The Butterfly Cove Collection - Sarah Bennett

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his desire to stay. He imagined offering pre-dinner drinks to guests on the patio in the summer as Mia laid one of her heavenly meals out on the dining room table. Richard had pointed out the battered dining room table and chairs in the barns earlier that day, and Daniel wanted to examine them further.

      The high-backed chairs had tapestry cushions on the seats, faded and threadbare. Richard had mentioned that Madeline had a project planned to embroider new covers, recreating the original designs. Daniel decided he would get them out into a decent patch of light and take a series of photographs to help Madeline.

      ***

      Mia took another mouthful of her dinner as she flipped idly through her notebook. She hadn’t decided which room she would tackle next although she thought that it would be best to stick with the first floor and get at least three more bedrooms completed. That would take them through March and hopefully towards some slightly warmer weather and they could then turn their attention to the main rooms on the ground floor. She was half-conscious that her thoughts on the work ahead were now being framed in her mind as things that they needed to do.

      The original deadline of a week that she had set for Daniel was up in the morning and she had already decided not to mention it. They were rubbing along together fine and Mia didn’t feel inclined to raise the subject again. She glanced across the table and wondered what had Daniel so deep in thought. His focus sharpened back from the middle distance and his mouth quirked, a flash of white teeth showing through the dark, close-cropped hair of his beard. She’d never considered herself a fan of facial hair, but the style suited his strong bone structure.

      ‘I think we should take a day off tomorrow, Daniel. I need to have another look upstairs at the other three en suite rooms as I decide which one I want to work on next. I’ll leave the master suite for the time being though. Now that we’ve finished your room, I want to revisit some of the designs I’ve been mulling over,’ Mia said.

      He gave her a funny lopsided grin, as though she’d said something to amuse him, but his answer was serious. ‘That would work perfectly for me as I was hoping to explore out in the barn a bit in the morning. I saw some fantastic pieces out there and I want to take a few shots if that’s all right with you?’

      Mia was momentarily confused and then remembered the camera he’d been carrying when he’d first arrived. She wondered if photography was a hobby or something more.

      ‘Sure, whatever you like,’ Mia said with a nod as she rose from the table, gathering their dirty plates to begin the ritual of tidying up after their meal. Daniel got up to help her and switched the kettle on, both settling into an already familiar routine as they split the chore between them. The kitchen was soon clean and tidy and they each clutched a mug of hot tea. ‘I might take this up with me, if that’s all right?’ Daniel said around a half-stifled yawn.

      ‘Sounds like a plan.’ Mia gathered her notebook and samples and ducked under Daniel’s arm as he reached over to flip the kitchen light off. He followed her up to the first floor and she paused briefly to exchange goodnights before carrying on to the top floor. He turned towards his bedroom.

      Mia stood at the large bay window and stared over the back garden and out to the sea beyond. They had been graced with a sunny day, although the wind was fierce and white clouds scudded across the pale blue sky. The sea was a stampede of white horses crashing into the dark sand.

      Sheltered behind the thick glazing, the sun felt good on her face and Mia imagined sitting curled up in the window seat she was planning for the wide window area. There was a local joinery company based in the village—a father and son team—and they had already made an excellent job of repairing the rotten porch steps at the front of the house.

      They’d quoted to repair the internal staircases and the work was booked in for April. They had also been full of helpful advice about refurbishing the wooden floors.

      It had been down to them that Mia had decided not to replace a lot of the carpets once she’d had them ripped out and disposed of. Not one of the carpets had been worth salvaging. The few that weren’t rotting away had been filthy and such a hideous collection of patterns and colours, Mia hoped never to see their like again.

      Mr Robinson and his son Jordy were both calm, steady men and together with Richard, they’d helped Mia with the initial clearance and strip of the furnishings. They were all of a type—the men in the area—something about being bred close to the sea, according to Madeline. It was hard to get an overinflated sense of one’s own importance when faced with the vastness of the open water on a daily basis.

      The doors to the main barn swung open, the movement catching Mia’s eye. Daniel was exploring again. He loved the barn and spent any free time they granted themselves poking around inside. She watched in fascination as Daniel carried out each of the dozen heavy dining chairs, including the two carvers that graced each end of the vast, wind-out cherrywood dining table.

      It was an original Victorian piece and Mr Robinson had nearly wept at the sight of its sorry condition. He was an old-school carpenter, taught by his father, who’d been a boat builder. He’d moved to Exeter to train under a master craftsman when he showed a natural affinity to shaping wood. His training had included French polishing and the table was waiting patiently under a waterproof tarpaulin until Mr Robinson could restore it to its former glory.

      She watched Daniel pace around the chairs in the yard, snapping shots from all different angles, making sure he took plenty of close-ups of the faded embroidery seat covers. They were a cornucopia of flowers, birds, fruit—each one unique and although they blended as a group, there were several distinctly different styles as though stitched by more than one hand. Perhaps a fireside project for the women of a family who had once graced the house?

      Mia unlatched and shoved up the large sash window in the centre of the bay and shivered as a blast of cold air rushed in. She burrowed a little deeper into the over-large Aran sweater, which was another of Jamie’s items that she hadn’t been able to part with. The sleeves were double-rolled to stop them slipping over her hands and it fell to her knees. She stuck her head through the gap and leaned out as Daniel took a few steps closer to the house.

      ‘What exactly do you think you are doing with my chairs, Daniel Fitzwilliams?’ she asked with a mock-stern tone to her voice.

      ‘Richard mentioned yesterday that Madeline would be working on new covers for them and I thought it would help her to have a few pictures, that’s all. You don’t mind, do you? I checked the yard and made sure I put them in dry spots…’

      Daniel trailed off as Mia ducked back inside slamming down the sash window behind her. Okay, clearly she did mind. He placed his camera on the barn steps and returned the chairs carefully to where he’d found them before securing the main doors. He picked his camera back up and hurried towards the house. He toed off his boots in the mudroom, already well trained to the ‘no shoes in the house’ rule.

      Slipping and sliding across the wooden floors, he raced to the first floor. He cornered into the back bedroom and dropped to his knees in horror in front of where Mia was curled up under the bay window, rocking back and forth as fat, salty tears rolled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and pressed them into her bent knees at his arrival, as though she didn’t want him to see her.

      Feeling completely helpless, he crouched down. She was trying to say something, but he couldn’t catch her words, which were muffled in the jumper and punctuated with sobs and gasps. Her distress was a palpable entity and it clutched at his heart. His instincts strained to gather her into his arms, but her defensive body language warned him off so he settled for a tentative hand on her back, which he moved in slow circles.

      He didn’t speak and didn’t try to make sense of what she was trying to say, he just rubbed his hand around and around until the storm of her weeping lessened and finally eased to a few hiccups and gulps. He let his hand slide up to gently cup the nape of her neck and let it rest there.

      Daniel

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