The one time she had gone over to spend the summer with her father, she had felt odd, out of place, and Nick had made it clear that he didn’t want her there either. Raina had tried to be welcoming, but the more she had tried the more Hattie had resented her for coming along and splitting up her family. She felt that to be friendly to Raina would be being disloyal to her mum. Then when baby Lacey had come along a couple of years later, Hattie had really felt an outsider; her father and Raina had a new child together, a new family. She’d avoided going over to visit again, not wanting to desert her mother, so her father had come over once a year for an awkward long weekend with Raina, Nick and Lacey and they’d all met for a polite lunch and that was it. By the time Hattie had gone to college to study photography, her contact with her father was reduced to phone calls on her birthday and Christmas. Hattie’s mother, Caroline, had met her partner Howard a few years ago and gone to live in the Algarve, so that was both her parents living abroad. Hattie didn’t really mind; she had a busy life and at least both her parents were happy now.
Armed with her iPad – far easier to send quick photos to her father that way – and a notebook, she moved from room to room, assessing what needed doing. The kitchen was functional but dated, the dark cupboards making it look rather dingy; the white paint covering the stone walls in both the kitchen and the lounge area needed refreshing, and maybe a new bright carpet, the existing brown patterned one being stained and worn. An hour later, she had completed her tour and jotted down a page of suggestions. Uncle Albert didn’t seem to have done much to the cottage in all the years he’d lived there, but she didn’t think they should modernise it too much; part of its charm was that it was so traditional. She was sure her dad wouldn’t want to spend too much money on it either.
She tried to log onto the wi-fi to send the notes and photos over to her dad, but the only wi-fi connection available was secured and she couldn’t find a router anywhere to get the password. There was a phone but it was disconnected. She should have realised that Uncle Albert wouldn’t have wi-fi – why would he? She sighed. Well, at least she had an unlimited mobile-data package, so she could just use her phone or iPad for the Internet. It would be a waste of time getting wi-fi installed now, as she would only be here a couple of months and you usually had to sign up for a twelve-month contract.
She zapped the photos over to her dad, had another cup of coffee and decided to draft a poster to put in local shop windows to see if she could drum up some photography work. Then she went into the back yard to check on her bike, wondering if she should put the cover over it. There were a lot of seagulls about.
She heard a miaow and saw a big black cat perched on the top of the wall, its intense amber gaze fixed on her.
‘Hello, puss,’ she said, walking over towards it.
The cat glared at her, then scrambled back over the wall as soon as Hattie got closer. She wondered if it was Marcus’s cat. It didn’t look very friendly and that stare could terrify the birds in the trees. Maybe that’s why he had kept Buddy in Uncle Albert’s cottage and come around to feed him rather than taking him home with him.
Walking over to the bike, parked up by the shed, she looked with dismay at the white splodges on the black leather seat. The bike cover was definitely a good idea. Hearing the gate open next door, she glanced over and saw Marcus walk in, hair wet and tousled, carrying his surfboard. His eyes met hers over the shoulder-high wall, then flicked to the motorbike. She saw the surprise on his face, then he looked away, placed his surfboard against the wall and went indoors. Just her luck to have such a disapproving, up-himself neighbour!
Chapter Four
Hattie wiped the bike seat and put the bike cover over, then went inside to take her printer out of the top box in the hall. Placing it on the kitchen table, she booted up her laptop. The lack of Internet was a problem, as her printer usually worked via wi-fi, but luckily she had brought the cable with her so could use that to link the printer to the laptop. Half an hour later, she had half a dozen A5 sized posters printed out with a link to her business Facebook page which featured some of the photos she’d taken. They looked pretty impressive, she thought as she read over one of them. She’d try the corner shop first, she needed some food supplies anyway and didn’t fancy riding out anywhere to get a big shop in yet. She wanted to explore the little town of Port Medden after lunch. So, she popped the posters into a cotton shopping bag then grabbed her shoulder bag and set off up the hill.
The lady in the corner shop was very friendly. ‘Of course you can put your poster in the window. How long do you want it in there for?’
‘Would three months be okay?’ It would take that long to sell the cottage, surely? ‘I need to try and get some photography work to keep me afloat and I’m guessing the summer months are the best time for that.’
‘It certainly is. Have you just moved into Port Medden, then?’ the woman asked.
‘Yes, I’m here for the summer.’
