‘Here we are, boys,’ says Oliver, as the Range Rover judders over the cattle grid.
Turning right, he follows the farm track towards the bank of tall Scots pine trees in the distance. The paddocks on either side are awash with wildflowers.
‘Do we own all this?’ Sebastian asks, leaning out of the window.
‘Twenty acres of it,’ Oliver says.
‘Neat!’
Oliver glances in the rear-view mirror. Jamie gazes wide-eyed at the wild cliffs stretching for miles beyond the fields’ boundaries. As they pass under the trees, the slate roof comes into view, and Oliver pulls up beside Zennor’s car in the turning circle at the side of the cottages.
‘OK, lads. Time to discover your new holiday home.’
‘Wicked!’ exclaims Sebastian, already half out of the door.
Oliver gets out. Raising his hands high above his head, he stretches and breathes in the clean Cornish air; salty with a tinge of pine. Clouds trail across an azure sky above an ocean shimmering in welcome.
‘Look at all the boats, Jamie,’ he says, noticing Zennor standing at the edge of the cliff.
The boy nods.
The bay is alive with yachts of varying sizes and colours, their sails filling in a strengthening breeze. All at once Oliver’s mood lifts. For the remainder of her time at home, Deanna remained cool and only indirectly communicated with him through their sons. She made no comment when he suggested he took the boys to The Lizard for half-term. In fact, he thought she looked surprisingly relieved. Although she previously threatened no family member would ever visit him in Cornwall, she seems to have conveniently forgotten this.
‘Good morning, Oliver,’ calls Zennor, approaching across the long lawn. ‘You made good time.’
‘We left early to avoid the traffic,’ Oliver says, shaking her hand. ‘These are my sons, Sebastian and Jamie. This is Zennor. She found this home for us.’
‘Hi,’ says Sebastian. Jamie smiles sweetly.
‘I’ve just been looking at your beach,’ Zennor says to the boys. ‘There’s lots of flotsam washed up due to the large tides we’ve had during the past week. I’m sure you’ll have no end of fun exploring. You can go shrimping, crabbing and rock-pooling when the tide’s out.’
‘Cool,’ says Sebastian.
‘Looks busy out there,’ comments Oliver, indicating the bay.
‘Yes, the Fal River festival. It’s held every year,’ Zennor says, turning her attention to the boats. ‘You’ve moved in at the right time. The festival only started a couple of days ago. Loads of events take place at dozens of locations around the water. There’s music and drama, which will no doubt interest you, Oliver, and art, history, heritage, gig racing, swimming, walking, and lots more besides.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ says Oliver. ‘We’ve got a lot to pack in during the week, haven’t we, boys?’
‘Great,’ says Sebastian enthusiastically. ‘We’ll get up early.’
Jamie nods. A small, brightly painted sailing dinghy tacks across the water not far offshore and he watches its progress with interest. Two boys are on board; one about the same age as him.
‘I suppose I’d better do the key handover,’ says Zennor, producing a bunch from her pocket. ‘There are front and back door keys for each cottage, not that the derelict ones have substantial doors! The keyring is yours to keep, in case you ever need to contact me again,’ she says, colouring slightly.
Oliver takes the bunch of keys from her. The oblong keyring is hard to miss with its brilliant blue background and outline of a house perched on a cliff. He turns it over. On the back is etched ‘By the Sea Property Finders’ and the company’s telephone number.
‘Thank you, Zennor. You never know.’
Zennor’s blush spreads. Quickly, she adds, ‘Did you contact the Truro architects I told you about?’
‘Yes. They’re coming out this week to discuss my plans.’
‘That’s good,’ she says, not in a hurry to leave.
‘Would you like to see the cottage again?’ Oliver asks.
‘I’d like that very much,’ Zennor says. ‘It’s so lovely.’
Oliver smiles. She’s sweet and has worked well for him, understanding his brief and fulfilling her promise of finding a suitable property by the sea. Inserting the key into the lock, he opens the front door and stands back. ‘After you, Zennor.’
She steps over the threshold into the bright entrance hall, its slate flagstones as gleaming as on the previous occasion. Oliver follows with Sebastian and Jamie not far behind. Excitedly, the boys explore the ground-floor rooms, trying out the chairs at the kitchen table and flopping onto the sofas in the living room before rushing upstairs to check out their bedroom and squabble over which bed is whose.
‘It’s still exquisite,’ says Zennor with a smile. ‘Mr and Mrs Richardson were relieved you purchased it fully furnished so they didn’t have the bother of disposing of the furniture.’
‘It helped me out too,’ Oliver says, picking up an envelope lying on the kitchen table addressed to him. ‘While the builders work on the derelict cottages, we can stay here when we’re down.’
Lifting the flap, he extracts the note and reads. He crosses the room and opens the fridge door. ‘How thoughtful,’ he murmurs. Turning to Zennor, he says, ‘The Richardsons have stocked up on the basics for us. Saves me a trip to the supermarket!’
‘In all my dealings with them they seemed very nice people,’ Zennor says. She glances at her watch. ‘Well, I guess I’d better leave you and your sons to settle in.’
‘Thank you, Zennor, for all your hard work,’ Oliver says graciously.
‘It’s been my pleasure.’
‘Once the other cottages are knocked into shape, perhaps you’d like to come back and see what we’ve done?’
‘That would be great,’ Zennor says, trying not to show too much excitement and maintain a professional image. ‘I rarely get to see what clients do to the properties I find them.’
‘Well, then, it’s a date,’ says Oliver, walking her to her car.
‘Thank you for being a great client, Oliver,’ she says, turning to him and holding out her hand.
Ignoring the proffered hand, Oliver hugs her. ‘And thank you for being a great property finder, Ms Stacey.’
Before she has a chance to completely blow her composure, Zennor quickly climbs in the car. Lowering the window, she calls out as casually as possible, ‘Hope to see you around. If you ever need any help, you know where I am!’
He watches as her car disappears up the track, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Then, opening the boot of the Range Rover, Oliver pulls out a couple of bags and walks back to the cottage.
‘Seb, Jamie, go and get your bags out of the car,’ he calls up to the first floor.
Sudden footsteps and Sebastian appears at the top of the stairs. ‘This is great, Dad. The views are amazing!’
‘Just you wait until the telescope is set up. You’ll be able to watch all the comings and goings in Falmouth and St Mawes,’ says Oliver.
As Sebastian runs out of the cottage, Oliver climbs the stairs. In the smaller of the two bedrooms Jamie kneels on the window seat, his nose pressed firmly against the pane of glass.
‘Well, Jamie, what do you think?’ Oliver asks, entering the room. ‘Do you like it?’
Jamie turns to his dad. ‘I do.’
‘We will have lots of fun. There’s so much to discover.’ Joining his son at the window, he sees the yacht race is still under way.
‘I saw a boy in one of the boats,’ says Jamie quietly. ‘Will we get a boat?’
‘I expect so. Apart from the sea, there’s the Helford and the Fal to explore. Would you like that?’
Jamie bites his lip. ‘I think so,’ he says hesitantly.
Oliver puts his arm around his young son’s shoulders. ‘No one is going to force you to do anything, Jamie, but I think it would be good if we did different things when we’re down here. See this as a new start; an adventure waiting to happen. I think you may be surprised by what we will achieve.’
As Jamie looks up into his eyes, Oliver’s heart pinches. He’s so unsure, this young son – full of fear and anxiety. He squeezes the boy’s shoulder. ‘As I say, you’re not going to be forced to do anything. Let’s just see how each day pans out, shall we?’
Jamie nods, his attention once more drawn to the yachts on the water. A mixture of excitement and terror registers on his face.
‘What have you got in your bag?’ Sebastian pants, as he appears in the doorway. He drags two bulging holdalls into the bedroom. ‘You owe me one, brother!’
‘OK, boys, unpack while I make brunch,’ Oliver says, walking to the door. ‘I think we deserve a good one after the early start we had this morning.’