Second Chance Summer, page 9
His brow creased in concern. ‘Are you cold? Shall I get a blanket? I could light the fire.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, hastily. ‘What about you?’
He shrugged. ‘Grazed in places but otherwise I’ve been lucky – apart from this scratch above my eye. It won’t stop bleeding. I’ve tried sticking a plaster on it but it didn’t work and fell off.’
‘I can see that.’ She grimaced at the oozing cut in his hairline. ‘Do you want me to take a look, pop a dressing on it?’
‘Um. Well …’
‘Otherwise, it will keep bleeding and make a mess in your lovely new reception area.’
‘So you do think it’s lovely, then?’
With an eye roll, she stood up. ‘That’s your first-aid kit on the bar?’
He put his mug down. ‘Yes. I’ll get it.’
‘Sam, would you do something for me?’
He raised an eyebrow and winced.
‘Stay there and let me deal with this?’
‘I’ll be as good as gold.’
He gazed up at her, a hint of mischief in his eyes that made her stomach flip. Now she’d offered to dress his wound, although it gave her something to focus on, it meant she’d have to touch his skin, the same skin she’d seen so much of when she’d walked into the bar.
She had, she’d admit, thought about his body quite a few times over the past twelve hours. And having seen it in all its strong, toned magnificence, wasn’t going to help her think about it any less.
Opening the lid of the kit, she tried to remember what the course had recommended for minor cuts. She picked out a cotton pad and a bottle.
‘Keep still,’ she instructed. ‘This might sting.’
She dabbed at the cut with the cotton pad soaked in alcohol.
‘Ouch,’ said Sam, with a grin.
Lily shook her head. ‘There’s no need to act all macho.’
‘Macho?’ he scoffed. ‘Me?’
Her cheeks warmed up. She put more alcohol on the pad and pressed it firmly to the graze.
He flinched. ‘Ow! That did hurt!’
Lily shrugged. ‘I’m no nurse, as you’ve probably worked out.’
‘And I’m no hotelier. You’ve probably worked that out too.’
‘Hmm …’
After cleaning the wound, she stuck a small sterile dressing over it. ‘That should stem the blood. I don’t think it needs stitches but, like I said, I’m not a medic.’
‘Thanks for the help and apologies for finding me – like you did – earlier.’
The ironic twist of his mouth made her stomach do a double back flip.
‘Given we both narrowly escaped death, seeing you without your shirt is probably the least of my worries,’ she said, trying to inject some humour into the situation.
Sam nodded. ‘Actually, I’d rushed out of the shower because I heard a radio message come through.’
Her pulse jumped for a different reason. She didn’t want news of the accident getting back to her family and Richie. ‘You didn’t tell anyone about this?’
‘No, because you asked me not to. It was the heliport calling about your flight out of here. They might have a space tomorrow.’
‘My flight …’ She’d forgotten about it. ‘Thank you.’
‘There’s a slim possibility you could leave on an earlier flight if someone can be persuaded to cancel. I won’t know until later or even first thing. I bet you can’t wait to get out of here as fast as you can now. I don’t blame you. This has been even more of a disaster than I’d imagined in even my worst nightmares.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. I was distracted by the view and not paying attention to the tide.’
‘I should have warned you about the tides. I should have given you a safety briefing or something. Or stayed with you.’
‘Sam – are you going to nursemaid all your guests, all the time? It’s not possible. The best you can do is issue a warning to them.’
‘So you won’t be suing me?’
She scratched her chin. ‘Well, I did consider it …’
His face fell so she rolled her eyes.
‘I’m joking! I don’t want any more drama. I don’t want anyone to know what happened. If my family found out, especially Étienne or my parents, they’d freak out.’
‘Étienne?’
‘My late sister’s husband. He’s a doctor and it was he who practically forced me to take a break. He and Richie. They bullied me into it. Frankly, I didn’t want to come at all.’
‘Really?’ The dressing on Sam’s brow twitched. ‘I’d never have guessed. Why were – are – you so dead set against taking a break? Everyone needs downtime.’
If ever there was a time to be honest, this was it. She had to recognise that there was a new bond between them: that Sam had saved her life. That had brought them together and so it was probably unsurprising that she was temporarily attracted to her handsome rescuer.
‘I suppose I see slowing down as a weakness,’ she said.
‘A weakness? How can taking care of yourself be weak?’
‘When you put it like that, it does sound counter-productive, but I’ve never been afraid of hard work. I guess it started when I had my market stall. I absolutely loved running it and every sale gave me a buzz, whether it was for my own stuff or a friend’s. The thought of how happy they’d be when I gave them their share of the takings … It made me happy and I became addicted.’
‘Addicted?’ Sam looked intrigued. ‘That’s a powerful word.’
‘Accurate, though. Once I decided to expand, well, establishing any new business is tough. You need to give it your all and, inevitably, other things in your life suffer. You must know that,’ she said, looking around at the retreat. ‘You did say you needed this project, remember?’
‘Did I?’ he said, with an air of surprise.
‘Hmm.’
‘Yes, I did. I suppose I’ve also become obsessed, staying here night after night. When the buck stops with you, you’ve no choice but to carry on. There’s no safety net.’
‘Exactly, and––’ Lily hesitated, but realised that she wanted to be honest with him. Perhaps he would understand her need to keep moving, be in constant motion to save herself from dealing with her grief.
‘I need to tell you something. That Nina Simone song. There’s a reason I was so upset. It’s the same reason I find it hard to take a break, the same reason I don’t want my parents to find out how close we came to being in serious danger just now.’ Lily took a pause before she could go on. She still found it difficult to talk about such a painful time in her life, but Sam’s reassuring gaze encouraged her.
‘Please, go on,’ he said gently.
‘My sister Cara – she died two years ago. That was the song her husband played at the funeral.’
Sam groaned softly. ‘I am so sorry. I’d no idea.’
‘How could you?’ she said. ‘Please don’t feel bad. But, you see, since she died, I’ve thrown myself into the business even more. It was easier to keep running at a hundred miles an hour rather than dwell on what I’d – what we’d all – lost. Does that make sense?’
‘Yes. It makes sense to me.’ The timbre of his voice told her that he really did understand. But before she could ask him why, he went on.
‘Do you mind me asking what did happen?’
Lily braced herself. Even now, she hated relaying the details but Sam deserved to know and perhaps it might be cathartic – after what they’d been through, was there any point holding back? Even though it was exhausting telling people what had happened, it was just as exhausting keeping it all inside.
‘It was a car accident. She’d been out with some girlfriends and the road was icy and the car skidded on black ice and hit a tree. It was instant, apparently, which people kept saying was a blessing. I didn’t think of it like that. I still can’t. All I can think of is that I never got the chance to tell her what she meant to me, how much I loved her, how I looked up to her and how absolutely amazing she was …’
Lily looked up from her mug to find Sam listening intently: encouraging her with his steady gaze. ‘She really was perfect. She worked in ICU as a paediatric nurse. She was wonderful with the children. She and Étienne were devoted to each other, yet she still found time to see Mum and Dad, do all the extended family stuff. Whereas I … had no partner, no kids, and only myself to look after yet I couldn’t find the time to be there for an important landmark for my parents.’
Once again, the guilt assailed her. She felt that constant need – a compulsion – to be busy yet she was slowly accepting that there were boundaries between work and relaxation. When she returned to London, she had to give herself permission to spend some time on herself – with herself.
‘I always thought that Cara was the maternal, caring one. She was destined to be a mother and find a gorgeous, kind husband. Her work as a paediatric nurse was a huge part of her life and personality,’ Lily went on. ‘Whereas I’ve always been driven. Mum says that from a young age I’d get a bee in my bonnet about something and there was no stopping me. At first it was making clothes for my dolls. I once made a little boilersuit and welding mask for my Barbie.’
Sam smiled. ‘I’d like to have seen that.’
‘The twins – Cara’s daughters – still have it, though it’s tatty now. I also made a rainbow playsuit for Ken but I think that disintegrated.’
‘Lucky Ken.’ He laughed.
‘Then it was sewing pouches and bags … I even had a go at pottery and the house was filled with wonky bowls and mugs. The handle fell off my dad’s one morning while he was drinking hot coffee. I can still picture him hopping around the kitchen trying to rip off his boiling shorts.’
Sam’s eyes shone with amusement. ‘I’m guessing you gave up the pottery?’
‘Mum and Dad gently suggested my talents lay in other areas. So, I went for the market stall and the online business. It grew and after Cara died, I went into overdrive. I blotted out my grief with work. I knew that and so did everyone around me, but I didn’t care. While I was focused on the business, I couldn’t think about her and dwell on the terrifying, sickening fact she was never coming back. While I worked, I couldn’t cry or lose control – I hated feeling I might burst into tears at any second. Sorry,’ she said, suddenly embarrassed at revealing too much. ‘I can’t expect you to understand.’
‘Oh, I understand more than you think,’ he murmured. ‘So you were saying that you reacted by throwing yourself into work?’ he added quickly.
‘I suppose I realised the true meaning of “you only live once” and felt I needed to get everything done and achieved as fast as possible because it can all be snatched away in a heartbeat. And I also felt guilty.’
‘Why?’ Sam said with a puzzled frown. ‘Cara’s death wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.’
‘You’re right, I had nothing to do with it, but I had – what’s the phrase? – survivor’s guilt. It felt wrong that I was alive, when I have so many faults, when I’m not always the nicest person to be around, yet my beautiful kind sister had died.’
‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Lily. Cara sounds like she was an incredible woman. But, you know, no one’s perfect,’ he said, with a sadness and firmness that surprised her. He really did seem to understand – or perhaps he was merely being kind.
‘Cara was as close to perfect as possible, and I say that without any envy or edge. Everyone adored her because she deserved to be adored. And that’s why my family must never ever hear of this. No one can. They were devastated after losing her. If anything happened to me, I think it would finish off Mum and Dad.’
‘I won’t tell anyone … I promise. Though perhaps they’d want to know.’
‘No. They’re already worried about me passing out at work. I didn’t want them to know but when they heard I was coming to this retreat, I had to tell them that I was worried about burnout … I can’t possibly tell them I almost drowned on top of that!’ Lily put her mug down. ‘Anyway, I don’t mind admitting, I feel pretty whacked. I’m not used to wild swimming and kayaking.’ She laughed and got to her feet. ‘I am sorry. It’s all about me, me, me again, isn’t it? You do realise you’ll have to employ a professional counsellor for your guests to talk to? You’re too good a listener.’
With old-fashioned chivalry, Sam rose to his feet too. ‘Only because I don’t have any answers. You came here to escape, and you’ve ended up running headlong into your trauma and having a very close call.’
‘We both did. Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘Like you, I don’t want to dwell on it. I can’t look back.’
‘I agree … you know, I think I’ll go and have a lie down and see you later for dinner?’
‘OK.’ He gave an apologetic grimace. ‘Though I’m afraid there won’t be sea bass. The fish and the rest of the gear went to the bottom of the sea.’
‘I’ll forgive you. In the circumstances.’
‘That’s why I went out, you see. Rory was meant to put some bass in the order I collected but he must have forgotten.’
‘So,’ Lily said, her blood running cold once again, ‘you’re saying if I hadn’t been such a demanding guest and asked for sea bass tonight, you might not have come out in the kayak at all?’
‘Let’s not think of it like that,’ Sam said. ‘I was there, and everything is OK.’
‘Baked beans on toast would taste great after what I’ve been through.’
‘I’ll do better than that,’ he said firmly.
‘Great. Though, Sam, promise me one thing?’
He frowned, obviously unsure what she was going to throw at him next. ‘What is it?’
‘That you’ll let me help make dinner and you’ll join me from the start. I’m not used to sitting around being waited on, especially not by someone I’ve shared a near-death experience with. And besides, it’s our last night. We can break the rules this one time, eh?’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lily prepared the goat’s cheese salad while Sam whisked up eggs, spinach and potatoes for the Spanish tortilla that was to be their ad hoc main.
‘This is fun,’ she said, placing the rinsed leaves on a plate. Fun was something she hadn’t had in a long time and, after their earlier experience, she desperately needed a distraction.
Sam handed her a glass of white wine. ‘Chef’s perks,’ he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
‘I’m not sure if making a salad counts as proper cooking, although I can’t remember the last time I made one for myself.’
‘It definitely counts. As you’ve probably gathered, I’m hardly a professional chef.’
‘You’ve done all right so far.’ Lily nodded at the new kitchen. Although bijou, its stainless-steel surfaces gleamed.
‘When I’m catering for one, I enjoy cooking. I’ve looked after myself for years. I’m not sure Morven always appreciates my food, though.’
Lily placed sliced roundels of crumbly goat’s cheese on the salad. Their shared experience made her feel more confident about asking him personal questions: ‘Does she live with you?’
‘Yes, since her dad left.’ He sighed. ‘My brother Nate got a job as a games designer in LA. It was meant to be a six-month contract, his big break and a lot of money. He was going to come home afterwards and buy a place in the UK. Or, if things were going exceptionally well, establish himself out there and Morven was going to join him.’
Intrigued, Lily carried on drizzling balsamic vinegar on the salad.
‘And I’m guessing that hasn’t happened?’ she said casually, scattering chopped walnuts on top.
‘That was eighteen months ago. Nate finished the contract then was offered another six months. He also moved in with a woman he met at work.’
Lily picked up the plates. ‘And there isn’t room for Morven?’
With a pained expression, Sam opened the door to the dining room to let her through. ‘Apparently not.’
They sat at the table. ‘That’s rough on Morven,’ she replied, understanding now why the teenager might be feeling pretty pissed off.
‘It is. She’s confused, upset … rejected.’
‘I bet.’
‘She also loathed my brother’s new girlfriend, Grady, on sight.’
‘They’ve met?’ Lily said in surprise.
‘Only over FaceTime. That was enough.’
‘So, Morven’s with you for the time being?’
‘Yes. She doesn’t want to live with me and she doesn’t want to live with Grady. I’m afraid Morven’s mum, Holly, didn’t feel able to care for her. She and Nate had a fling when she was over here for a holiday. She married young and then fell pregnant with Morven. Her husband refused to bring up another man’s child and issued her an ultimatum so Holly decided Morven was best off staying with Nate.’
Unlike Sam himself, Lily thought, who was bringing up another man’s child, even though the circumstances were very different. ‘That must have been incredibly hard for her,’ Lily said, trying to imagine having to give up your baby. ‘And no wonder Morven feels confused and rejected …’ Lily found her heart thawing towards the girl. ‘What does she want?’
‘If I knew that, I’d be able to predict the Lottery numbers.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know because Morven doesn’t know.’
They continued the meal for a while, talking about the food, where the cheese and leaves had come from.
‘It’s Morven who created the artwork in your cottage, you know,’ Sam said.
Lily thought back to the evocative collages of Scilly that hung in her room. They were original and haunting.
‘They’re all her work?’ she asked, rethinking her initial assessment of the truculent teenager.
‘All her own. She loves art. Mixed media is her big thing. She’s just finished her A-level Art course and she’s on track for a top grade.’
‘She’s a talented kid,’ said Lily, thinking of the contrast between Morven and Tyrone, who’d virtually copied the style of a best-selling designer rather than trying to create something original.
