Page 16

Yes, I texted regularly, but it had to be a year since we last had a good catch-up.

Every time I planned to do something with her, luck would have it that Paul needed me for an event or help with a deadline.

But I did know what was going on in Annabelle’s life.

We wrote to each other the old-fashioned way.

It all began after a school project when she had to write a letter and I was the lucky one.

I replied, and the exchange continued, so I knew all about her love of horses and dogs, and her biggest disappointment.

She was not allowed a puppy because Gareth was allergic.

But I hadn’t had a letter in a while. Maybe Annabelle had grown too big to write to her godmother.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the joy on Tash’s face and knew that I hadn’t had that feeling in a very long time. What was joy? The answer might just be singing badly at the top of your lungs to a banging tune.

‘I love that song,’ she said when it ended. ‘Do you remember when we both had the hots for Tommy Gooden and made a deal that neither of us could have him because it would break us apart? And then we had to watch him go off with Amy Sale.’

‘It was awful. It would have been easier if it had been you, then at least I would have known all the details.’

‘I would have embellished them for you.’ She grinned.

‘You’re good like that.’

Tash pretended to shine her halo. ‘I know.’

I pulled into the drive of Harbour House. Bastard was waiting.

Tash looked at my phone as another message flashed up on the screen. ‘Does he always text like that?’

I squinted at it.

Come back now. I miss you. I’m lost without you.

It pinged again.

Love you.

Tash raised her eyebrows.

There was no point in defending Paul to her.

She didn’t like him and nothing I said would change that.

Plus I had so much to do. This was all a lot harder than I’d thought.

Nothing was straightforward and I needed to talk to Tash’s dad.

I’d found a lasting power of attorney for Mum in the paperwork that had been in a file on the top of Dad’s desk.

This puzzled me because she was only in her late fifties but they must have done it after her stroke.

Tash was already out of the car and heading to the house. The air smelled of low tide, and gulls screeched overhead. From her perch on the windowsill, Bastard looked up at the birds before turning her gaze on us.

‘Whose cat?’ Tash asked.

‘Bastard belongs to the house these days.’

‘Bastard? That’s a bit cruel. Did he scratch you?’

I laughed. ‘That’s her name.’

‘Good God, how glorious.’ Tash bent and said, ‘Hello, Bastard.’

The cat didn’t budge until I reached the door. Then she jumped down and brushed up against my legs while I let us all in.

‘Right, Ren, what’s your plan?’ Tash stopped in her tracks in the hallway. ‘Holy Mother of God.’ She sounded just like her Irish gran. ‘Who is that siren?’

‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’ There was something about the woman in the painting that I still couldn’t pinpoint.

‘Stunning and so sexy.’

I sent her a look.

‘Seriously, whoever painted it was in love with her. Look at the brushwork.’

I studied it again. ‘It’s not signed on the front, so I have no idea who the artist is.’

‘Right, a mystery.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘Your father loved a mystery. Remember that time we helped him on a probate valuation and found the bronze cat?’

‘The cat that was too hot to touch by the electric heater.’

‘Bloody Tutankhamen’s cat.’ She laughed.

‘Yes, that did rather well.’ The story had even made the national papers, putting our little auction house on the map in a good way.

Now here I was doing it all again, but this time I was wiser and had no plans to make Barton’s my life.

No, my life was in London with Paul, researching for a TV programme.

That suited me just fine. We lived in Docklands in a beautiful new building, and I had a partner who loved me.

As if on cue, my phone pinged again.

‘Paul?’ Tash asked.

I pulled it out of my pocket to check, then slipped it back in. ‘Yup.’

‘Does this happen all the time? It’s so distracting. How can you think? Doesn’t he have anything else to do?’

‘Of course he does. He’s just worried about me at the moment.’

She cast me a sideways glance and I bent down to stroke Bastard, who complained that I hadn’t yet fed her.

Without responding to the unspoken questions rolling off Tash like a thick sea fret moving to shore, I went to the kitchen and refilled the food bowl I found there.

Bastard brushed against my leg on the way to her meal.

As Tash followed me into the kitchen, my phone went again.

I pulled it out and turned it to silent, which I didn’t often do now because of Mum.

If it kept pinging, Tash would press on with her questions and thoughts, and that was the last thing I wanted.

Paul’s texts were a bit excessive, but it was because he loved me, and that was good.

Even if he did interfere too much sometimes, like talking to Stephen.

Tonight I would make it clear that he couldn’t do that again.

‘OK boss, where do you want to start? The big painting?’

‘We’ll leave that until last. Let’s begin up in the bedrooms.’

‘Cup of tea first?’

Tash took off her backpack and pulled out a packet of biscuits and a box of Earl Grey tea bags.

A rush of memories and love for her almost overwhelmed me.

While studying for exams, we’d lived on digestives and tea.

Back then that was 90 per cent of our body composition.

With the remaining part being cider and Rich Tea biscuits.

God, those days felt so close right at this moment.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

She looked over her shoulder from where she was filling the kettle, and stuck out her tongue.

‘I’ve missed you.’ I leaned against the counter, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and her friendship.

‘I know you have.’

‘Oi.’

‘I’ve missed you too. It felt like my left leg was missing.’ She jiggled it about.

I swallowed. The truth was, I felt the same, I’d become accustomed to being one-legged, but now to have both somehow felt even worse.

She opened her arms and I fell into them. Tears began to fall, and before long her shoulder was damp. When I finally pulled away, it was to locate some kitchen roll to blow my nose.

‘Sorry,’ I said once I’d dried my face.

‘No need to apologise for crying. You’ve lost your father, your mother isn’t coping and needs help, and your partner isn’t here to support you. You have every reason to cry and cry and cry.’

I shook my head, because I had no right to tears or self-pity. I had so many things that others didn’t, and I needed to pull myself together for my mother. Paul needed me too, I reminded myself as my phone vibrated in my back pocket.

‘You know, turning it to silent won’t stop his texts. Only he can do that, and you need to tell him to stop.’

I shook my head.

‘If he misses you that much, he could get his ass down here. It’s not term time, for Christ’s sake.’

I glanced out at the harbour. The sky was blue as only a Cornish sky could be. Not a cloud to be seen. The sea was calm, and it felt more like summer than summer often did. ‘He has things he has to do.’

‘What’s more important than supporting his partner after the loss of her father?’

‘Research and a deadline.’ I looked away from her to an abstract landscape on the wall. It was one of Sheba’s. There was so much honesty in it, from the undulations of the greens to the burst of raw umber.

‘Ha, that’s only because you’re not doing it for him.’

I looked down. Tash had been my flatmate in London when I’d started dating Paul, and I couldn’t deny what she had seen. She also hadn’t approved because he was an associate professor in the art history department. In her words, he was too old for me and shouldn’t be shagging a student.

‘It’s different now.’

‘What, now that he’s a full professor and can ask some poor PhD student to do his research for him?’

I took a step back. She had never made her dislike of Paul so obvious.

I knew he wasn’t her idea of heaven, but after Tommy, we had never liked the same boy again.

She had gone the rugby player route, while I went for the artistic, academic types.

She’d said they all needed a good meal and a walk in the park to get some colour in their cheeks and meat on their bones.

We’d argued over Paul almost from the first moment, and it was a relief when he asked me to move in with him.

Meanwhile, Tash had met Gareth Lugg, a rugby-playing medical resident, while taking Scottish dancing lessons in preparation for the ceilidh at our friend Sue’s wedding.

It had been love at first twirl for her.

And I’d been so relieved that she’d found love again after losing Mark three years before.

Knowing we had a lot to do, I climbed the back stairs from the kitchen to the bedrooms. Bastard sat in the middle of the landing watching as Tash joined me.

An awkward silence stretched between us.

She knew Paul was everything I wanted – clever, funny, good-looking and totally into me – so I wasn’t sure what the problem was.

Yes, he was intense and wanted all of me, but that was good.

Maybe during the course of this week I could win her over.

‘OK, let’s start with the single bedroom.’ I entered the room and immediately went to open the window. This house cried out to be lived in, and without fresh air it was musty.

‘What a gorgeous bed.’ Tash ran her hands over the headboard. It was French at a guess, and it would be perfect for a child, especially if freshly painted.

Using my phone to take measurements, I added the item to the spreadsheet I’d made last night on my tablet. Covering the bed was a crocheted white cotton bedspread that was a work of art.