When they’d ordered their food, and Granny had finished her second cocktail and requested an Afternoon Delight from the waitress, they both gazed out of the window, lost in thought. Holly heard a familiar voice and turned towards the entrance, where a couple had just entered: a well-dressed, handsome couple with broad smiles and the look of two people who were very fond of each other, if the way the woman touched the man’s arm as they followed the waitress to their table was anything to go by. As they took their seats, Holly positioned the menu at the edge of the table to hide her face, and leant forward, hoping they wouldn’t look over.
‘Holly? What on earth are you doing?’ Granny asked loudly, following it up with a hiccup.
‘Shh.’ Holly placed her finger over her lips and gestured at the table in the corner.
‘Who is it?’ Granny squinted. ‘I can’t see that far these days, and I brought the wrong specs.’
Holly winced as her grandmother’s words carried across the diner, but nothing happened, so she tried to relax. Perhaps he wouldn’t even see them. Perhaps they could have their lunch then leave unseen.
But when their food arrived, she pushed hers around the plate. Her stomach had closed over and the salmon and dill fishcakes and rustic potatoes had lost their appeal. It was all she could do not to turn and stare at Rich and the beautiful woman he was having lunch with.
It was all she could do not to burst into confused and broken-hearted tears.
Would she ever get over him?
* * *
Rich looked up from the menu, still smiling at a comment Sam had made about juggling everything in her life. He couldn’t help but admire her and how she managed her career, her extensive and rather demanding family and the work she did for several mental health charities. She was very caring and supportive, and if she hadn’t come along when she had, he might be in a very different situation.
His eyes drifted over the people in the restaurant and fell on a young woman with a short blonde bob sitting at a table with an elderly lady. The younger woman was helping the other one into her coat, and struggling by the look of things.
Was it…?
Yes, it was.
Holly and her granny, and the pram. She must have the baby with her.
He got up and excused himself, then hurried over to their table.
‘Holly.’
She froze, holding her grandma’s arms in the sleeves of the coat behind her, like some kind of straitjacket. Then she looked up at him, and colour rose in her cheeks.
‘I thought it was you.’ He smiled, but Holly’s mouth remained set in a tight line.
‘Richard!’ Glenda Morton grinned, revealing a sprig of broccoli that was stuck in her front teeth. ‘Hellooo.’ Her eyes were glassy and her lipstick had been applied generously around her thin lips; so generously that she could have given a clown a run for its money.
‘Are you all right, Glenda?’ he asked, concerned that Holly’s grandma had been rendered unstable by her grief.
‘Oh yes, darling boy! I’ve had such a grand afternoon. I’ve had a Slow Comfortable Screw and a Screaming Orgasm.’
‘What?’ Rich ran a finger under his collar.
Glenda’s eyes widened. ‘The Sex on the Beach was out of this world!’
‘Granny’s had a few cocktails.’ Holly raised her eyebrows.
‘Oh, right. Of course. I thought… Gosh…’ Rich released a breath through closed teeth as he tried to stifle his laughter. ‘So you’ve had a nice lunch?’ he asked, his eyes now on Holly, his fingers itching to tuck away the stray strands of blonde hair that had fallen over her cheek.
Where had that impulse come from? Clearly old habits died hard.
‘It was lovely, thank you, but Holly didn’t eat much of hers.’
‘I did, Granny.’ Holly finished getting Glenda’s arms into her sleeves, then turned her round and buttoned the front of her coat.
‘No you didn’t.’ Glenda hiccuped. ‘I saw you pushing it around your plate and trying to hide it under your napkin.’
‘Well I was still quite full from breakfast.’
Glenda shook her head. ‘One minute you were fine, and the next it was as if you’d seen a ghost.’
Rich cleared his throat, concerned. Holly had always enjoyed her food; it was one of the things he’d loved about her. She didn’t pick at salads or follow fads; she ate well and it showed in her eyes and her skin. Or it had. She was so pale now, and he was certain that she’d need to eat properly to keep her strength up. Caring for a young baby couldn’t be easy.
‘Why don’t you come over to my table and meet Sam? She’s my—’
‘No!’ Holly’s reply was sharp and icy, cutting right through him. ‘We can’t. We have to go.’ She glanced in the direction of Rich’s table and he thought he saw her shiver, but it was so quick that he couldn’t be certain.
‘Okay. Maybe another time.’ He stepped towards the pram. ‘How’s Luke?’
‘He’s fine.’
Rich gazed down at the baby and the baby peered up at him, his tiny mouth forming a perfect O. ‘He’s…’ What was the right thing to say? Beautiful? Cute? Small? Practically bald? He didn’t have much experience of babies at all. And this one was his!
‘I’ll see you later as planned?’ Holly looked at him, and then away quickly, as if she couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact.
He nodded. ‘Be good to catch up.’
‘Yes. It will.’
Then she turned away, wrapping her free arm around Glenda’s shoulders as they made their way out of the diner.
Rich watched them leave and cross the car park. He hoped Holly would manage to get Glenda into the car okay. He considered following them outside, but thought better of it. The tilt of Holly’s chin and the way she’d all but avoided eye contact suggested that she didn’t want his help or concern.
He returned to Sam with a heavy heart. Getting through this afternoon might be even tougher than he’d first anticipated.
Chapter 7
Holly walked briskly along the beachfront at Penhallow Sands, enjoying the sensation of the spring sunshine on her face and the wind in her hair.
Above her seagulls soared, screeching to one another then swooping into the waves, chasing after some tasty morsel or other. The sky was a flawless blue, and looking up hurt her eyes, as if she’d been indoors in the shadows then come outside for the first time in a long time. She blinked as she adjusted to the bright coastal light. She had her sunglasses in her bag but she didn’t want to put them on just yet; she wanted to enjoy seeing everything properly, unhindered by lenses.
The tide was coming in and its slow movement was hypnotic, reassuring. This would happen every day for as long as the earth existed; for a long time after Holly had gone. She shivered. Such a maudlin thought wasn’t conducive to happiness, but she knew it was linked to her recent loss and to the fact that she’d returned to her childhood home, the place where she’d had to accept death early on with the passing of her mum. It was a part of life, the one thing that was guaranteed; but now, more than ever, Holly wanted to be around for a long time. Having Luke had made her determined to be there for him for as long as he needed her.
Could she come home permanently and raise Luke here? It certainly was a beautiful place. Yes, in high summer it got busy, but even so… There was the pretty, award-winning beach flanked by the steep grey cliffs where birds nested and reared their young. The cliffs were like muscular arms, cradling the beach and providing protection from the expanse of the sea that lay beyond. On clear summer days, the sea and skyline were hard to distinguish from each other, their blue mingling so perfectly. But as twilight fell, and the sky was dyed with hues of lavender and peach, the water seemed to turn navy blue, a base colour that had seeped from the blended palette above. The view was breathtaking and Holly had missed it, had missed the sense of freedom that came with living here.
She had gone to Exeter because she knew and liked the location. The university there had
been one of the places she’d looked at as a possibility for further study. Exeter was far enough away, yet also not too far – it provided the security of giving her the space she needed while also being only a few hours away from her family. She had liked the vibrancy of city life, but Penhallow Sands was home.
And there was nothing quite like home.
She had needed this: to get outdoors and get her heart beating naturally, instead of that awful anxious pounding it had been doing since she’d seen Rich and that woman at the diner in Newquay. She’d been happy enough sitting there with Granny, finding her comments amusing and hoping that Granny was enjoying herself too. Then Rich had walked in with that beautiful woman, and Holly’s stomach had turned over. Her lunch had been wasted, her throat too tight to swallow more than sips of water. She’d been tempted then to order a cocktail, could have murdered a Bloody Mary, but she was responsible for Luke and her granny, so she’d had to manage her feelings instead.
She had no right to care if Rich was in a new relationship. What they’d had was long gone, and as she’d found out last year, he’d never cared about her in the way she had done for him. She had always been the one to make all the effort, to phone and text, to book restaurants and romantic breaks in cosy cabins, to send Valentine’s cards and pick out Christmas and birthday gifts that would have a special meaning. If she was being honest with herself, a lot of the time it had been as though Rich was absent from their relationship. She wondered now if he had merely been keeping his options open in case someone better came along. Someone like that woman in the diner… what had he called her? Sam…
She stopped suddenly, nearly running over a dog that had dashed in front of the pram.
‘Stupid dog!’ she spat, her frustration channelled towards the scruffy mongrel but stemming from her feelings towards Rich.
‘So sorry, Holly!’ A woman flew past her and grabbed the dog by the scruff, then clipped a lead to its collar. ‘You naughty boy. You could have been run over.’
‘Fran?’
Her friend straightened up and nodded. ‘Yeah… thought I’d take this boy for a walk on the beach, see how his recall was, and before I knew it… whoosh! Off he went.’
‘Is he yours?’
‘I’m fostering him at the moment, but if no one comes forward to adopt him, I might well have to keep him.’
‘Is he a mongrel?’
‘A lurcher, and from his shaggy coat and small build, I’d say he’s most likely a cross between a greyhound and a terrier. He’s daft as a brush.’
The dog tilted his head to one side and gazed at Fran, then cocked his leg and peed over the wheel of the pram.
Holly grimaced. ‘He clearly has no manners.’
‘He’s barely more than a pup; he was found wandering around an abandoned warehouse on an industrial estate. Goodness only knows what he’s been through. He’ll learn… he just needs love and patience.’
Holly looked at the dog, who was now sitting at Fran’s feet as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, then back at Fran, who was smiling warmly.
‘Anyway, Hols, how are you doing?’
To her horror, Holly’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Sweetheart, what is it?’ Fran reached out and rubbed her arm. ‘All a bit much for you? Come here.’
She pulled Holly into a hug, and they stood that way for a while, until Holly managed to stop sniffling.
‘It’s okay, Hols. You’re bound to feel rubbish. Losing your grandpa and coming back here with a young baby was always going to be tough.’
Holly nodded, then pulled a tissue from the changing bag hooked over the handles of the pram and wiped her eyes. ‘It’s a bit more than that, though.’
‘Rich too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on, I know what you need.’
Fran slid her arm through Holly’s and they crossed the road, making their way along the path that led behind the row of shops on Beach Street, and along Dolphin Drive until they reached Shell’s Shack.
‘How did you know?’ Holly laughed as Fran held the door open and she pushed the pram inside.
‘Nothing like one of Shell’s shakes to make you feel better.’
She hoped Fran was right.
* * *
The smell in Shell’s Shack was heavenly. A combination of sweet and savoury pastries, freshly baked bread and cakes. Shell used locally sourced produce as far as possible, but her inspiration came from around the world, and in the summer holidays she ran cookery classes for children from the village and those holidaying in the area.
Holly wheeled the pram over to a table in the corner and put the brake on, then removed her coat and sat down. Fran joined her after she’d said hello to Shell and her daughter, Bella.
‘This place never changes.’ Holly looked around her at the eclectic decor. The low ceiling beams were draped with fishing nets and colourful shells looped together with lengths of blue string. Dried lavender and rosemary bouquets filled sea glass vases on the small round tables and the open fireplace to the right of the counter. There were a variety of lobster pots and an anchor on the hearth; above it was a driftwood mirror complete with sea horse carvings. The plump cushions on the chairs had herb prints with their Latin names, like Lavandula and Ocimum basilicum. Against the one wall was a two-seater sofa covered with a deep burgundy and red patchwork quilt, and in front of it sat a table made entirely of driftwood.
‘It is cosy and quaint.’ Fran nodded. ‘Sit.’ She pointed at the dark wooden floorboards, and the dog stared at them then at her.
‘He doesn’t look like he wants to.’
‘Training doesn’t happen overnight, sadly.’ Fran didn’t look sad, though; she looked quite amused, as if the pup’s antics were all part of the fun.
‘Sit!’ She tried again, and this time the dog obeyed. ‘You’re such a good boy!’ she cooed at him, rubbing his fluffy ears.
‘It looks as though he’s smiling.’ Holly peered over the table.
‘Of course he is.’ Fran frowned. ‘What’s that grunting?’
‘Oh…’
Holly checked on Luke. He was stirring after his nap, and as she gazed at him, she felt that familiar tug in her chest. She would do anything for this child, anything at all to make sure that he was happy and safe, that he had the best life she could give him.
She unbuckled the harness of the seat and lifted him out. He grunted again and she wrinkled her nose.
‘Filling his nappy,’ she whispered to Fran as she grabbed the changing bag. ‘Won’t be long.’
‘What’ll you have?’ Fran called after her, waving the menu.
‘Surprise me.’
In the toilets, which were fully equipped with a baby changing unit complete with side guards and nappy bin, Holly changed Luke, then washed her hands and picked him up again. As she unlocked the door, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused.
Seeing herself holding a small baby never ceased to surprise her, as if she was living someone else’s life. It wasn’t that she’d never wanted children, because she had, but Luke hadn’t been planned. She’d thought she’d have a beautiful home, a secure job, a loving husband and all the traditional things her grandpa would have expected of her before she had a baby. But it hadn’t happened that way. Luke had come along as a surprise, but she couldn’t love him more if she tried. He was her world now and everything was about him, for him, because of him.
And that was why he had to know his daddy too. She couldn’t allow the situation to continue as it was. Luke had a right to know Rich and Rich had a right to know Luke, even though the thought of how it would all work filled her with unease – especially now that there was another woman on the scene. What if she didn’t like babies, or what if she was mean to Luke? What if she had babies of her own and Luke ended up feeling left out or abandoned?
Her chest squeezed as she imagined her son being hurt emotionally or physically, and that urge to run resurfaced in her. At least in Exeter it was
just the two of them, with fortnightly visits from her dad. At least she controlled their routine, their environment and their social circle. Not that it had been much of a circle. But here, back in Penhallow Sands, things were out of her control and there would be other people involved in Luke’s upbringing. How would she cope with that?
She just didn’t know. But for Luke’s sake, she had to try.
Back at the table, Fran was reading something on her mobile and the pup was lying down at her feet. Fran was so pretty, with her reddish-brown hair, thick-rimmed black glasses and bright red lipstick. Her purple tunic with slashes of blue on the bell sleeves reminded Holly of the clothing she’d seen on a documentary about the Tudors. She loved Fran’s dress sense and her short hair. She’d almost had her own completely chopped, but decided to see how she got on with a bob first.
‘All clean?’ Fran asked as Holly buckled Luke back into the car seat.
‘Yup. But…’ Holly held her nose, ‘stinky.’
‘That bad?’
‘You wouldn’t believe how bad considering he only drinks milk. I mean, it’s not like he had a curry last night or anything.’
‘Dogs are much easier.’
‘Really?’
Fran pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘Really. At least they do it outside, then it’s a case of pooper scoop and into the waste digester.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a bit like a bottomless bucket that I’ve buried in the garden. I have four, actually, dotted around, because the garden’s so big that otherwise I’d have to carry the poop for miles. I have to add an enzyme to the buckets once a week, which turns everything liquid, and it drains into the soil.’
‘Eww!’
‘Hey, don’t knock it! We have to think of the planet for future generations. With four dogs, five cats and two bearded dragons, how else would I dispose of everything? I’d be putting out hundreds of bags of rubbish, and that would be such a bad thing.’
‘Of course it would.’
The House at Greenacres Page 8