‘What?’
‘They’ve moved down here, to Devon. Their house wasn’t on the market for long. A couple without a sales chain bought it for the asking price.’
Why had they cut themselves off so completely? And that… that was our family home.
‘But what if—’
‘You can get in touch with me, Elizabeth, but only in an absolute emergency.’
‘What about if they ever need to contact me? I can give you my new address and landline number to pass on. I live above Kismet Tattoos now where I work and—’
‘They won’t.’
‘Aunt Fiona. Please. Let’s sort this out. This is crazy.’
‘It’s too late.’ She sucked in her breath. ‘You’ve no idea how much you’ve hurt them, especially your mother.’
‘So tell them I called. Surely we can work this out? Please. I don’t understand…’
‘Your mother deserves to put herself first after too many years of blaming herself.’
‘Years? What do you mean?’
The phone went dead. With clumsy fingers I rang again but no one picked up.
12
Now
Some cultures used urine mixed with coal dust to make tattoo ink
It was time. I sat down on the sofa, took a deep breath and opened the envelope. The letter shook slightly as I read Dad’s words.
Dear Elizabeth,
Remember when you were little and argued with friends? We always told you to be the bigger person and apologise first – even if the disagreement wasn’t necessarily your fault. And if they still wouldn’t talk to you or were mean – if they couldn’t forget the argument… remember that phrase of ours?
‘Those who mind don’t matter. Those who matter don’t mind,’ I whispered.
Oh Elizabeth. You matter more than words can say. And we shouldn’t have minded so much about what happened at the party. You reached out afterwards but we didn’t reach back. It’s just that Anne… she’s been through so much. I had to put her first. I hope one day you’ll understand when you meet someone who becomes more important than your own happiness.
Last week I had a heart scare and have been put on medication. It’s made me realise that anything could happen without warning…
My throat felt as if I’d swallowed broken glass.
Anne misses you as much as me. Last week I caught her drinking warm milk in the middle of the night. Remember her making that for you when you couldn’t sleep? She caught my eye and simply said your name.
I’m sorry about the things we said. That boyfriend, Ash – over time I’ve thought how he seemed like a decent chap, supporting you like that. And we should never have let Aunt Fiona get involved. You were never a disappointment.
When I’m feeling stronger it’s time for us to be more open — about so much… There are things we haven’t told you which might explain things a little more. What happened in a little village called Leafton and how the Strachans badly affected your mum and… how… how we did a terrible thing… but I’m rambling now. Sorry. None of this must seem to make sense to you, Elizabeth, but I promise that one day we’ll talk about everything and how Leafton is a place we’ll never forget.
I’m feeling tired now but I’ll write again. These letters are just an insurance policy in case the worst happens before things get sorted. You’ll probably never get to read them, but if you do, never doubt, we both love you very, very much.
Dad X
Several times I turned the paper over, scouring both sides.
They missed me? They loved me? I wasn’t a disappointment?
A terrible thing… what did that mean? A single tear dropped onto the page, diluting my name at the top so that only the letters beth were visible. Mum never liked my name being shortened. I rang George who listened, even though it was late, and I pretended I wasn’t crying. He had no idea who the Strachans were. I didn’t ask him about the terrible thing. I don’t know why. Those two words scared me. He suggested I rang Aunt Fiona but I knew that was pointless. I’d sent her a card this last Christmas in the hope we could meet and talk things through, six months after the funeral, but just like the card I’d sent my parents six years ago, it came straight back unopened.
I flicked off the light and lay down, sinking into the sofa’s cushions that felt as if they were trying to hug me better. The cottage’s floorboards creaked goodnight as they contracted after another warm day. I fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed of the younger reflection of me in the mirror. I also dreamt Dad was still alive and visited. A knocking rapped loudly at the door. I opened it. We hugged and the years of being apart melted away between us.
But the knocking didn’t stop. I opened my eyes. What if the funeral had actually been a mistake and Dad was still out there somewhere and he’d come to find me and…? Logic returned as I took my bearings. I picked up the letter that had fallen on the floor, face tight with dried tears. I stumbled into the hallway and opened the front door. Ben wore his postman uniform and his bag was empty.
‘What’s the time?’ I mumbled.
‘Midday. You must have partied harder than I thought. Do you want me to drive you to pick up Taz? That way you could sit in the back with his carrier on the way back and… Is everything okay?’
I rolled my lips together.
‘I don’t know about you,’ he said brightly, ‘but I’m parched. How about I make us both a cuppa?’
I went back to the sofa. Ten minutes later he appeared with two mugs and the remains of a packet of biscuits. He put them down on the coffee table and sat next to me. Just his presence made me feel a little better.
‘What’s happened?’
The tea tasted sweet and hot.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
I shook my head.
‘Are you unwell? Shall I call the doctor? You look—’
‘Like crap?’
‘You don’t look yourself, and certainly not in the frame of mind to pick up a kitten. I know Taz is spirited but you don’t want to frighten him.’
I smiled and straight after my eyes filled again.
I shoved the letter into his hands. ‘My parents used to own this cottage. They both died last year. I got this from my solicitor yesterday. Dad wrote it not long before he passed away.’ I told Ben about the day they went swimming, how a freak current had carried them out to sea and neither had survived. ‘We hadn’t been on good terms, my family… everything was messed up. I never knew about this place but this letter shows that Dad wanted to explain why it was kept a secret.’
‘Lizzie, I’m so sorry.’ He rubbed my arm and then read the letter. ‘If it’s any help Strachan is a particularly Scottish surname – a colleague is called that and is very proud of his roots.’
I thought hard. ‘Mum spoke of a good Scottish friend she made at university but her surname was McDonald. I remember because she used to get teased about being called the same as the burger restaurant.’
‘Did your parents ever live here?’
‘No, it was just part of their investment portfolio. Their will instructed that the other properties be sold off, some of the money going to me, some to charity. This place was left to my Aunt Fiona but from what I can tell, she didn’t want it.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s all so confusing.’
He read the letter again. ‘And this terrible thing…?’
I shrugged.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ He shook his head. ‘But from personal experience I know that family life is rarely straightforward. My dad might have stayed with Mum but didn’t thanks to… complications caused by other people. Dealing with that used to be hard enough. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.’
‘They died before I had a chance to apologise, face to face… before I could tell them that yes…’ The words choked. ‘That I still loved them too. This letter… finally it sounds as if they were ready to meet and—’
‘Who knows?’ A hard look crossed his face. ‘That was only your dad talking. May
be things would have worked out, maybe they wouldn’t. There’s no point fretting about what might have been, believe me, I’ve been there and it screws you up.’ He handed the letter back and ate a biscuit whole. Vigorously he chewed before knocking back his drink. ‘You get ready. I’ll rustle up some lunch. Then you and me can go and get Taz.’
‘But—’
‘No arguments, Lizzie. Humour me. It’s sheer joy to boss someone else around when most of the time it’s my mother doing that to me.’
I used my arm as a handkerchief. ‘I meant to find a pet shop this morning. I still haven’t got in a litter tray or kitten food.’
‘The big out of town supermarket has got a pets section. We’ll drop in on the way. Not much smells worse than cat urine in your carpet. Right, get going.’
I sniffed and went to get up but before I could he drew me into his arms and hugged me tight. I relaxed into his body and sobbed quietly feeling somehow safe to do that in his arms – safe in a way I hadn’t for so long. It didn’t make sense; Ben and I didn’t know each other well, but he felt solid, strong and yet so gentle as he ran a hand over my hair. It reminded me of how it used to feel when I was little and Mum and Dad would hug everything better. I didn’t want to let go.
Eventually I pulled away slightly. I liked how he’d let me decide when the closeness was over. We stared into each other’s eyes, his full of concern; I noticed the especially dark freckle at the corner of his lips. For a second, I wanted to press my lips against his and lose myself, forget my life that had become such a mess. My pulse raced as I felt a magnetic pull.
A cold shower was exactly what I needed and I came back down in fifteen, the water having diluted my sense of shock. I’d grabbed a t-shirt and jeans and pulled a brush through my hair before searching for a notebook and pen. I sat at the table thinking how much the cottage must appreciate the delicious smell of frying eggs, after so many months of the kitchen standing bare.
‘It’s time I got practical. There’s clearly a story behind Streamside Cottage so I’m going to investigate.’ I sipped the fresh cup of tea Ben put in front of me. ‘First of all, I’m going to need to interview Jill.’
Ben found cutlery and placed it on the table. He put down two plates of eggs on toast and sat opposite. Everything about him was so easy.
‘Thanks. This looks great. Now, at the party your mum hinted that there’s been plenty of skirmishes here – her words – over the years.’ I dug my knife into one of the eggs. A rich yellow puddle pooled across the plate. I took a mouthful and reached for the pen. I opened the notebook. ‘Then there was the fire Caroline told me about and…’ Furiously I scribbled.
Ben’s large hand covered mine. ‘Eat, Lizzie. All that can wait a few minutes.’
I stared at his arm as my hand tingled. ‘Your freckles… they’re incredible, the different shapes and shades of colour…’
‘Are you having a laugh?’ Ben took away his hand.
‘Of course not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…’
He paused. ‘It’s okay. Guess I’m a bit sensitive, I’ve never thought about them as being attractive. Red hair and freckles are made fun of at school. Teenagers and all that.’
‘I think they’re lovely.’
Ben gave a tentative smile and our chat moved onto the party. I mentioned Trish’s early departure. He didn’t know what her bad news was.
‘What’s the story with Neve?’ I cut the toast, butter dripping onto the plate, each mouthful feeding my determination to find out what my dad had been trying to say. ‘She was with someone at the pub – I think I saw him at the supermarket where she works. Have they been dating long?’
‘That’s Alan – he’s the manager there. Neve was due to go to university a couple of years ago but her dad lost his job, so she took a gap year to help out with bills until he found his feet. She never left in the end.’
We chatted about other shops in the village until I finished and pushed away my plate. I ran a hand over my notebook. ‘What can you tell me about Streamside Cottage?’
Ben picked up his mug with both hands and slowly drank from it. ‘It’s old – about two hundred years. You’d have to check the deeds.’
‘Good point. I’ve got a box filled with all their paperwork, although it’s back at my flat. I had no idea it had been built such a long time ago.’
‘It’s bigger and been around longer than the rest in our road. A bomb landed during the Second World War and decimated the area. This was the only building left standing, although there are some cottages from the same era if you carry on over the junction at the top of the high street. I’d bought one with my last girlfriend but when we split up neither of us could afford the mortgage on our own and that’s why I had to move back here, not that Mum’s happy about taking rent money. I insist even though she was left our cottage by my great aunt.’
‘It must have been hard – buying your dream home and having to let it go.’
‘Not really. When we decided to sell, I was surprised at how relieved I felt. It had stretched us to buy it and I hadn’t been sure, but my girlfriend had her heart set on a detached property with a conservatory. My needs are more basic – in fact the smaller the property, the better. Housework isn’t my forte.’
I smiled.
‘Looking back, we rushed into things. It’ll be a while before I let someone new into my life.’
For some reason that comment made my stomach knot. Could Ben sense that I’d felt like kissing him before? He must have been making it absolutely clear he wasn’t interested in anything romantic. Which was fine, of course, I wasn’t ready either.
‘Do you think I could drop in tomorrow to see your mum?’
‘She’d love that. In fact, I know she’s dying to see Taz. How about I ask her to drop around to yours after she’s finished her morning shift at the garden centre? And talking of the kitten, we’d better go and pick him up.’ He put our dishes in the sink. ‘Prepare to have your life turned upside down.’
13
Now
A Commemorative Tattoo is made with ink containing a loved one’s cremation ashes
I went over, bent down and attempted to tickle Taz’s head as the doorbell rang. He swiped. We’d both eaten and he’d slept. Matt had given me ointment to administer instead of the fiddly eye drops used by the nurse. I’d placed the litter tray near the French patio doors and his bed on the tiled floor, the other side of the kitchen by the Welsh dresser. Ben had encouraged me to buy a stick with a feather on the end. Neither me nor Taz were sure what to do with it.
The doorbell rang again and I shut the kitchen door behind me before answering it. Sunshine streamed in and wildflowers in the long grass that needed mowing politely tipped their heads in the breeze. I caught sight of the silver and turquoise cat earrings Steve had made. Jill came in.
She brushed soil off her shorts and t-shirt. ‘I would have changed but couldn’t wait to meet your house guest.’
‘He’s not particularly friendly.’
She closed the door and slipped off her dirty trainers. We went in the kitchen.
‘Oh my goodness.’ She stood still. ‘Aren’t you adorable?’
Taz looked up at her high voice.
‘Yes you are.’ She sat on the floor and lay down on one side. I liked how relaxed Jill was. She tickled under his chin. Eventually Taz closed his eyes.
‘That’s the first time he’s purred since Ben dropped us off yesterday. It seemed much easier when he was at the vet’s.’
Jill sat up and went to lift him.
‘Be careful, he might—’
‘Aren’t you so beautiful?’ She kissed Taz on the head and held him to her chest.
‘He wouldn’t let me do that.’
‘Did you try?’
‘Yes. Well… I mean… I’m not used to animals.’ I sat down at the table again. ‘To be honest I feel completely out of my depth. I’ve spent the whole morning in here to keep him company but he just sits, eats a bit and then
uses the litter tray. How do I know if I’m doing the right thing?’
‘What do your instincts tell you?’
‘To give him physical contact but every time I go near—’
‘Show me.’ Jill put Taz back in his basket.
Like before, I went over and started to bend down.
‘That’s your first mistake,’ said Jill. ‘Cats’ instincts tell them to beware of anything in the air as it could be a flying predator. So your hand coming down from a height is a threat. It’s why many cats don’t like balloons. You need to get down to his level.’
I sat crossed-legged on the tiles and gingerly held out my hand.
‘And don’t show you are nervous, he’ll pick up on that and it will put him on edge. Try to look confident, even if you don’t feel it. Go on, just stroke his head.’
I couldn’t help smiling to myself as Ben’s hard done by face popped into my head, him talking about Jill being bossy.
Without hesitating I tickled his cheek.
‘Talk to him. Tell him how handsome he is.’
‘Who’s a gorgeous boy?’ I looked up. ‘I feel stupid,’ I whispered.
‘The fact that you just whispered proves you know he’s taking in every word.’
‘Are you Taz? Are you extremely clever as well as handsome?’ The kitten tilted his head so that I could reach the right tickle spot.
‘Oh bless. He really is striking,’ said Jill. ‘Just look at those stripes and the M above his eyes. He’s going to be a right heartbreaker.’
I took a breath and lifted him up.
‘Support his bottom and back legs. Now use the other hand to stroke.’
Taz’s heart beat rapidly against my chest. Instinctively I buried my face in his fur. A fresh and woody smell filled my nostrils as his paws kneaded my body.
‘That’s because he’s missing mum,’ said Jill. ‘Moving paws like that – it’s part of the suckling process.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘Adult cats do it as well. I think it’s a comfort thing.’
I breathed in his scent and a memory flashed into my head. Jimmy Jammy. I was with my friend Jimmy Jammy. Why did I call him that? We must have been close for me to name my toy penguin after him. We’d just started school I think – the memory was vague. He was holding a ginger cat and we were in a garden. It was a large one for London but then my parents were high-end – we only lived in exclusive areas. I remember giggling. We must have smuggled it into my bedroom because my next memory was another one of me playing with my reflection that was now holding the cat.
Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage Page 8