discretion, which suited me fine.

I wasn’t interested in anyone’s business but my own.

‘And by the way, Sophie? I apologise for being an absolute jerk with you on several occasions when you first arrived in Starry Cove.’

What? So he had recognised me after all…

‘I thought you were just passing through. But now that I know you’re going to be part of the community, I have to come clean and tell you that I only did it to protect my privacy.’

‘No worries, I understand,’ I assured him. And I did. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to go about protecting himself, but after today I couldn’t help but warm to him, and if he valued his privacy half as much as I did, we’d get along splendidly.

He studied me. ‘The girls were right. You can keep a secret.’

Better than he would ever know.