reason for heading back to Wynmouth, but I still didn’t think it would hurt to take a little bit longer before settling down to do it.
‘I might head back to the cottage for a nap,’ I said, feeling every bit as lazy as I no doubt sounded, ‘or I might have a wander further along the coast. I’m not sure yet.’
‘Depending on the tide, you might enjoy a spot of rock pooling while the sun’s still out,’ Sam suggested.
I was very much looking forward to revisiting the pools, not that Sam knew I had explored them before, but I wanted to save them until the moment felt right. They had always been such a highlight and that was exactly how I wanted to keep them.
‘And further along, just over the nearest groyne, there are some beach huts,’ he continued.
‘I noticed those this morning,’ I swallowed, ‘when I was walking on the beach.’
‘They’re always a popular spot,’ he went on, lowering his voice a little, ‘for one reason or another.’
I looked up and our eyes met for the briefest of seconds. I felt my breath catch in my throat as his gaze flicked to my lips and back up again. Was it possible that he knew? No, it was just my imagination. It had to be.
‘Occasionally, there’ll be one available to rent,’ he carried on sounding perfectly normal again. He reached for a cloth and began wiping down the already flawless bar. ‘So, keep an eye out for any signs hung on the doors, if you fancy it, that is.’
‘I will,’ I said huskily.
‘And then of course there’s Sophie’s café back the other way,’ he reminded me. ‘Visitors are always welcome there.’
‘It seems to me that visitors are welcome everywhere in Wynmouth,’ I pointed out.
‘More or less,’ Sam laughed but then his brow creased, ‘although unfortunately, there never seems to be quite enough of them these days.’
I looked around again, there were still only a very few customers.
‘But surely it will be busier next week,’ I pointed out, ‘what with the bank holiday weekend at the end of it.’ Sam didn’t look convinced. ‘And aren’t the schools on half-term too? I bet you and the other local businesses have loads planned to keep the tills ringing then.’
If they hadn’t, then they should have. In a village like Wynmouth, May bank holiday weekend should have marked the start of the summer season, but that was my marketing head talking and I wasn’t supposed to be using that.
‘What have you got planned for the pub?’ I couldn’t resist asking nonetheless.
Sam bit his lip but didn’t answer.
‘Don’t tell me, you haven’t organized anything at all, not even for the weekend?’
‘Not yet,’ he said, avoiding eye contact by focusing on folding the cloth into a neat square, ‘but it’s all in hand.’ He added, nodding at a notebook which looked as though it had a few scribbles in it.
It didn’t look much like a properly thought out promotional strategy to me, but I did have one suggestion that could swell his coffers a little.
‘Well, as we’re on the topic of increasing revenue,’ I carried on, trying to smile winningly, ‘I was wondering—’
‘Were we talking about that?’ he cut in.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘sort of.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I was wondering,’ I said again, ‘if there might be a possibility of you letting me stay on in the cottage for longer than two weeks, should I decide I want to.’
It was a reckless suggestion, given that I’d only stayed for one night so far, but I wanted to know if it might be a possibility. I was the most organized, disciplined and scheduled person I knew (if you discounted my father and at that moment I did), and it was going to take me some time to shake off the shackles and chill out.
I had some potentially life-changing decisions to make, as well as Mum’s diary to read and come to terms with, and the two-week timebomb ticking in my ears wasn’t the sort of pressure I needed on this occasion. As a rule, it would have been ideal, but this trip to Wynmouth was all about breaking the rules.
‘Well,’ said Sam, as he rubbed his hand around the back of his neck, ‘I’m really not sure about that.’
‘In your email,’ I hastily reminded him, ‘you told me that you were taking the place off the holiday market, didn’t you? Madness really, as you’re heading into the summer season . . .’