The Secret Seaside Escape - Heidi Swain Page 0,108
Joe.’
*
Hope headed back to the café, having reluctantly agreed not to say anything to Sam, and I went back to the cottage. I knew that time was of the essence and wanted to get to Home Farm and talk to the Upton brothers before she had a change of heart. Hope was the sort of woman who wore her heart on her sleeve and I knew it wouldn’t take much prompting if someone picked up on her preoccupied mood for her to tell all.
It hadn’t entered my head before but having always worked the farm I now considered that Charlie might not be in favour of selling it and, if Joe’s deal hadn’t progressed too far, then we might be able to persuade him to change his mind. Surely, while Charlie was the manager, Joe couldn’t just sell it all out from under him?
Unfortunately, my plan fell at the first hurdle, as I discovered a note from Joe on the cottage doormat, explaining that he was leaving again. Only temporarily, but most likely long enough to unsettle Hope and have her telling everyone what he had in the pipeline. I supposed I could drive out and talk to Charlie on his own, but it wasn’t an ideal compromise.
I sat on the sofa, with my head in my hands, wishing I’d stuck to sorting out my own dramas rather than getting drawn into everyone else’s and wondering what on earth I was going to do. Why hadn’t I stuck to being a holidaymaker, someone keen to unwind and de-stress, rather than turning into someone intent on becoming embroiled in the minutiae of local Wynmouth life?
Just as I was set to sink even deeper into the murky depths of the ‘one is fun’ pity party of my own making, a heavy knock at the door pulled me back into the cottage.
‘This was delivered to the pub earlier,’ said Sam gruffly, handing over a package and walking in. ‘You weren’t in and it had to be signed for.’
‘Come in, why don’t you?’ I frowned, wondering what on earth it could be. Certainly not the phone I had ordered because that would have been super-fast, even for express delivery. ‘Thanks.’
‘But never mind that,’ he said, pulling it out of my hands and dumping it on the sofa.
‘Hey,’ I objected.
‘You can look at it later,’ he said dismissively, ‘right now I’m more concerned about what you saw and heard at Home Farm.’
‘What?’
Surely Hope couldn’t have cracked already.
‘I’ve had Hope in tears at the pub.’
Or perhaps she had.
‘I thought the two of you weren’t talking,’ I tersely reminded him.
‘We weren’t,’ he said. ‘We are now.’
As loath as I was to offload, I couldn’t help thinking that if I didn’t fill Sam in then he was likely to go out to Home Farm and tackle Charlie himself and that was the last thing I wanted.
‘Thanks for that,’ he said, once I had finished explaining what I had discovered.
His expression was unfathomable, but I had the feeling that Joe’s Sunny Shores project wasn’t going to be under wraps for much longer.
‘I’ll see myself out,’ said Sam.
I didn’t dare ask what he intended to do with the information I had supplied him with and, as the door shut behind him, I turned my attention back to the package. I could hardly believe my eyes and took a moment to let my galloping heart settle before looking at it again. My eyes weren’t deceiving me, the label was definitely written in my father’s hand.
*
My initial reaction to the missive had been to throw it in the wood burner – had it been lit – but then I was seized with a desire to open it and find out my fate. Was it a heartfelt plea for my return to the fold, or a court summons demanding I appeared and explained the reasons behind my desertion from the family firm?
Befuddled and dazed, I didn’t know what to do with it so, unopened, I set it aside. I had no idea how my father had tracked me down, but I knew I couldn’t stay in Wynmouth now. I felt truly sorry to be leaving so many loose ends in my wake, but the shocking sight of Dad’s handwriting was enough to tell me that I still wasn’t ready to face up to everything and therefore I had to go. If he’d put a package in the post, he could just as easily turn up on the doorstep and that was the last