Page 4 of Winter at Wishington Bay
‘No, I didn’t mean…’ he ran a hand across the hint of dark stubble that shadowed his chin.
‘Didn’t mean what, exactly?’
‘That you…’ he faltered.
Bryan had now woken again, apparently picking up on the tension filling the room and he toddled over, stopping by Nate’s thickly socked feet. He gave a little whine and Nate bent and scooped him up. ‘It’s all right, mate,’ he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over Bryan’s silky head. The little dog looked over at me, as if he wanted me to confirm this.
The distraction seemed to have given Nate time to collect, and organise, his thoughts.
‘I’m just aware that Gabe knows I’ve been unhappy and now he’s all loved up, he’s in that position where he wants everyone else to be too. I’m sure you’re really nice and everything, but I’m definitely not looking for… anything… to happen over here. I’m not interested in exploring or anything like that either. I just needed somewhere with peace and quiet where I can get on and write this book. Had I known my brother and Holly had other ideas, I might have made different plans.’
I stared at him for a moment, shook my head and headed towards the back door to let myself out.
‘Sophia, wait.’
I didn’t.
But the words were burning inside me and I’d spent a lifetime not saying what I felt. I’d made a promise I would never do that again. Sometimes it worked out, sometimes it didn’t, but at least I now knew I was being true to myself. Having pulled open the door, I turned back, coming face to face with Nate who had crossed the room after he’d called. He was closer than I’d planned, which was a little unsettling. There was quite a lot of Nate McKinley – in a good way – which was inconvenient, but thanks to his superior attitude, he’d made it incredibly easy to ignore anything I might ordinarily have considered attractive about him.
‘Just so you know,’ I said, looking up – quite a way up – at him. ‘Your brother and Holly had no such ideas as those you’re suggesting. As much of a catch as you seem to think you may be, I’m certainly not looking for anyone either at the moment – and if I were… well, let’s be honest, shall we? You haven’t exactly endeared yourself to me so far. Gabe and Holly are just concerned about you, and everyone knows that shutting yourself away isn’t good for mind or body, so a bit of exploring might not have hurt you. But clearly you’re intent on staying inside your cocoon, except when Bryan forces you out of it, and that’s your prerogative. People in this village care about each other. It’s just the way they are. And I, for one, have been grateful for that. Obviously, it’s not really your thing, and that’s fair enough but it might be wise not to assume there’s some hidden agenda behind everything. Sometimes people are just nice. I would have thought you’d have realised that as Gabe’s your brother, but maybe not. Perhaps you should have made other plans, as you said. It sounds like a hotel room in a faceless city might have worked just as well, if not better, for what you wanted rather than somewhere people might actually care and take an interest. However, I for one won’t make that mistake again. I’ll be back to clean the same time next week if you want to arrange your dog walk so that I don’t disturb your work.’
With that I turned back to the door, used all my willpower not to storm out and instead left in a calm and controlled – outwardly at least – manner, not waiting for Nate’s reply.
3
As I stalked back up the hill towards the centre of the village and my cosy little flat above Flora’s gift shop, I turned things over in my mind. I wasn’t exactly thrilled I’d let off a rocket at a friend’s brother but, if anything was said about it later, hopefully I’d be able to explain my actions. And I stood by what I said. From what I’d seen, the eldest McKinley brother would have been better booking into some bland chain hotel back in Australia and saved himself the airfare. Not to mention all the work Holly had put into making the house welcoming for him. When the plan to get Nate over was originally being hatched, Gabe, being a bloke, had fully intended to put his brother up in the half of the house he had rented from Gigi, and subsequently from Holly until they got together. Holly, however, had other plans, claiming the other place was too dated and not homely enough. It hadn’t bothered Gabe, and possibly wouldn’t have bothered Nate, especially since it appeared his plans involved him barely looking up from his computer, but Holly was adamant that he should have a warm, welcoming home to come into and had insisted he stay in theirs which, now she’d finished, was like a high-end show home. It really was stunning, and she’d added lovely little touches like a small glass bowl of what she knew to be Nate’s favourite sweets on the coffee table and a couple of magazines in subjects Gabe had told her his brother was interested in. Not to mention arranging to stock the cupboards and fridge with his favourite foods. I felt a pang of sadness for Holly that all her hard work to make the man who was to be her brother-in-law feel welcome had apparently gone to waste.
Reaching my front door, I waved through the shop window at Flora, and headed in to the warmth of my flat. Collecting the post, I rifled casually through as I climbed the stairs, unlocked the interior door and headed into the kitchen, putting Nate McKinley firmly out of my mind. Opening the photo app, I added a #nofilter tag to one of the views of the bay I’d taken earlier and uploaded it. There was no location added. It was pretty unlikely anyone from my old life would ever discover my account – there were no exotic getaways, designer clothing or name drops posted on my feed, which meant it was far below the notice of the set I’d once been a part of. But I liked to make sure. I’d shut my old life away, separated myself from it entirely, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I’d deleted all of my previous social media accounts when I’d walked out on my old life and I’d been careful to keep things vague on my new Instagram. However, I happily scrolled the ones I followed and having my own again gave me an outlet to share my days beside the sea along with what filled those days.
Next, I chose the photo I’d taken of the sparkling bathroom and pressed ‘Share’ to my Instagram Stories. I added a cleaning gif and tagged the names of a couple of products I’d used, then pressed send. I noticed a couple of Direct Messages and opened the first, scanned it then moved on to the second, which was of a similar ilk. I’d had a few like this now and I deleted these two just as I’d deleted the others. I wasn’t entirely sure if they were genuine anyway. Both of these today purported to be journalists, looking for more information on me and my account, saying how they loved what I was doing and how they’d like to feature it in their magazines. The fact that I tried to use natural and eco cleaning products, and made my own products like those used decades ago in fancy houses, seemed to be quite a large part of the appeal.
But even if these things were genuine, which I had my doubts about – it was the internet, after all – I wasn’t interested. I was happy just doing my thing for me and me alone. Yes, I’d picked up quite a few followers along the way and the Likes and views did seem to be increasing but I wasn’t looking for any sort of recognition, and I certainly didn’t want to be featured in the media! I could just imagine my mother’s face now. Even with all the Botox and surgeries, I was pretty sure she’d manage to make her displeasure obvious.
My account was just something I enjoyed. A way of keeping a record and documenting the new life I’d created here. Perhaps it was also a way of documenting the new person I’d become. A woman with new interests – interests I’d chosen myself, rather than those expected of me. A woman with a job. A woman who actually wanted to get up in the morning. But that’s all it was ever meant to be – all I ever wanted it to. And all it ever would be. If these were genuine enquiries, they’d soon move on once they realised I wasn’t interested. Nobody had much of an attention span these days, and for every one person like me not seeking publicity there would be a hundred others ready to bite their hands off for it.
It had been quite a revelation to find I actually enjoyed cleaning. That said, I wasn’t in any great rush to take on a chambermaid job if I could help it – I’d read some real horror stories about what they had to deal with at times. But I did enjoy cleaning and tidying my little flat, making surfaces shine and everything look just so. I’d fully expected the novelty to wear off after a while, but it hadn’t, and the enthusiasm had only grown. I had vague recollections from my childhood of the housekeeper using special polishes and homemade concoctions to polish this and bring a shine to that, and although I’d been fascinated, once my mother had realised I’d been spending time with the staff she’d immediately put a stop to it. I’d missed those times. Mrs B had talked to me far more in one hour as she went about her work, me trailing behind her, than my mother would in an entire week. I’d thought about Mrs B as I’d begun learning the art of housekeeping, and wished I could remember all the tips and tricks she’d shared with me. When I couldn’t, I’d begun researching old methods of cleaning, reading up about products your grandmother would concoct – well, obviously not my own grandmother – but that generation. Accounts of how the grand houses kept their contents in top condition, both back in the day and now, fascinated me and I loved trying some of those techniques out in my little flat. I’d begun taking some photos documenting both my experiments and the end results of a good cleaning session, which provided a record of things that had worked (and those that hadn’t!) as well as a way to remind myself of the buzz I got when the work was done, and the sense of calm and accomplishment it brought.
A notification popped up on my phone. Someone had commented on my story. I opened the app and read the message.
Looking fabulous! Told you, love, you should be getting sponsored ??
Flora downstairs was a big fan of my account, and having successfully put some of the tips I’d discovered into use was now convinced I should be trying to turn myself into some sort of cleaning-guru-influencer.
‘Look at that Mrs Hinch,’ she’d said during our last chat about it all. ‘Book deals, products she uses flying off the shelves. TV appearances, too!’
My blood had chilled at the thought. I appreciated her enthusiasm but Flora didn’t know the whole story – nobody did – and I was aware my excuses probably sounded a little weak and evasive. ‘It’s not really for me, Flora. I’m more than happy where I am.’
‘Might save you some pennies,’ she added.
I gave a little shrug, half in agreement. I couldn’t disagree that that side didn’t appeal to me, and promised I’d think about it.
A little while after our discussion, I’d been contacted by a fairly new eco cleaning brand asking me if I’d like to try their new oven cleaner. This was one household task I wasn’t a huge fan of, mostly because all the products stank the place out, so their promise of natural ingredients and low odour had caught my attention. I agreed and gave them a fake name and my address, and then did a trial of it, with a short video. I didn’t speak on the film, and just added captions over the Story on IG but views went up, and the company must have been pleased as they sent me some more items to try. Since then, I’d had a few more trial products and I certainly wouldn’t have to spend much on any cleaning paraphernalia for the near future. So long as I kept my true identity to myself, it was a win-win situation.
* * *
My annoyance with Nate McKinley’s arrogant attitude didn’t last long. I’d learned to let things go far more easily since arriving in Wishington Bay over eighteen months ago. My time here had helped me discover what was truly important. I’d also discovered that when life hurled itself at you, you got a quick lesson in finding out who your real friends were. Which was why I’d ended up alone upon my arrival here. There was no one to tell where I was. They’d all picked a side – and it wasn’t mine. With hindsight, I realised that had been a good thing. At last I was no longer being shaped by other people’s opinions and actions. I was free to make my own choices, and although it had been hard initially, entirely terrifying in fact, it had also been incredibly freeing. Not to mention enlightening. I’d discovered a whole new world. I’d made true friends who didn’t care who I was, or what I had – the latter being very little. And the former wasn’t important. They knew who I was now, not who I’d once been. In the back of my mind, I did feel bad that I wasn’t being entirely honest with the people I’d come to call real friends. They were open with me and although I had begun to learn to trust and open up more since settling here, I still couldn’t bring myself to reveal everything. Not yet.
