‘What are you talking about?’ Abigail stepped further from the doorway, outside into the front garden. She caught sight of the surfboard. She’d never seen one lying around before when she’d holidayed here. This time, she looked up. On the wooden platform outside the entrance to the lighthouse, two storeys up, a young man stood in knee-length shorts, and he was bare-chested. He had a mug in his hand, and he was staring out to sea. Lili was right; he was fit and tanned. Abigail stared at him, wondering what had happened to the old guy who’d lived in the converted lighthouse for years and who had always seemed to do his best to disrupt their holiday.
As if sensing that someone was staring at him – or perhaps he’d heard their voices – he turned around, looked down and saw them.
Lili waved.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Just being friendly. Why – what’s the problem?’
Abigail frowned. She had gone there to be on her own, not get involved with neighbours. At least the old man had kept himself to himself when he’d finished showing his displeasure at them being there.
The young guy waved back and started down the stairs.
‘Just great,’ Abigail said under her breath, rolling her eyes at Lili. She didn’t want to make rash judgements about people, but she could just imagine there was a whole group of surfer friends up there at this moment, sleeping it off after partying into the night.
Next, she expected to see his girlfriend, equally slim and tanned, standing outside on the upper deck in a bikini.
He walked down the metal stairs while Abigail looked for any sign of friends or a girlfriend. Nobody else appeared either upstairs or from the front door on the ground floor.
Lili stepped forward. ‘Hello.’
Abigail held back.
‘I’m Lili. This is my friend, Abigail.’
Abigail gave him a perfunctory nod. She wasn’t interested in introductions – although she did give him the once-over, wondering who he was. He wasn’t as young as she’d first thought, not in his twenties. She guessed in his early thirties, like the two of them.
‘I’m Joss. I noticed the van outside …’ He pointed at Lili’s van. ‘I thought it might be a delivery for the new owners, although we haven’t seen anybody in the cottage recently.’
Abigail looked at him, wishing he’d put a shirt on. It wasn’t that warm.
‘My uncle said the place changed hands,’ he added.
‘Your uncle?’
Joss turned turquoise eyes on Abigail, brushing his blonde, windswept hair out of his eyes. ‘He lives here in the lighthouse.’
As if on cue, an older man appeared through the downstairs front doorway, carrying a mug, just like Joss. Abigail did a double-take. She recognised him, but he’d lost weight – a lot. It made her wonder if he was unwell.
‘What’s going on, Joss? Who are they?’
Abigail frowned at the old man, who was just as brusque as she remembered. He’d often been out to tell them they weren’t parked in the right spot or they’d blocked him in, which they never had. They had always felt he did it on purpose just to be a nuisance. Every holiday, the moment they’d arrived, there he’d been. She recalled the discussions they’d always had, whenever they were planning the two-hour journey by rental car to the cottage, over what time they should arrive to try to avoid him. The trouble was the gravelled shared driveway between the cottage and the lighthouse; no matter how slowly they turned their car into the driveway, there was no escaping the sound of tyres on gravel. If he was home, he’d always heard them – and he was at home most of the time. It made her wonder what he did in there all day, apart from looking at the views.
This time, she’d be prepared. She had the deeds, so she could see what land came as part of the property. It was something she knew she should have spent more time going into with the solicitor, but after that fainting episode, the meeting had effectively been over. She would like to pave the gravel driveway, but she imagined that as it was shared, they’d have to agree on it. Even if it would look so much nicer and be so much quieter – and she was prepared to foot the bill – she couldn’t imagine him agreeing to anything; he’d refuse just to be awkward.
Joss turned to his uncle. ‘This is Lili and Abigail.’
‘So, what are they doing here?’ He caught sight of Lili’s delivery van. ‘You’re wasting your time delivering flowers. No one is living next door.’
Lili smiled. ‘Well, actually, I wasn’t delivering flowers today …’
Abigail shook her head at Lili, in an attempt to stop her from what she knew was coming next.
‘I’m here with my friend, Abigail, who owns the cottage.’Lili raised her eyebrows at Abigail in awhat’s the problem?gesture.
Abigail took a deep breath. If she’d got that much grief from her neighbour when she was just holiday-letting the cottage, she could just imagine the reception she’d get whenhe found out she was the owner. She glanced at the old man. He was looking her up and down. ‘Where’s the young guy?’
Joss turned to his uncle. ‘What guy?’