by kendra Smith
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Rachel told me. She told me not to come but, Maddie, there’s loads… Look. I need your help.’
She folded her arms in front of her. ‘Help? You’ve got to be joking, Tim! After everything.’
‘Maddie, I need to explain.’
‘What? Tim, for Christ’s sake, yes, you can explain what’s happened? All I’ve had are furtive phone calls, abrupt texts. First, you’re drunk. Then sobbing. You take every last cent from my bank account whilst I’m abroad, then when I get back I see that there are bailiffs at the house! And Jesus, Tim, what about her? Mrs Pearl Earring!’
‘Her name’s Linda.’ Tim at least had the grace to bow his head.
‘Linda. And where did you meet her?’
‘At a wine conference.’
‘Of course you did, and now you’re telling me you need my help? What on earth’s going on?’ She placed the milk onto the table with shaky hands.
Tim picked it up, poured some into his tea and then wandered silently into the lounge and stood by the window. He placed his mug on the windowsill.
‘It’s beautiful here.’
‘Tim.’ It was all she could do not to scream. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’
He turned to face her. He was grey, his skin washed out like he hadn’t slept for weeks. He was in a baggy beige jumper with what looked like a tea stain on the front, with a T-shirt underneath. He never wore T-shirts. ‘You never loved me, did you, Maddie? Not really.’
She let out a deep sigh. ‘Tim, we both knew what we were getting into when—’
‘But I looked after you, Maddie. You were all alone – you hated being alone – and then when your mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and—’
‘Don’t.’
‘Your father died. I was there for you, wasn’t I?’
She sat down on the sofa heavily. Naturally she’d turned to him. Who else had there been? Her mother was terminally ill; her father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. He’d visited the local pub when she’d been working a few shifts whilst she still could when she was back staying with her parents near Portsmouth; Tim walked in, a travelling salesman, owner of his own wine business, looking confident. It had been so nice to have someone take charge and make her feel a little bit special. And now?
‘Tim, you met me when I was at a low ebb, and you know that I will always be grateful to you. But the way you’ve treated me over the last few months – Linda, and now…’ She shook her head, anger building up, not knowing how to finish the sentence.
‘I know, Maddie, but I’ve had no choice. There’s a reason.’
‘Everyone has a choice, Tim.’ And as she said it, some part of her brain clicked, as if the wheels of a clock were joined together, working as one. You have a choice, Maddie Brown.
‘But not everyone’s got a problem,’ Tim said, staring out to the coastline.
‘We’ve all got prob—’
‘Not like mine.’ He spun back around and then sunk down onto the sofa next to her.
‘What do you mean, Tim?’
‘Gambling. I can’t help it. Always have done. Started with my dad, on the football, just a few quid. Nothing serious. Then I was betting on all the games, then the casinos, blackjack.’ He pushed two fingers into his eye sockets. ‘It escalated.’
She stared at him. In all their years of marriage she had found many faults with him that she had tried to overlook: controlling, extremely tidy, protective of what he owned, selfish – but at no point had she seen him as a gambler.
‘Gambling? But you’ve never even bought a lottery ticket!’
He started laughing then and it ended with a huge sob. ‘Lottery ticket! My God,’ he sniffed. ‘I wish that’s all I had done. No, Maddie, my habit’s way beyond lottery tickets. Debts up to my ears. It’s the thrill, you see, not in the actual gambling, but in thinking I can always win again, the click of the chips, the lure of the bet.’ His eyes drifted towards the mantelpiece and back to her. ‘And then you’re hooked. You lose a bit and then you kid yourself that you’ll do better next game. And you sell stuff, take out loans, to pay for it, and still, it happens again…’ He lowered his head and couldn’t stop the tears this time. It was just awful when men cried. Her dad had never cried. Men of that generation found it hard to show emotion in public. She wasn’t used to it. It was not that men shouldn’t cry, it was just that watching them lay bare their true feelings was almost too raw.
Maddie sat, transfixed, as the enormity of what he was saying sunk in, the deception, the double deception. She wanted to feel empathy, she wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t – not after what he’d done to her.
‘How long, Tim?’
He looked up at her. ‘Years, it’s where all the money’s gone – the wine tours, the trips away.’
‘That was all fake?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Some of them were genuine. Maddie, you have to believe me.’ He narrowed his eyes.
She knew she should be absolutely furious with him about how he’d treated her, but a part of her was helicoptering above the whole scene as if it wasn’t really her life.
‘How did it come to this, Tim?’ she whispered.
He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t help it, Maddie.’
‘You need help, Tim, proper help. Beyond what I can say to you.’ She put her hand on his bony shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
She listened as he went on to explain the extent of it; lawyers were involved. She heard the words ‘precious little left’. She cast her eye over her newly painted walls, the cushions on the sofa, her fresh new surroundings, and knew this was the beginning of the end of her marriage. Nothing would fix the deception between them.
‘So why are you here?’
‘Olive didn’t leave me a thing, Maddie, not a penny. So—’
She stared at him, at his face, nose ruddy from crying. ‘I thought you’d come to see me, to explain, but no, you need money? Is that why you’re here? You’ve cheated on me, bled our savings dry and now you want money from me?’ Bile was rising up and she was having trouble controlling the anger.
‘I did come to explain, Maddie—’ He stopped. ‘But what I was thinking, if we sell Maris Cottage—’
‘We? Tim this place is mine now. Something for me. And when I do sell it, I need the money. Be reasonable, Tim. Whatever mess you’re in, you’ve done that yourself. You need help, professional help.’ She blinked a few times, willed her shaking hands to steady and took a deep breath.
Just then Taffie bounded in and came up to Tim, snuffling at his ankles.
Tim moved his leg abruptly away. ‘Stupid dog,’ he said, slamming his cup on the table. ‘I supported you for all these years, Maddie.’
‘But you’ve been gambling, the whole time! You’ve lost everything we built. Half of it belongs to me, Tim. Can’t you see that? And it’s gone. And seeing her. You have a problem, an addiction. And, Tim—’ she folded her arms across her chest ‘—I might sound harsh, but until you sort it out, I won’t help you at all. The only thing that will happen if I give you half the money for Maris Cottage is that you will blow it on spread betting at the races, or something.’
‘I never bet on horses.’
‘That’s not the point!’ she screamed. ‘What would Ed say?’
‘Well, he’s—’
‘Don’t say it, Tim,’ she whispered.
He looked over sharply then.
‘He’s our son. We both brought up him up – you and me!’ Trembling, she added, ‘You need to go now, Tim, I need to be alone.’
34
‘Hi there!’ A woman with a mass of blonde curls, gold hoop earrings and a cherry-red smile popped her head out from under the counter.
Maddie took a step back.
‘Oh, I didn’t see you!’
‘Can I help you?’ The accent was American. The woman emerged slowly, a slim figure encased in a pair of blue denim dungarees over a green floral shirt, rolled up at
the sleeves.
‘Oh hi, I’m Maddie. I’ve noticed your ad in the window for a few weeks and thought I’d pop in.’
She was in the Shore Café, the one along from her cottage. It was a freezing December day, a few days after her row with Tim, and sleety-rain had been pelting on her windows all day. She’d watched the raindrops fighting for space on the wide glass surface as she’d brooded about Tim, about Greg, about her life, until she’d finally stood up, made herself a cup of coffee, glanced at the advert again as she opened the fridge for milk and made a decision. She’d swiped her coat from the rack in the hall, promising Taffie she’d walk him later.
She’d marched out in the sleet before she’d had time to think. She needed to take control; she needed a job.
‘Yes, that’s great,’ the woman was saying. ‘We could really do with a hand. Sue, that’s the manager, she’s been a bit – how do you guys say it – poorly, and yeah, I’m kinda here on my own. It’s always fine in the summer with students needing work, but the rest of the year we can never get any help. Oh, I’m Lauren, by the way,’ she said holding out a hand with a mass of bangles on them, which cascaded down her arm and gathered around her wrist with a jangle. Maddie took her hand and shook it.
‘Got any waitressing skills?’ Lauren tilted her head to one side, as if willing Maddie to say she had years of experience.
‘I’ve worked for years as a dinner lady, if that counts?’
Lauren held up her hands and grinned. ‘Counts? That’s awesome!’ She leant in across the counter. ‘We had a couple of teenagers apply for the job – did a day’s trial and oh my gosh, they were hopeless. At least you look like you can make a cup of Joe!’
‘Sorry?’ Maddie frowned.
‘Coffee!’ She grinned.
‘Yes, I can do that!’
Lauren glanced at her watch. It was two o’clock. She headed to the door and turned the sign on the door around to say ‘Closed’. Coming back to the counter she laid out some cups. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Cup of tea would be lovely.’
‘Sure thing, go sit down and I’ll bring it over.’
Maddie looked around the café. There were about ten wooden tables, some for two, but the biggest was for six, covered in plastic tablecloths. Each one had a tiny vase on the table keeping a small sprig of gypsophila in place. A row of shelves dissected the wall at the back, but they were bare apart from a few lonely salt and pepper pots, and some rather worn Christmas decorations. Maddie tilted her head to one side. Those shelves looked so empty, as if they needed to showcase something, bring the café to life. The whole place was cheery enough, but it could do with an overhaul, just like Maris Cottage had.
Lauren placed a steaming pot of tea on the table along with a cream eclair on a plate.
‘We can share that!’ She smiled. ‘One of the perks of the job.’
Maddie took a sip as Lauren explained the set-up. ‘It would just be part-time – for now. To let me have a break, and then in the afternoons, when it’s busy there really needs to be two of us. Some days everyone wants serving all at once and I can’t manage.’
‘Sure.’ Maddie nodded. They chatted for ages. Lauren was easy to talk to. It turned out Lauren was from San Antonio, travelling around the world on a ticket her parents had bought her. She was at university in Austin, Texas, studying music, and had wanted to see the UK. She was on the IOW by accident – she’d boarded the ferry thinking she was going to France, but had ended up at Fishbourne. But she’d liked it, said to Maddie it was ‘real quaint’. She’d ended up working at the coffee shop on a trial basis and had stayed for six months. Lauren explained to Maddie about Sue, the manager of Shore Café. She rolled her eyes. ‘She’s never here, but,’ sighed Lauren, ‘the poor woman is going through a rough patch. She often calls “unexpectedly” and leaves me to cope.’ Lauren took a sip of tea. ‘It’s not so bad, though. I like it here.’ She shrugged. ‘Despite the weather! What about you? What brings you to Brightwater Bay?’
Maddie looked out to the grey skies hanging over the village, the pavement smeared with dark patches where clumps of snow were melting, then she turned to face Lauren and found herself telling her all about her life, about Olive, Ed, Maris Cottage. When she looked up, Lauren had tears in her eyes.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you!’
‘No, it’s just your story about Olive. It’s so sweet that you have her cottage. Look,’ she said, pouring them both another half cup of tea. ‘We’re shut over Christmas but why don’t you start after that? See how we both feel after a few weeks? What did you say? Brightwater Bay is your new beginning? Then why not start with a new job?’ She grinned at Maddie who found herself nodding.
‘Yes, all right. Let’s give it a go.’
Later, as she walked along the coast path back to her cottage, she realised she hadn’t asked Lauren what the pay was. She shrugged to herself, because money wasn’t everything. Her New Beginning was underway. The money was important, but not as much as this feeling of being part of something bigger. She was starting to feel a lot more at home in Brightwater Bay than she’d ever done at Little Rowland. And yet just as quickly as this hopeful feeling landed in her heart, it was eclipsed by doubt; there was still one almighty secret she had to deal with before she could move on.
35
When she got home, Maddie clipped on Taffie’s lead. He was barking at her, delighted to see the lead, knowing it meant a walk on the beach. It was still foul outside, but she wanted to take the poor dog out before it got too dark. His shook himself as his sandy-coloured coat fluffed up, then barked at her. Maddie glanced out of the kitchen doors as she put on her big jacket. It was still sleeting. She yanked on a woolly hat for good measure. She wanted to clear her head.
As she opened the kitchen doors, they were yanked from her grip by a gust of wind and slammed back on themselves into the wall. She tried to close them against the wind and pushed her shoulder against them to lock them. She pulled her hat down over her forehead and headed to the little gate at the back of the garden, which took her straight onto the coastal path.
Turning left, she glanced out to sea and couldn’t even see the horizon; the gathering lead-coloured clouds had merged with the sea. Small boats were bobbing up and down in the bay. Angry white sea foam was dancing all over the surface of the murky waters as the wind picked up speed, sending frenzied waves crashing onto the beach below her. A few of the boats were upturned. Seagulls screeched overhead as the sleet bit into her cheeks.
There was nobody about. Taffie yanked the lead and she carried on, one hand holding on to her hat, her shoulders hunched as she trudged into the wind. Sand whipped up from the beach and stung her face as she winced in pain. How could Tim have destroyed everything they’d built up? Should she tell Ed any of it? Last time she’d heard from him he and Adity had been on the islands to the east coast of Thailand, but she hadn’t heard from him in a while and she didn’t want to worry him.
She made her way along the coastal path, from where it turned from tarmac into rough ground. The path continued along the headland, somewhere she’d never been. Further up, she knew it petered out on the grassy headland, but she didn’t want to go that far.
She kept walking along the path, even though at times the wind almost blew her off. The tide was right in and the furious foam from the waves hurled over the sea wall. The spray splattered all over her, soaking her jacket as she turned around to see if she should go back. Looking out to sea again, she could barely make out any of the boats: mist, sea spray and dark purple clouds merged to form a menacing creature of fury rising above the tides. Taffie yanked on the lead and tugged her forward. Just a few more minutes, she thought, wiping the saltwater from her cheeks.
Suddenly, Taffie yanked her so much that he was free from his lead, and he bounded further up the path, out of sight as it curved round the bay.
‘Taffie!’ she yelled at the wilful terrier. But it was useless. She couldn’t see him. Just then
a wave from below crashed over the sea wall below her, sending up a huge plume of water, soaking her right through. She shivered and stood fixed to the spot, water dripping from her nose. Taffie was nowhere to be seen.
‘Taffie!’ she called again, looking up the path. Blasted dog. The waves were engulfing the path. At one point she had to stand, her back pressed to the wall, as a wave rose up, and crashed around her. She looked over at the swirling, angry waves below the wall, lapping at the stones, and whipping up onto the path, like a sea dragon rising from the ocean to claim its prey. Her heart thudded. She had to find Taffie. She couldn’t leave him in case he fell in.
She carried on further up the path, but just as she did, a huge wave crashed right up in front of her, this time, nearly knocking her over. She stood with her back against the wooden fence again, terrified.
What on earth was she going to do? She called again for Taffie, but she could hardly hear her own voice with the roar of the ocean. She marched determinedly along the path, keeping close to the sea wall. She glanced beside her at the angry sea again, at the swirling, foamy water, like a white rabid dog snapping at her heels. What if she fell in? What if Taffie had already fallen in? She shivered. Apparently last year a couple had fallen into the sea along this path. She dug her hands further into her coat pocket and kept on walking.
She looked around again, to see if there was anybody about. The place was deserted. Her heart was thumping as she put one foot in front of the other, slowly making her way along it, pulling her hat over her ears as the wind screeched past her. The path was moving away from the coast a little by now, taking her further inland. She made her way across tufts of grass, tripping over at one point, and nearly falling. She steadied herself and carried on, unable to see very far in the distance. Her hat was pulled down and the blizzard made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front.