A Perfect Cornish Escape

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘Porthmellow gets under your skin like that,’ Ellie said, making the coffee.

  Tiff chatted for a little while longer before taking her coffee over to a quiet corner. She couldn’t bear to tell Ellie – or anyone – that she was leaving.

  After a few words with Ellie’s boss, and Drew and Chloe, who’d popped in with Drew’s son and Chloe’s granddaughter, Tiff finished her coffee and escaped onto the quayside. She’d had no idea how hard it would be to leave these people behind. They’d been strangers when she’d first rocked up and she’d found many of the locals ‘quirky’, to say the least, but now she felt she was abandoning friends.

  She should have told Dirk immediately so she could say goodbye properly to everyone. How could she say that she’d decided to leave, and how would he react?

  Were they both lying to themselves as well as each other?

  She stopped for a few moments to contemplate the harbour, which was bustling with fishermen landing their catches on this weekday morning. Seagulls squabbled around the boats, fighting over a scrap of fish on the cobbles. That was where she’d almost broken her heel, where Evie and Troy had come to her rescue.

  She knew she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to them – or at least calling in. She popped into the florist’s and left with a pink rose in a pot. The climb up to the Carmans’ was steep, but at least she wasn’t gasping this time.

  Evie pulled open the door and smiled broadly. ‘Hello, Tiff. This is a surprise.’

  ‘I have the morning off,’ Tiff said. ‘And I brought you this.’ She handed it over.

  ‘That’s beautiful …’ Evie frowned in puzzlement, but beckoned Tiff inside. ‘What have I done to deserve it?’

  ‘Oh, nothing in particular … though I wanted to thank you for being so supportive to Marina these past few weeks.’

  ‘Thank you, but you didn’t need to buy me a gift.’ Evie inhaled the scent of the roses. ‘Though it is a beautiful plant. Look at this, Troy!’ Evie called.

  Troy appeared from the kitchen, a tea towel in his hands. ‘That’s very nice. What’s the occasion?’ he asked.

  Tiff shrugged. ‘It’s a thank you for looking after Marina and generally making me welcome.’

  Troy laughed. ‘Well, I must confess I never thought you’d fit in here. Thought you’d be off within a week, back to the bright lights,’ Troy said. ‘You proved me wrong, maid.’

  Tiff laughed but felt queasy with shame. ‘Thanks, Troy, and double thanks for calling me a “maid”.’ It was the least appropriate epithet she’d ever heard in connection with herself, especially of late, but it was funny. ‘I can’t stay, I’m afraid—’

  ‘Eh, wait a minute. I’ve something for you and Marina myself.’

  He scuttled off, leaving Evie to shrug in confusion, but Troy soon returned with a large plastic bag. ‘Here. Have these mackerel for your dinner. I caught them myself last week, and I’ve had them in our freezer.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Troy. I don’t know what to say,’ Tiff said.

  ‘They’ll be tasty with some fried potatoes and gooseberry sauce. Hang on, I’ll fetch a pot that Evie made last week.’

  ‘Yes, do,’ Evie said. ‘It’s not bad, if I say so myself.’

  Tiff was going to refuse but Troy was off and she put the pot in her handbag.

  ‘Thank you for this. Thank you for everything.’ She hugged Evie.

  Evie looked her in the eyes. ‘That sounds very final, my love,’ she murmured.

  ‘I … I’d better go before I embarrass myself,’ she said, clutching the frozen mackerel to her chest.

  ‘There’s no shame in a few tears when you leave good friends,’ Evie said quietly.

  ‘What do you mean about leaving?’ Troy asked.

  ‘Nothing, Troy. Nothing to bother you,’ Evie said, brushing Tiff’s fingers with hers.

  She knew. Evie knew. Tiff’s throat was clogged with emotion. ‘Take care, and thanks for the fish,’ she murmured, her eyes stinging.

  Evie patted her arm and Tiff hurried out of the door towards Marina’s before she burst into girly sobs. She wondered if anyone would ever call her a ‘maid’ again. Not likely, in London. She really must write about the characters down here, maybe send a photographer to get some shots of Troy’s weather-beaten face … if she could ever bear to be reminded of such an emotionally charged time. Perhaps it would be too dangerous.

  She would have wiped away her tears but her arms were full of fish so she let them flow. Better let them out now than when she took her leave of Dirk. Better let herself wallow so she could stiffen her spine for the ordeal to come.

  ‘I come bearing gifts,’ she said, walking into the cottage to find Marina at the kitchen table hunched over her laptop. ‘Mackerel with gooseberry sauce for supper?’

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘Troy and Evie Carman.’ She handed over the mackerel.

  Marina opened the paper. ‘Hmm. It will need to defrost and I’ll have to prepare it but it should be delicious.’

  ‘You know how to gut a fish?’

  ‘Of course I do. I was a fisherman’s wife, you know. Still am …’

  Tiff sat down. ‘How was your day? Any more news on Nate?’

  ‘No. I’m meeting my solicitor. The divorce is going ahead but it’ll take a lot longer now, of course. I’ve got to be patient and Nate will have to be involved.’

  ‘Will you have to speak to him?’

  ‘I hope not … I can’t face him, Tiff. Why should I have to see him after what he’s done to me?’

  Tiff held her tongue. How could she say whether it might be cathartic for Marina to confront Nate? She wasn’t in that position, thank God. She saw it as her duty to listen and give a few gentle prompts if she thought they might help.

  ‘I’ll stay a few days longer if you want me to.’

  ‘No. Mum and Dad aren’t far if I need them. You must go.’

  If saying goodbye to the locals had been hard, the worst was still to come. Tiff rang Dirk’s doorbell the following evening. She’d put off the dirty deed long enough and even considered running away without saying goodbye.

  It would be so much cleaner to simply walk out of his life without looking back, but she’d never been one to shirk away from a hard job and she wasn’t going to start now.

  No matter how painful, or how much it would cost, she owed it to him above all people to be honest.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, kissing her. She allowed her lips to linger, savouring every second of his touch, his scent, his presence.

  Dvořàk’s ‘Largo’ was playing in the sitting room, its poignant strains piercing her heart. Anyone would have thought he knew why she was there. She almost faltered but braced herself.

  ‘Can I get you a coffee?’ he asked.

  ‘No, thanks …’ She took a little breath. ‘Dirk. There’s no easy way of saying this. I’m going back to London.’

  He nodded almost immediately. ‘Of course you are.’

  ‘What do you mean, “of course”?’

  ‘Of course you’re going. You told me you were almost from the moment we met.’

  ‘So you’re not bothered about it?’

  He shook his head and looked at the floor, before meeting her eyes again. ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘Right. OK.’ He’d avoided answering as skilfully as any politician. She probably shouldn’t have asked. Why did she ask? Why should she care what he thought when his response would make no difference to her plans?

  ‘When?’ he asked.

  ‘Tomorrow. I’m going to visit my parents and then move back into my flat. The newspaper wants me to start work the week after next and I thought there was no reason to hang around.’

  Pain flickered in his eyes.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ she corrected quickly. ‘I meant … oh God, Dirk, I can’t stand a long goodbye. It’ll only be more painful for both of us. Do you understand what I’m saying? I have to go as soon as I can, or I might neve
r leave at all.’

  ‘Tiff …’ he began carefully. ‘You always made it clear that one day you’d go home. I can’t expect you to give up your career to stay here and I don’t want you to. We both know your job means everything to you and I told you I fully supported you taking Yvette’s offer.’

  ‘Everything? Yes, of course it does. Thanks for reminding me.’

  He frowned, picking up on the bitter edge in her tone, which was born of sadness and desperation. ‘Am I missing something here?’ he said. ‘Is there something I should be saying that I’m not? Begging you to stay here with me? Pleading with you not to leave? Because if that’s what you want, I can’t do it. For my sake, but more importantly, for yours. You would go crazy here, and you’d resent me for it. You deserve the best from life, Tiff, and that means doing the job you love in the place you love.’

  ‘Well, hey. Thanks for taking care of my welfare,’ she said.

  Dirk said nothing but he wouldn’t look away. ‘I do care. You know that without me saying it.’

  ‘Sure I do. I’m sorry. This is exactly the kind of scene I didn’t want to create. It’s exactly what we both said we wouldn’t do right back when this started.’

  ‘What did we say we wouldn’t do, Tiff? Remind me. It was a long time ago.’

  Get emotionally embroiled. Care too much about each other. Fall completely in love with the right man at the wrong time.

  None of those things reached her lips, of course. They would only have made the situation far worse and tipped her over the edge.

  ‘It seems like only yesterday to me,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s been a blast, Dirk. An education –’ she allowed a wicked smile to hide her real pain ‘– in so many ways, but I think we should say goodbye now and have done with it.’

  ‘If that’s what you want. You do know London’s not the moon? I could come and see you. You could even come and see me.’

  ‘True … and maybe we should do that.’

  ‘So why do I see fear in your eyes? Why don’t you think it’s a good idea?’

  She decided to be honest with him, if only to close down the conversation so she could get out of his sight faster. ‘I … I’d hate to see us – what we have – fizzle out over the next few months, a year if we’re lucky. You belong here and I belong there.’ How could she really tell him that she didn’t want to be hurt and disappointed all over again and this time by someone she deeply cared about? ‘Be realistic. Long distance relationships don’t work. You know that.’ She smiled at him. ‘Besides, I don’t want you to feel you have to be a monk while I’m not around.’

  ‘Do you actually mean you don’t want to behave like a nun when I’m not around?’

  She burst out laughing. After Dirk, she couldn’t imagine ever sleeping with anyone else; ever becoming close to someone again; ever loving again. The realisation hit her, rose up from her chest and choked her.

  She dug her nails in her palm, trying to drown out the clamour that screamed that she loved him. Loved him in a way she had never loved any man. She knew then that everything she’d felt for Warner had been straw in the wind.

  But he was right about her job meaning everything. Abso-bloody-lutely right. She couldn’t stay.

  Not even another minute.

  ‘Don’t make this any harder than it is. Why face the messy awkward pain of saying “goodbye”? We’re not ones for that kind of slushy, emotional stuff. We’ve both been there, done that and we didn’t want to do it again. I don’t … I can’t.’

  ‘Just let me say one thing. I won’t ask you to stay because I care about you, not because I don’t. I’ve never wanted you to be anyone but yourself, it just took me longer than it should have to realise that you being you is what makes me … what makes me like and care for you so much. Do you actually want me to get down on my knees and beg you to stay?’

  ‘I don’t want you to beg me.’

  ‘The press pressure was the tipping point in my marriage to Amira, but I knew in my heart it was already over by then. She’d been moving away from me for a long time. More accurately, we’d both been moving in different directions. Deep down, though, I didn’t want to admit it for a long time, she’d grown out of me. She needed to spread her wings – I wanted things to stay the same.’

  Tiff was astonished at his outpouring. No way was she going to stop him now, not that she could.

  He paced the room.

  ‘I said I’d compromise: that I could handle her working away, and that I’d go to all the glitzy events with her. I told her I’d do anything she wanted, but I think she could sense that my heart wasn’t in it or that I’d never be able to deal with it. When she finally told me she was leaving me, I lost it. Just lost it.’ He stopped. Tiff wondered what the hell was coming.

  ‘I pleaded with her. Told her I couldn’t live without her. Told her she couldn’t live without me.’ He groaned. ‘Jesus, the arrogance of it. The stupidity. It was all pointless, of course, because she’d already made up her mind and knew that the split was the right thing for both of us. It was what she needed and what I needed. The only possible solution.’

  Tiff knew when to speak and when to simply let someone pour out their raw emotions and she wasn’t about to stem the flow. She couldn’t imagine this proud, strong man begging anyone for anything. She’d no doubt that he was baring his soul for the first time, and to her. She was moved … and she felt responsible, holding this precious secret in her hands.

  ‘I’m ashamed I made Amira feel guilty for pursuing her dream for even a second. I’m ashamed I put her in that position by begging her to stay. She left anyway, thank God. Of course, it took a while for me to realise how wrong my actions were. It was a few weeks after she left that I decided to come down here, and months before I had any kind of clarity. I learned something else too. I will never beg anyone else to stay in my life, never try to tie them down, no matter how much I want to be with them, or how much I care. Which is why I want you to go back to London and take this job. Not because I don’t care about you more than you’d probably ever believe, but precisely because I do.’

  ‘Oh, Dirk. Don’t do this.’

  ‘Don’t do what? The right thing?’ He laughed. ‘Don’t go all mushy on me now. That’s what I like about you. You don’t do mushy. I’m very proud of you, even though you drive me insane at times. Now, forget I ever said any of that stuff about Amira. I already regret telling you.’

  ‘Enough. Don’t say any more. This is too painful. It’s worse than I even expected; I can’t stay any longer.’

  ‘Wait, Tiff.’

  ‘No. I d-don’t think so. Bye, Dirk. Have a good life.’

  She fled out of his cottage, leaving the door open behind her. Thank God she wasn’t wearing those stupid heels like when she’d arrived or she’d have tripped over on the lane. She practically ran back to Marina’s, not risking a glance behind, and slammed the door behind her.

  What if he came after her?

  Oh God, she couldn’t see him again or her resolve might wobble. She’d definitely make a fool of herself.

  But the knock at the door never came.

  She tried to look forward to her new opportunity. Not many people got a second chance, especially not one this good. She should embrace it; soon she’d be sucked into her crazy, manic life again and Dirk and Porthmellow and the pain of leaving him would surely fade away …

  But he was wrong about one thing: she didn’t love her career more than him. If it were that simple, she’d be able to walk away from this – from him – without feeling that she’d left her soul behind.

  Chapter Forty

  Even though Tiff had barely been gone for a week, Marina missed her more than she’d ever expected. The house felt as if it knew a vibrant soul had departed from it – which it had. Another part of her life was missing too. The gap left by Lachlan was proving impossible to fill. The fact he lived a few doors away and she inevitably saw him, made things worse. Yet she was still handling the legal fal
lout – not to mention the emotional betrayal. She was grateful to have a busy term at college to throw herself into, with colleagues to support her, and she could distract herself with the Wave Watchers again, now that she’d resumed her duties.

  It had been strange walking into the station a couple of weeks earlier, after so long away. She’d soon picked up the operational side of things but, somehow, being there didn’t feel quite the same.

  The wooden hut seemed particularly isolated on this late September afternoon on the very cusp of autumn. It should have been a turning point for her and yet, with Nate back in her life – however far away and uninvited – and Lachlan out of it, she was still in limbo. She was alone waiting for Gareth to arrive, but he was running late as his moped wouldn’t start, so she steeled herself for the shift, trying to focus on all the good reasons why she’d opened the station and not the sham that she now felt its foundations had been built on.

  She’d be fine on her own and she didn’t mind a little time to collect her thoughts. It was a gusty day, with leaden clouds constantly chasing patches of blue across the sky. One moment the sun would light up the whitecaps on the sea, the next the ocean would be plunged into angry shadow. It was typical of the kind of weather Porthmellow experienced as autumn set in. She watched as fishing vessels battled the swell, and on the horizon, a tanker made its way along the shipping lanes of the Channel.

  Marina had been on watch for half an hour when Gareth called, breathless.

  ‘I’m sorry! I’m still stuck. My moped’s out of action. I’ll have to get a lift off Mum when she comes back from my nan’s but I’ll be an hour at least.’

  ‘It’s OK. Don’t worry,’ Marina said, soothing him. ‘It’s not worth you coming for half a shift. Doreen and Trevor will almost be here by the time you make it. I can manage until they get here.’

  ‘I don’t like letting you down on a busy weekend. Can you get someone else to help?’ Gareth sounded genuinely upset. ‘What about Lachlan? He’s the closest.’

  ‘Lachlan? I – I’m not sure … he’s probably busy and I’m not sure he’s up to doing any Wave Watchers shifts at the moment …’