Do Not Disturb – Part 3. Cressida McLaughlin

… after he told me that I must have thought he was an idiot, treating him like that, making him believe that we all liked him. I tried to tell him that my feelings were real, but he left. He didn’t stay in Starcross last night and then, this morning, he got one of the other guests to return his key and his credit-card details, so I can take payment for his stay.’

      ‘Ouch!’ Molly whispered. ‘He’s hurting; that’s understandable. But once we explain to him that you got it wrong, that there never was a campaign, that we were only trying to make him feel welcome, then it will be fine.’ Molly’s voice was bright, but Robin could tell that her friend didn’t believe it would be that easy.

      ‘He was so upset. He said he had begun to fall for me, that he had started to think about his future here.’

      ‘He’s upset because he cares. As hard as it is to hear, that’s a good sign. If he wasn’t bothered about your friendship, about what was happening, then he would have shrugged, said we were all bastards, and moved on. He cares about you, so there’s hope that we can rescue the situation.’

      Robin ate a second pink wafer biscuit, thinking how typical it was of Molly to have biscuits that matched the decoration of her beauty parlour. Was it possible that Molly was right, and Will’s feelings for her meant there was still a chance for them, or had her assumed betrayal gone too deep?

      ‘Let me talk to him,’ Molly said, patting her hand.

      ‘But he thinks you were behind the charm offensive.’

      ‘So I’ll tell him the truth. And if he’s a stubborn bugger, I’ll tell him again and again until he believes it. He’ll listen to me because he isn’t falling for me. He’s probably not feeling very rational about you at the moment.’

      ‘You think that’ll work?’

      Molly nodded. ‘I do. Will’s a nice guy – you wouldn’t be head over heels for him if he wasn’t – so he’ll listen to reason eventually.’

      Robin stared at the tabletop, wondering if she could let her friend try to fix things. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Molly – she had more fire and determination in her petite frame than Robin did – but would she say everything that Robin wanted to convey? Could she give her this task, which, while daunting, would potentially be the difference between Will forgiving her and never talking to her again?

      ‘Thank you for offering,’ she said. ‘But I have to do this. What will he think of me if I can’t even face up to what I’ve done?’

      Molly appraised her, her blue eyes serious. ‘I totally get it. Of course you need to speak to him. But that doesn’t stop me feeling partly responsible.’ She pressed her hand against her chest.

      Robin shook her head. ‘You didn’t get the wrong end of the stick, and you didn’t let Will read your text messages.’

      ‘What this boils down to, Robin, is a simple misunderstanding. We haven’t been using Will as a weapon against Tim’s designs on the house, we’ve been kind to him, but he – with some inadvertent help from you – thinks that our friendship is fake. Doesn’t it sound straightforward when I say it like that?’

      ‘It does,’ Robin agreed, exhaling. ‘I’ll go and see him later, and that’s what I’ll tell him. Thank you, Molly. I bet you thought you were done picking pieces of me off the floor.’

      ‘I’m your friend,’ Molly said. ‘I’ll put you back together again as often as you need it. But this one, I’m sure, is an easy fix. Let me know as soon as you’ve spoken to him.’ She gave Robin such a reassuring grin that she allowed herself to feel a glimmer of hope.

      Maybe it was that simple. Maybe, once she had explained it to Will, he would see that she had been confused, and realise that nobody’s kindness had been engineered to get him to hold on to the house, least of all hers. Molly sent her back to the guesthouse in a sharp, sunny breeze that suggested the bad weather had been a temporary blip.

      Robin found the tasks she needed to do around the guesthouse, cleaning and polishing, replenishing tea, coffee and biscuits and turning down the sheets, cathartic. She went into Starcross, but decided she wouldn’t do the full changeover clean just yet, not until she had spoken to Will. All the sheets got changed on a Saturday anyway, so longer-term guests had fresh bedding too, and she didn’t want to assume he was gone for good – she’d rather believe the opposite.

      She wanted to wait until evening, when Will was more likely to have finished work on Tabitha’s house for the day, and she wouldn’t have to talk while he was sorting through drawers full of paperwork or wedged half under the kitchen sink. She fiddled with the timer in Starcross, making the pinprick lights dim in and out, and tried to convince herself she wasn’t putting it off, taking time to summon up the courage to see him. If she waited until she felt completely ready, then it would never happen.

      As dusk began to slip gently over the sea, muting the pinks and peaches of sunset into silky blue, the guesthouse was gleaming. Some of the guests were in their rooms, and Charles and Elisabeth, the old couple from Orkney, were enjoying a night at Taverna on the Bay on Robin’s recommendation. Outside, the promenade lamps glowed softly, competing against the growing gloom.

      Robin felt a sudden determination. She would explain everything to Will and he’d forgive her, and then she would make it up to the rest of the street. They had no inkling that she’d done anything wrong, but she felt guilty for believing they’d all be so underhand, tricking Will with fake generosity. She had to make it up to them somehow, even if they never knew her motivation. She would do something that showed she was part of the community, that she could enter into the spirit as they had done, and that she appreciated the kindness they’d shown her when she returned to Campion Bay, even if Molly had had to remind her of it.

      With a positive sequence of events lodged firmly in her head, and her palms only a little bit sweaty, Robin slipped on her ballet pumps and quietly left the house.

       Chapter Two

      The curtains of number four were drawn, but there was a slender line of golden light at one side of the window, where one had been pulled too far over. Robin took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and lifted the knocker, banging it down twice. She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease her anxiety, wanting to appear calm in front of him.

      After a few moments she heard footsteps approaching from inside. The latch clicked and the door swung inwards, Will’s tall frame appearing in shadow, silhouetted against the hall light. He immediately turned away from her and started to close the door.

      ‘Will, wait—’

      ‘I have nothing to say to you.’

      ‘Please.’ She took a step forward, placing her foot over the threshold.

      She could just make out his glance towards her foot, his face creasing in irritation as he yanked the door back open.

      ‘Please, Will,’ Robin tried again. ‘Let me explain.’

      ‘Molly’s text did that perfectly well, thanks. I have to get on.’ He looked at her foot again, but Robin stood her ground. He took a step towards her, his sigh loud, his face suddenly bathed in the glow from the street light.

      Robin stared at him. She couldn’t help it. Only the day before, he had seemed relaxed, happy, laughing with her as they ran back to the guesthouse, the press of his lips so tender as he’d kissed her.

      Now, his hair was, again, damp, as if he’d not long emerged from the shower, but he hadn’t shaved, and the dark smudges under his eyes told of a sleepless night. His expression was dark, closed off, and his hands, which had so recently caressed her face, were bunched into fists.

      Robin swallowed. ‘Molly’s text didn’t tell the truth,’ she said. ‘She’s my friend, we have jokes and we— It seemed awful, I know that. It seemed like there was this