Page 27 of The Shape of Your Heart
‘It’s OK – to a point, that is.’ Fishing in his pocket, he gets out a folded piece of paper. ‘I did this earlier.’
As he unfolds it, I see it’s a carefully sketched plan. ‘This looks quite expert,’ I tell him. ‘You’ve clearly done this kind of thing before.’
He nods. ‘Except usually it isn’t gardens.’
Just then, our fish and chips are delivered. As I unwrap them, I realise how hungry I am. ‘So what is it you do exactly?’
‘Property development – at least, it’s what I used to do before my health problems got in the way. I’m in the process of negotiating the purchase of some land on the edge of Padstow.’
I find myself curious to know more about him. It isn’t the first time he’s alluded to his health. And he clearly isn’t short of money. ‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘I’m not sure really. At first, I was thinking of holiday accommodation, but I’m considering building half a dozen high-spec homes.’ Looking at me, he frowns slightly. ‘Have I said something wrong?’
I feel myself tense, because I know the type of house he’s talking about. They’ve popped up everywhere – ultra modern and glass-fronted; high-tech with minimalist interiors. Although he’s talking about them as if they are different to holiday accommodation, these places are sold with holiday occupancy written into the deeds. And it’s a dilemma. Their owners bring much-needed money in, but at the same time, local people are priced out of the market.
‘Does Cornwall really need more top-end second homes that local people can’t afford?’ Realising how that sounds, I break off. ‘I don’t mean to sound rude, but more and more local people can’t afford to buy a house around here. It’s going to end up being a place only rich people can afford.’
He frowns slightly. ‘There’s a market for them – and if I don’t build them, there’ll be plenty of others who will.’
‘I know you’re right,’ I say carefully. ‘It’s just that when there’s already a shortage of housing for local people, I don’t agree with it.’
‘Fair enough.’ He picks up another chip. ‘I guess we’d better talk about something else.’
But I’m not giving up just yet. When he’s been open-minded enough to reconsider his original plan fort his garden, maybe he might think again about his property development. ‘Considering you’ve bought a fairly elderly house, and have all these wonderful ideas for your garden, have you thought you could apply the same principles to your property development?’
‘If you bought a plot of land, what would you do with it?’
‘Protect it,’ I say promptly. ‘Turn it into a conservation area.’
‘I’m not sure there’s a lot of money in that,’ he says wryly.
‘I suppose my angle isn’t about money. It’s like you said about your garden, it’s about giving something back. I’d want it to be of benefit to the community in some way.’
‘Hmm… I’m not sure my investors would go for that.’
I shrug. ‘Unless you ask them, you’ll never know, will you?’
‘Actually…’ He’s frowning again. ‘You might be on to something. The houses will be eco-friendly, made of local materials, using local craftsmen, set among grounds that could be a wildlife habitat. The two could exist alongside each other.’ He looks at me intently. ‘I could pay you to design the gardens.’
I’m still not sure what I think of it. ‘At the moment, I have enough going on in my life.’
‘Consider it,’ he says quietly. ‘That’s all I ask. Would you like another beer?’
‘OK.’ I watch him get up and wander up to the bar, a strange feeling coming over me. All evening, it’s as though I’ve stepped out of my life into someone else’s; someone who seems unfamiliar. I’m not at all sure how that makes me feel.
Pulling on my cardigan, I gaze towards the water. On the horizon, dark clouds are gathering, the sea already changing colour, its movement picking up momentum, as I remember a dozen other storms Liam and I watched together.
‘Looks like you were right about a storm coming.’ Nathan puts a beer on the table in front of me.
‘Thanks.’ I’m silent, still remembering, but it’s odd. Memories usually trigger a tsunami of nostalgia, but instead of wanting to leave, here with Nathan, I feel strangely at home.
‘You’ll probably think I’m crazy,’ he says. ‘I don’t know this cove. But I keep getting the feeling I’ve been here before.’
‘You mean déjà vu?’ I used to have this theory that we lived hundreds of lifetimes, that were all part of our souls’ evolution. ‘Once, I would have said you’d probably come here in another lifetime… But now, I don’t believe anything like that.’ I take a deep breath. ‘We’re born, we live, we die… End of.’ I shrug.
‘Because of your fiancé?’ he says quietly.
‘Yes.’ My voice wobbles slightly. ‘Isn’t love supposed to bridge the divide between almost anything? And since he died, I haven’t had even the smallest of signs.’
