Page 86 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘Wait a moment, I’ll be right down!’
I blink a couple of times, partly in shock and partly to bat away the huge raindrops that are still tumbling down my face.
‘Come in! Come in!’ Julian says, flinging open the door in front of me. ‘You must be soaked through.’
Slightly confused, I step into the warm and dry of the cottage. It looks nothing like it had in Freddie’s time. The front room that had been the kitchen-cum-art studio was now a cosy sitting room, and the wall that Freddie’s paintings had been hanging on has been knocked through so the whole space makes a large open-plan kitchen and sitting room, perfect for the needs of today’s modern holiday-maker. Where Freddie’s huge black stove had been stands a widescreen TV, and where Maggie and Freddie had sat painting together an L-shaped sofa now fills the space.
‘Let me get you a towel,’ Julian says, looking around. ‘I think there are some fresh ones upstairs in the linen cupboard.’
He dashes up a narrow staircase while I stand looking around me. Why was Julian here in this house? I’d only come here hoping to find Freddie’s cottage – to see if it was still here. I hadn’t expected to find anyone I knew in it, let alone Julian!
Julian returns with a couple of fluffy white towels.
‘Thanks,’ I say, taking one from him and squeezing my hair into it. ‘I didn’t realise the rain would be quite so heavy when I set out.’
‘But why were you standing outside my cottage?’ Julian asks, watching me as I dry off my bare arms and dab at my shirt and jeans. ‘I had no idea you knew I was here.’
‘I didn’t. I … I was looking at the paintwork outside, thinking it was very pretty.’
‘In the rain?’ Julian asks suspiciously.
I shrug.
‘Do you want me to fetch you some dry clothes?’ Julian asks. ‘Or a dressing gown? I can soon get your wet clothes sorted out. I do believe there’s a tumble-drier somewhere …’ He looks around at the kitchen as if the whereabouts of this particular appliance is a huge mystery yet to be solved.
‘You’re stayinghere?’ I ask, not answering him. The last thing I wanted was to be sitting in Julian’s presence in nothing but a dressing gown. He hadn’t said as much, but he’d suggested enough times that his feelings towards me were a little more than simple friendship. ‘I know you said you were staying in your dad’s old property while you were here, but I didn’t think an old fisherman’s cottage was your sort of place?’
‘It wouldn’t be usually. Normally I prefer to stay in one of the luxury apartments overlooking the bay, but because they were fully booked when I extended my visit I came here. I rent it out, you see. It’s usually taken for most of the season, but luckily we had a cancellation so it was free. It’s a little bit pokey and there’s no view, of course, but it will do for now.’
‘Your father boughtthiscottage? I ask. Something wasn’t adding up.
‘Yes, funny little place, isn’t it? Not my father’s usual style at all. Most of his properties were luxury villas and Georgian townhouses, but this one always seemed special to him for some reason.’
‘How long has your family owned this place?’ I ask. Something is bugging me but I can’t quite work out what it is.
‘Oh, for ever,’ Julian says. ‘I can’t remember a time when we didn’t have it. Kate, I really think you should get out of those wet clothes. As my grandmother used to say, you’ll catch your death of cold. The robes upstairs are rather lovely – we provide them for the guests.’
‘Okay, then,’ I agree, but only because I need to ask some more questions about this cottage.
‘Good,’ Julian says, nodding. ‘Upstairs on the left. Big closet on the landing. It’s locked most of the time as it’s where we keep all the clean supplies for changeovers, but I’ve just opened it to get the towels. You’ll find a stack of white robes up there waiting for you.’
‘Great.’
‘Would you like a warming hot chocolate when you come back down? The little café down the road does some rather lovely ones. I could pop out and get us a couple.’
‘But then you’ll get wet as well!’
‘I’ll take a brolly.’
‘Sure,’ I relent. ‘That would be lovely, thank you, Julian.’
‘My pleasure.’
I head upstairs, and as Julian had promised find a pile of newly laundered white fluffy dressing gowns in a cupboard. I grab one, and another towel, and then I quickly find the bathroom, peel off my wet clothes and pop the robe around me. Then I towel dry my hair a little more and am about to head back downstairs when I pause.
At the top of the landing are a series of prints hung together in an artistic group. They look familiar … where have I seen them before?Oh, that’s right, I remember as I look a little more closely at them and see two initials at the bottom right of each. These are reproductions of Winston James originals – copies of the paintings I’d seen in the Lyle Gallery exhibition. It made sense that Winston would have wanted prints of his work hung here in the house he originally owned.
Thinking no more of it I head back downstairs with my wet clothes, quickly find the mysterious tumble-drier, switch it on and then settle down on the sofa to wait for Julian. He seems to have been gone a while. I hope he hasn’t gone to too much trouble getting us hot chocolate.
