Winter at Pretty Beach by Polly Babbington (best affordable ebook reader TXT) 📗

‘This room looks like my kind of room darling! I mean who has a Gin Room?’

‘It’s turned out quite nicely, hasn’t it? Just need the plants to really come into their own now.’

‘It’s like it’s got its own little climate - you could rent it out like a sauna,’ Lucian said and chuckled quietly as they sat down at the table and he got out his tablet.

‘Right, so the latest on the couple,’ Lucian said tapping away on the tablet.

Sallie sat back and listened to all the details - everything had gone to plan so far. She relayed her part of it all - Loretta at All the Beautiful Brides was all over the dress and it was on schedule to be ready and couriered from Hong Kong. All the decor was done apart from the last-minute lanterns. The caterers were sorted and had trialled the recipe that Ben and Sallie had tasted in the tiny cafe in France and the drinks order was ready and had been despatched to Jeddos off-licence.

‘So, we just need to give the photographer a quick ring to confirm for tomorrow morning for the shoot and then we’re done. All we have to worry about after that is that they actually turn up,’ Lucian summarised, looking up over the top of his glasses from the tablet.

‘I guess we are done, yes - though I never like saying that, there’s always been some little thing that’s gone wrong on every wedding I’ve worked on so far. So much so that I’ve now realised it’s par for the course that something unexpected will happen.’

‘Well, as long as that tree stays up and the heating doesn’t conk out on the day, I think we can cope with most things. Once we get these photos up and processed we’ll be well on the way darling. Then we can start hitting the social platforms with all the content and watch it all take off in front of our eyes.’

Sallie laughed, leant forward and patted Lucian on the top of his hand, ‘You do really make it all sound so very simple.’

Chapter 48

Sallie fiddled with the knob on the cooker to turn the heat up and broke some eggs into a pan, while standing at the hob in her pyjamas with a cup of tea. Ben was in the shower and they were having a rare Friday morning off, so she was making a cooked breakfast - one of Ben’s favourite meals.

Another flurry of snow had brought white to the outside of the Boat House, and a grey-white sky full of puffy clouds and a calm sea moved in and out outside the window. She walked over and laid out two white linen placemats, placed a little vintage bottle with a sprig of green in the middle of the table and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice on the mat.

Ben came out of the shower in jeans, a soft blue shirt and crew neck sweater over the top and sat down at the table as Sallie placed a small platter with eggs, tomatoes, and mushrooms and a side plate with fried bread on the table. Ben started to help himself and piled some on Sallie’s plate as she popped a dish with rashers of bacon next to the platter.

‘You need to try a bit of this bacon - I thought it smelt a bit funny as I took it out of the fridge,’ Sallie said as she put the plate on the table.

‘I can’t smell anything,’ Ben replied, cutting a tiny piece of the bacon off and popping it into his mouth, ‘It’s fine, I only bought it the other day so I’d be surprised if it was off,’ he said and went to scoop some onto Sallie’s plate.

‘Euuh, no, not for me today - the thought of eating bacon makes me feel ill. Just the smell of it in the pan was enough.’

‘You’ve always loved bacon, haven’t you?’

‘Up until now,’ Sallie said, as she piled all the other bits onto her plate helping herself to two portions of fried bread.

‘Mmmm, you sure know how to make a breakfast Sals.’ Ben said as he tucked in.

‘Thanks - you always say that, every single time I make it.’

‘Do I? That's because it’s delicious. You know what? It's the one thing that's missing in Pretty Beach - a decent old-school cooked breakfast. The nearest one is over by the wharf in the Old Town.’

Just as they were clearing up and loading the dishwasher, Ben’s phone pinged with a text.

Hey Ben. Shane Pence here. Look, I think I might have something of interest for you. An old Victorian property in walking distance to the wharf and restaurants. Four floors, partial views from the top - looks like it might be good for you. It’s in need of work and they’re only going to sell off-market if there’s someone wanting a deal. I’m over there this afternoon if you want to sneak in for a viewing.

Sounds just what we’re looking for. What time will you be over there?

I’ll be there at two. Strawberry Hill House on Strawberry Hill Lane. Let me know or just turn up before. Look, it’s a bit of a tricky situation with the owner and they’ll only sell off-market really.

OK, cheers mate. We’ll see you there.

Sallie had finished clearing up the plates and putting the frying pan and pots into the dishwasher.

‘You're not going to believe this - four-storey Victorian in the Old Town in need of work!’ Ben exclaimed.

‘No! Oh my! Don’t, Ben, I can’t even get my hopes up. Four-storey? It must be one of the villas down on the front then. There aren’t any other Victorian properties over that side with four storeys, are there?’ She replied, frowning.

‘There is, according to this address,’ Ben said, showing his phone to Sallie.

Sallie pulled her laptop across the table, put the address into the maps app, clicked on