that he wanted payment for the picture. Jake had teased him a bit, the prat. Poppy had wished him a happy sail and congratulated him on his engagement. Her words were etched on his mind forever, along with the events that had followed.
Poppy had assumed, as any polite and generous person might, that he and Harriet were living in a state of pre-marital bliss.
It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Everyone on St Piran’s had thought the same as Poppy, and why wouldn’t they? He and Harriet had put on a great show of hiding the darker undercurrents of their relationship. Even his grandpa and Fen hadn’t guessed the real truth.
The short break on St Piran’s was meant to be a last-ditch chance to try and save their relationship. They’d both said and done some deeply hurtful things in the weeks leading up to that last trip, but they’d both agreed to try one last time to work things out.
They’d never had the chance, and no one but himself would ever know what had really happened in those fatal few minutes before Harriet had lost her life.
Once Jake was out of hearing of the studio, he called the local ‘jack of all trades’ to fix the bed, then popped in to see Fen, to reassure her that the new tenant had arrived and to explain that she was on her own and he was helping her settle in.
‘Poor girl,’ said Fen. ‘Do you think I should go over and see how she is?’
‘Why not let her settle in for this evening?’ said Jake, suspecting Poppy might need a rest and some time to wallow in misery before she dusted herself off and came over to the cottage – if she came over. He didn’t mention the non-delivery of her stuff, or the collapsing bed or Fen would have been round the studio in a flash, fussing over Poppy and fretting over the state of the flat and studio. ‘I think she’s shattered after the journey and she hinted she wanted to get an early night.’
‘If you think she’s OK … How did she react when she saw the accommodation?’
‘Fine. She seems to be made of strong stuff to me. Why not pop over in the morning after she’s had a good night’s sleep?’
‘You’re probably right. Thanks for showing her round. I couldn’t have stood it if she’d taken one step inside and burst into tears.’
‘Like I said, she seems to know exactly what she’s doing,’ Jake fibbed, pecking Fen on the cheek by way of goodbye. ‘So, don’t worry.’
Making his excuses, he strode off to Archie’s cottage, calling his grandpa on the way to reassure him that Poppy had arrived and all was well. Archie made no mention of the crate of paintings addressed to Jake, so he decided not to let on he’d seen it.
Back at the cottage, he went straight upstairs to the spare room where he was sleeping. He had to edge round the crate in order to reach the airing cupboard. Grandpa Archie didn’t have much need for spare linen, but there was a faded but clean set on the shelf. He put the cover on the hardly used duvet from his bed and borrowed his grandad’s duvet for his own bed.
For a few mad seconds, he’d debated about offering the spare bed in the cottage to Poppy while he slept in Archie’s room, but dismissed the idea straightaway. There was no way he could make an offer like that without it seeming like he was coming on to her – and he assumed the last thing she wanted was any man within fifty feet of her, if, as he guessed, Dan had dumped her.
He found an old-fashioned bar of soap and a towel and smiled as he made up the ‘emergency kit’ for Poppy, thinking it was a shame there was nothing he could do about her missing knickers. As a final thought, he went to fetch a clean T-shirt from his overnight bag to add to the kit. She could use it as pyjamas or wear it tomorrow as she saw fit.
After today, he decided to keep his distance unless she asked for him. She certainly didn’t need a bloke hanging about, let alone one who’d shown her an ailing business and a shabby flat with collapsing furniture. While he’d been embarrassed to show her around the Starfish, he hadn’t been embarrassed by the sadness she was obviously trying to hide. The loss of Harriet, though horrendous, had made him far more compassionate towards other people’s emotions. He admired Poppy for sticking to her guns and deciding to pursue her plans without her partner. That took a lot of guts.
When he came back into the cottage sitting room with the T-shirt, Leo was lounging on the bundle of bedding, washing his paws.
‘Oi, Leo. Get off!’
Leo flexed his claws as if he was admiring his manicure.
Jake clapped his hands loudly, hoping Leo would shift without him having to intervene. ‘Poppy might be allergic to cats and she won’t want her sheets covered in fur. She’s had enough trauma today without you adding to it,’ he said before realising that he was actually trying to debate with a cat.
Ignoring him, Leo lifted his hind leg and decided to give himself a more thorough bath.
‘Urgh. Do you mind doing that in the privacy of your own home? Or Fen’s? Come on, shoo.’ He dashed forward, ready to scoop Leo off the bedding, but the cat dropped deftly to his paws before Jake reached him and strolled off towards the open door, tail in the air.
After Leo’s departure, Jake realised that Poppy might need a toothbrush, so he went back up to his room and dug out an unused travel toothbrush and toothpaste from the bottom of his washbag. Before he left the room, he couldn’t help glancing at the crate again. It was like Pandora’s box: begging to be opened so he could discover its secrets. Yet if he opened it, would he regret what he’d unleashed?
A warm and furry presence wound its way around Poppy’s legs as she stood in the doorway to Jake’s – or rather Archie’s – cottage.
‘Oh! What a gorgeous cat! He’s huge. Is he yours?’ She rubbed the top of Leo’s head, feeling the thick fur between his ears.
‘No, he belongs to Fen and Archie. Or rather they belong to him,’ said Jake, eyeing Leo warily. ‘He switches between their two cottages, depending on who has the tastiest morsels, I guess, but at the moment, he prefers Fen’s, obviously, because my grandpa’s away.’
Leo purred and let Poppy carry on stroking him.
‘Wow. You’re highly honoured. He won’t let me do that. We’re not the greatest of pals, though I’ve known him from a kitten, but I haven’t seen much of him lately. Fen adores him and my grandad even let him into the studio. I think he was a stray.’
‘Well, he’s adorable. He must be the biggest cat I’ve ever seen.’
‘Hmm. Personally, I think he’s half sabre-toothed tiger. His teeth and claws are sharp enough. Come in.’
Once inside, Poppy homed in on a plate of mashed potato and prawns on the coffee table. Tempting aromas wafted under her nose and her stomach rumbled. She was reminded that she hadn’t eaten since her tea shop lunch.
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