But now it was officially tomorrow, and the doorbell was definitely ringing. Robin had had it replaced, having spent far too long listening to sound-snippets on a website before picking the perfect chime, so there could be no mistaking it. She padded down the hallway, wondering whether Molly had, in her slightly tipsy state, left her phone behind, but as she got closer to the door and turned the outside light on, the figure behind the coloured glass became clearer, and it wasn’t Molly-shaped.
Robin pulled the door open and tried not to gasp. ‘H-hello,’ she stuttered, ‘how can I help?’
It was the man who’d gone into Tabitha’s house. He had the same tall frame and broad shoulders, and the same small dog at his feet. A closer look confirmed he was her age, or perhaps a couple of years older. He was blinking at her under the outside light, and he was soaked. Robin peered behind him to check there hadn’t been a sudden, silent downpour, and when she was satisfied, turned her attention back to him and the dog who, she realized, looked equally bedraggled. It was adorable, the kind of breed that could be mistaken for a cuddly toy, and she had to resist scooping it into her arms.
‘There’s been a leak,’ he said. ‘I mean, there is a leak, next door.’ His voice was deep and slightly breathless, his expression was apologetic, and his eyes, Robin couldn’t help noticing, were very green. He had a spread of freckles across a straight nose and tanned cheeks, and his short hair, which was plastered to his forehead, gave a suggestion of being chestnut brown when it wasn’t wet. The dark stain on his grey jumper looked like he’d been dumped under a bucket of water rather than an impromptu rain shower.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I – have I caused the leak?’
He frowned. ‘What? No, I don’t think so. I think the roof needs repairing.’
‘My roof?’ Robin stepped outside and peered up at the front of the guesthouse, her heart hammering with alarm. She was very close to him now. She caught a whiff of mildewed water and something else, something much more pleasant that brought back a childhood memory: full paper bags from the traditional sweet shop in town.
‘No,’ the man said, his voice now with a hint of frustration. ‘Next door. Look, I’m not accusing you of anything, and I’m sorry to knock so late, but you are still a guesthouse, aren’t you? The sign says so.’ He pointed upwards. Robin resisted the urge to look up at her own name sign, and instead stepped back inside, facing him.
‘Sorry.’ She rubbed her forehead. Damn Molly and that second bottle of wine. ‘Sorry, yes I am. You’re staying next door?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Well,’ he said, giving her a wry smile. ‘I was trying to, but it seems the house has other ideas. I can’t … I mean, I could stay there. It would probably be the manly thing to do, style it out on the floor in another of the rooms, do the whole Bear Grylls thing, but the place needs a complete overhaul. Then I remembered that, as luck would have it, my aunt lived next to a guesthouse.’
‘Your aunt?’ Robin had been about to tell him that she was pretty sure Bear Grylls grappled with terrains a bit more hard-core than seafront houses, but now she was distracted. ‘Tabitha was your aunt?’
The man’s eyes widened, and then his smile registered something that was either genuine happiness, or possibly relief now that he was finally getting some sense out of her. ‘Yes, yes she was. Hi.’ He held out his hand. ‘Will Nightingale.’
Robin took it. It was warm and firm and – unsurprisingly, given the rest of him – slightly damp. ‘Robin Brennan,’ she replied, trying to find similarities with the woman she had lived next door to for most of her childhood. Tabitha’s eyes had been hazel rather than startling green, but, along with a growing spread of grey, she’d had the woody, mid-brown hair that Robin suspected Will’s would be once it dried. And Robin remembered her neighbour once telling her that her maiden name was Nightingale, and that the only sadness she’d had in getting married to the love of her life was losing such a beautiful surname for the mundanity of becoming Mrs Thomas.
‘Hi, Robin.’ Will dropped his hand. ‘I don’t suppose, by any chance, you’ve got any rooms going? Just so I can be a wuss in comfort and deal with the leak tomorrow, in the daylight. And I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you also accept my dog? I don’t want Darcy to be left in a strange, empty house on her own.’
‘Yes,’ Robin said, ‘of course. Please come in.’ Will grinned, his shoulders dropping in relief. He picked up his bag from the porch and stepped into the hallway. ‘Darcy?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Long story.’ He was standing close to her, looking around him, failing to meet her eye all of a sudden. ‘This place is great,’ he said. ‘A far cry from what Tabitha’s left me with. Look,’ he turned towards her, ‘I do appreciate this. I know it’s after midnight, and you’re probably not in the habit of accepting guests – and dogs – so late. So if you just tell me where my room is, I’ll dry Darcy off, get out of your hair and we can regroup in the morning.’
‘Sure, sure. No problem,’ Robin managed, her head so full of questions about Tabitha, and how come he’d appeared now, and why had Robin never met him while she was growing up, and did he know about the plans that Malcolm and Tim had for the house, and had they found his number and got in touch with him, that for a moment she forgot the reality of the situation. ‘Your room. Yes, of course – let me show you.’
‘Please don’t put yourself out. I’m sure I can find my way. I’ve got navigational skills like Bear Grylls, even if I don’t have his stamina.’ His face fell as he caught Robin’s eye and she didn’t return the smile. It had just dawned on her, through the shock of the unexpected situation, which room she was going to have to put Will in for the night.
‘I’d like to show you if that’s OK?’ She hurried into Sea Shanty and took the key from the top drawer, the icon of GuestSmart winking accusingly at her from the desktop. She would check him in later. ‘My rooms are a bit … unique,’ she managed, taking a towel out of the bottom drawer and handing it to him.
‘Oh?’ Will raised his eyebrows, suddenly looking slightly nervous. They stood in the hallway, facing each other, as the rest of the guesthouse settled into darkness around them. ‘Unique in what way?’ He crouched and rubbed Darcy with the towel. She stood perfectly still while she was dried into a caramel puffball.
‘You’ll see,’ Robin said. ‘Come with me.’ Without asking, and with her heart pounding in her chest, she picked up Will’s holdall and started climbing the stairs towards their destination at the top of the house.
She was going to have to put Will Nightingale, Tabitha’s nephew, and his little dog Darcy, in Starcross.
‘Here we are,’ Robin said, her chest tightening as she stopped on the tiny landing outside Starcross. Will stopped on the top step behind her. There wasn’t enough room for both of them on the landing, and she could feel his breath on her ear, but for some reason she couldn’t open the door. She had a mental block. She looked at the nameplate, pearly white with Starcross written in swirling blue, as with all the other name signs, and wondered if she could do this. Put this tall, imposing, though so far very nice-seeming man in this special room. A room full of dreams and hopes and finding meaning in the stars.
‘Uhm, is everything all right?’ Will asked.
‘Yes, of course.’ She put her hand on the door handle. Pushed it down. And he had a dog. A very cute dog, some kind of poodle-cross, though she wasn’t sure exactly what. She had