Cressida McLaughlin - The Once in a Blue Moon Guesthouse - The perfect feelgood romance

‘Where’s Will?’ she asked. ‘Where’s your master?’

‘Master? I like the sound of that.’ She heard him before she saw him, his boots heavy on the stairs, and when he appeared in the dim light of the hall he was drying his hands on a piece of old sheet. Robin could see that he was soaked again, and also filthy, with dark streaks on his T-shirt and black smudges across his forehead and cheeks.

‘I brought you tea,’ she said, pointing at the mug but refusing to release her grip on Darcy. ‘What happened? Did you find the leak, or have you been investigating the chimney?’

He ignored her last remark. ‘I’ve found one of them. The roof is in serious need of repair, but I think the plumbing’s shot too. I doubt if Tabitha had any maintenance work done here in the last five, or even ten years. This place is a mess.’

Robin nodded slowly, glancing around. ‘How do you know that?’

Will frowned, crouched in front of her and picked up his tea, nodding his gratitude as he sipped it. ‘Thank you for this. What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ she said, ‘how do you know it’s a mess when everywhere’s so dark? It’s like a classic haunted house.’ She winced when she realized what she’d said. ‘Sorry, that was insensitive.’

Will shook his head. ‘I get your point, but I blew the fuses when I tried to turn on the light last night, and one of them needs replacing before I can get the electricity working.’

‘So why not use that most exciting and recent of inventions?’ Robin let go of Darcy, stood and moved towards the room on the right of the hallway, but tripped on something she couldn’t see and bashed her shoulder against the wall.

‘What’s that?’ Will asked, following her. He touched her arm gently, whether to get her attention or steady her, Robin wasn’t sure.

Undeterred, Robin found the edge of the curtain and pulled it dramatically backwards. ‘Sunlight,’ she announced, the word becoming a splutter as the movement released at least a year’s worth of dust into the air. She turned away, coughing into her hands.

‘Great reveal,’ Will said, deadpan. ‘Go as well as you’d planned?’ His cough was deep but efficient, and Robin thought he was probably used to clearing his throat in rooms full of dust.

She tried to give him a withering look, but her eyes were streaming. She blinked just in time to see Will’s jaw tighten, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the room.

Robin did the same.

It was Tabitha’s living room. The solid, green, William Morris-patterned sofas facing each other, the lace runners along the backs discoloured an unappealing yellow, the cherry wood coffee table matching the dresser on which were a number of small china sheep. The rest of the collection, she knew, were in glass cabinets in the dining room on the opposite side of the hall. Robin had played cards in here, eating Tabitha’s homemade scones thick with unsalted butter. Gin Rummy, Snap, sometimes dominoes. Even Tim, she remembered, liked coming round to see Tabitha, and they’d often stayed until they were called back next door for dinner.

Why hadn’t she kept in touch with her properly? Robin felt a surge of anger at herself. The older woman had been so much a part of her childhood, but had quickly become out of sight and out of mind once she’d moved to London, rarely seeing her on her return visits to Campion Bay. Either she’d been too caught up with Tim, or – after they’d broken up – the fledgling business she was starting with Neve. Planning, researching locations and luxuries, her head in London even if, physically, she was spending a weekend in her parents’ company. Time had passed almost without her noticing, a part of her thinking that Tabitha would always be here. But of course that wasn’t true, and now it was too late.

She pushed the anger aside. Tabitha hadn’t been her relative; this must be so much harder for Will, and he hadn’t moved a muscle.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Yeah, of course. It’s just strange, seeing it now, like this.’

‘When was the last time you saw her?’ Robin asked, running her fingers along the back of a sofa.

‘About six months before she died. And I didn’t even know she was ill. I couldn’t get down as often as I wanted to – I didn’t come as often as I could have. And I should have …’ He shook his head, hands on his waist as he looked around the room. The bedraggled sheet was sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans, looking like a ridiculous tail.

‘Should have what?’

‘I should have come here before now. It wouldn’t have seemed so …’

‘Intimidating? Difficult? Monumental?’

He flashed her a look that could have been irritation, but it disappeared in a smile of resignation. ‘Impossible. It’s going to take months to get anywhere.’

‘So you will have to look for work round here?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve got some money set aside, but it looks like I’ll need to supplement it. I can turn my hand to whatever’s needed – odd jobs, estate management – and tourist season on the south coast should throw up some possibilities. Once I get the electricity sorted out, clear a small patch of calm in amongst all this, I can start looking at job sites.’

‘You can do that next door,’ Robin said. ‘You’ve got Starcross, or Sea Shanty, the room downstairs. Guests will come and go, and I’ll be there a lot of the time, but it shouldn’t be too distracting. I can see you wouldn’t want to spend every day working on this – it’ll be draining.’

Will nodded, his eyes narrowed as he looked over his aunt’s belongings. ‘Thank you.’

Robin bit her lip. ‘And I could … I could help you, here. Sometimes.’

Was she really offering this? She’d just opened up a new guesthouse, and should be spending all her time and energy getting comfortable with the routine. But, perhaps because she didn’t have the same weight of responsibility as Will had, because Tabitha had been a neighbour and not a relative, a happy part of her childhood, she saw the task as intriguing, a treasure-trove of the past to investigate. Something Will might relish in his usual line of work, but which he was too close to see without feelings crowding in on top of him. There were bound to be spiders and grime and mess, but Robin wasn’t bothered by any of that. Molly would probably be more upset because Robin would have to delay her manicure.

Will turned to face her, his arms dropping to his sides. ‘I can’t ask you to help me.’

‘You’re not asking, I’m offering.’

He took a step towards her. ‘I could just sell it, leave it to whoever buys it to sort out. If a developer was interested, then none of this would matter.’

Robin pictured Tim rubbing his hands with glee, his blue eyes alight at the prospect. ‘But would that be doing justice to your aunt? Leaving everything like this, not going through it? It’s not going to be easy, but maybe if it’s not just you and Darcy, then it will seem more manageable.’

They both watched as the dog explored the room, her short tail sticking up excitedly, wagging as she delved into the darkest corners.