by kendra Smith
‘Taffie!’ she yelled again, but her voice was swallowed by the noise of the wind. Where was he? She trudged along the stony path, eventually emerging on another bay below.
She looked out to the deserted cove and saw a small figure hauling boards up the beach. She carried on walking and shouting for Taffie. Tears were gathering in her eyes as she worried Taffie might have been washed off the coastal path by now. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to Taffie. She’d lost so much already: her home, Olive, her marriage, and Ed was away. It would break her heart if Taffie went missing – or worse… She should have known better than to come out in a storm. She was miles from the cottage by now.
Just then, a figure appeared in the distance on the path. She looked up but then stopped abruptly. That silhouette. Even in the sleet it was familiar. Greg?
He approached her, covering his face with his hand. ‘Maddie? What the hell are you doing out here?’ She could hardly hear him.
‘My dog, Taffie, I’ve lost him in the storm!’ she yelled over the wind.
‘Where?’
‘On the beach path…’
‘The beach path? What are you doing out in these conditions! Last year someone—’
‘I know, I know,’ she shouted, yanking her hat down further. ‘But Taffie… I have to find him. What are you doing here?’
Greg shook his head. ‘Some idiot left the windsurfing boards too far down the beach. I had to haul them up or we’d lose them.’
She could see he was shivering. ‘I’ll look for him,’ he said.
‘But—’ she interrupted.
‘I’m soaked through as it is. You go home. That way.’ He pointed to her left. ‘Take this path a bit further then it cuts left, takes you towards the main road, and stay on that till you get home. Don’t,’ he said, clutching her wrist, ‘whatever you do, go back on that sea path.’
‘But—’
‘Maddie. I’m serious. Go home. I’ll retrace your steps on the sea path. I know the path better than you; it’s too dangerous.’
Maddie nodded. She was shivering and exhausted.
‘What’s his name again?’ shouted Greg.
‘Taffie.’ Maddie sniffed, turning away and wishing she had never gone out for a walk.
36
Greg was standing in her doorway, his normally wavy hair plastered onto his forehead, dripping wet. He was clutching a very bedraggled and forlorn Cairn terrier under his arm.
‘Does this belong to you?’ He held Taffie up, who immediately wriggled and tried to get out of his grip to reach Maddie. She took him from Greg’s arms; the dog was shivering. Relief flooded through her as Taffie licked her face. She glanced at Greg who was still standing on the porch, the sleety rain pelting down outside. ‘Thank you. I’ll just get him a towel and—’ She hesitated, unsure what to say. ‘Look, come in, you’re soaking.’
She stood back as Greg walked past her and she set Taffie down. She quickly went into the kitchen and grabbed two towels from a nearby laundry basket, giving one to Greg and using the other to rub Taffie vigorously. Taffie barked at her, then trotted through to the lounge and sat down in front of the fire that Maddie had made.
‘Do you mind if I take my top off? It’s soaking,’ Greg shouted from the hall.
‘No,’ she called back, ‘put it next to the fire.’ She got up and went through to the hall. Greg was rubbing his hair with the towel. He’d taken off his shoes and his top, and was standing, bare-chested. Maddie didn’t know where to look.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ She fidgeted with a button on her cardigan and then shot him a look.
He nodded.
‘Thank you,’ she added quietly as an awkward silence settled between them. ‘Go and sit by the fire. I’ll bring it in.’
When she came into the lounge, Greg was sitting on the floor, the towel draped over his shoulders, leaning with his back to the sofa. Taffie was by his side, his legs in the air, getting his belly tickled.
Maddie set the tray down on the floor and sat next to him. She pulled her legs up to her chest and tried not to think about how close he was. The storm was nowhere near over; sleet drummed relentlessly on the glass. Their breathing and the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece were the only other sounds for a while.
‘Next time there’s a storm like that, don’t go on that path, Maddie.’ He looked up from stroking Taffie. ‘It’s already claimed a few lives.’
‘I know.’
‘It’s so sad, I’ve talked to several of the locals. The kids on the courses are usually tucked up in bed by their teachers by ten; that’s why I sometimes wander down to the pub,’ he said taking a sip of tea. ‘They warned me about the path.’ He reached over and put the mug of tea on the floor.
Maddie nodded and caught his eyes, then quickly looked down at his chest, then instantly away. She sipped her tea carefully and glanced furtively at him, catching another glimpse of his bronzed chest. She knew, without looking, the pattern: a darker patch of hair over his nipples, and across his torso, then a smooth clean patch across his belly. She used to hold that smooth belly tight, clasp him to her as she lay behind him in bed, in their ‘spoons’ position. She remembered how they’d said that they would never let each other go, even in a hurricane. They had been eating chocolate ice cream from the tub that day, legs crossed on his bed.
They would often lie in that position for ages, after they’d made love, after the hot mess and tangle of legs and sheets had subsided into steady breathing, as she’d lain awake, held him next to her like an armour against the world. She didn’t need chocolate ice cream, she didn’t need to breathe even – she remembered the intoxicating feeling – she just needed him.
Months later, in the days when she was achingly alone, she would cling to his T-shirt in bed, the one and only part of him she still had. She’d sob into it and hide it under her pillow so her mum couldn’t find it and wash it like her hummingbird scarf. His name was mud. She’d known then that she should have been angry with him. She should have registered all the hurt he’d caused her, but she understood. She knew him inside out, understood that he wouldn’t have been able to cope, that she’d rather have the memories of him, than a trapped soul standing valiantly by her side.
If she had been passionate about him, he’d been more than passionate about her. He used to sneak into her halls once she told him the code and sleep on the floor – that was after they’d had sex, sometimes three times in a row. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Maddie, there will never be another you. They were a team. They’d been together two whole magical years. They were Maddie & Greg, practically an institution around the university.
And now, a silence lay between them and it filled the room. She felt the weight of all the questions she wanted to ask press down on her. It was quiet yet not silent – the noise of the wind outside would interrupt from time to time. She felt the rug underneath her and stroked its rough wool with her fingers. Maddie broke the silence first.
‘Why the anger, Greg, when you first saw me at the reunion? Surely that should be—’
‘Because I couldn’t cope, Maddie – seeing you. It’s been too hard.’ Hard? Hard because you misjudged me, she wanted to say. Instead, she frowned, decided to lead the conversation another way. ‘What about Cornwall, your place there? Your wife?’ She quickly took another sip of tea.
He turned to face her and she could see drops of rain caught in his eyelashes. ‘It’s – well, it’s complicated,’ he muttered, blinking a few times.
Complicated. What on earth does that mean? wondered Maddie, looking between Greg and the exhausted dog lying between them. But she didn’t want to push it.
‘And you?’ He ran his hands through his damp hair.
And then she told him, explained why she was there, about Olive, about how sad the last few weeks had been, how Maddie had wished she was there for her. The bombshell with Tim, his deceit on every level, the house, the money, Linda, the gambling, how she�
��d been left Maris Cottage. About Ed travelling, about how alone she felt at times. She looked up and could see deep concern in his eyes. He reached out and touched her hand.
‘Maddie, that’s awful,’ he said. Then he stretched his arms above his head and hauled himself up to sit a bit more upright. He leant towards her. ‘Listen, let’s talk about—’
‘No, Greg, it’s OK.’ She didn’t want to dredge up the past; she knew there was no way she could put the clock back. He was married, and she’d always promised herself she wouldn’t play tricks, to hold him accountable.
‘But it’s not OK, Maddie,’ he said, leaning forward and turning to face her. ‘There’s a lot we need to talk about. You need to understand—’
‘Look, Greg, I do understand. I mean, I’m angry about what you thought I’d do—’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You jumped to conclusions. It’s not what you think.’ She shook her head. ‘You thought I’d gotten rid of the baby, didn’t you? But before that, when you thought “we” were having a baby – the responsibility you would have felt…’ She trailed off as his face contorted into a strange frown.
‘Conclusions? What do you mean, Maddie?’
‘It was a huge responsibility – for both of us – but I didn’t want to trap you. How could I do that? I understand why you didn’t try to get in touch with me after that first visit. I know my mother was awful to you. I know you, Greg.’ She felt a lump in her throat. ‘You’re happiest when you’re not anchored down. Just look at you here – you love it. I knew you wanted to get away, live your life. I get it. I loved you, Greg, so I let you go. Simple.’ Her eyes were moist and she stared at his strong arms, at his hands clasped together on his lap. He would never know how much pain that had caused her. How can you pin down a butterfly? Rip those paper-thin wings? Never to fly again?
‘But you thought I got rid of the baby, didn’t you?’ she whispered, feeling the tears. ‘That’s what you said in the hotel—’ She couldn’t finish the sentence because of the sob that left her. ‘That really hurt me, Greg.’
‘Maddie, God no! What do you mean?’ He suddenly sat up and swivelled round to face her. Then he reached out and held her face in both his hands.
She was trembling. ‘It’s OK, Greg, I understand.’
She could hear the blood rushing through her ears and she looked into his eyes as his warm hands cupped her cheeks. ‘No, no, you don’t.’ He was looking fiercely at her, his thumb rubbing her chin.
‘Greg, I don’t blame you, I never have, I—’ She realised she wanted to say ‘always loved you’ but stopped herself. She had a new life here and she needed to be strong for Ed, and herself.
‘Maddie.’ He stopped rubbing her chin with his thumb and stared right at her. His eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked, bewildered at her.
‘I didn’t think you’d lost the baby; your mother told me you had.’
‘She what?’
‘She told me you were bleeding, that the baby was gone. That you had all decided it was for the best.’
Maddie felt sick. He didn’t understand.
‘I was bleeding, but you left, you didn’t stay. I felt rejected—’ Why had her mother told him that?
‘Maddie.’ He took his hands away from her face and threw them in the air. ‘I did leave that day, yes. I was in shock. But did she not tell you I came the next day – again?’ Greg’s eyes were darting left and right looking into her eyes. ‘To see you. The very next day. I couldn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’d walked away once, and it was awful. I knew I didn’t want to walk away again.’
Maddie felt the world spin. He came again. A little piece of her narrative had been altered. Everything else in her mind fell away. She’d never known, she’d had no phone then, there had been no text messages, no nothing. Just a huge mess of misunderstanding. And now, a whole link in the chain she thought was broken was being fixed. A new understanding dawned on her. All she could remember were the days after she came home, the tears, twisting the hummingbird scarf round and round her hand, the smooth silk caressing her skin, sleeping with it next to her on the pillow. She’d asked him about the hummingbirds the day he gave it to her and he’d smiled. Not many people know this, he said, but their wings, they move in the symbol of the infinity sign. We’ll be together forever, Maddie. That’s what he’d said to her when he gave her the scarf. She could barely believe it. Maybe he’d been right all along. She looked up at him.
‘I know we’d said goodbye and you’d told me that it was OK, that we were both young, but I couldn’t let you go. That’s why I came back. Your mum was in, and you were upstairs.’
All these years… Maddie felt as if the air had gone from her lungs. But there had been no way of getting in touch. How could she have known?
‘Why didn’t you shout, let me know you were there? I had been crying myself to sleep all week after you left. I had—’ She stopped herself from telling Greg everything. Years of building up an impenetrable dam was hard to break. She had naturally buried all those feelings, pushed them further and further down inside her psyche so that they remained hidden behind the face that she put on for the world most of the time: the happy mum for Ed, the dutiful wife for Tim – look where that got you – and a good employee for the school, but the cracks were often there. She knew the signs: the late-night confessionals to Rachel, the drinking on her own when Tim was away, the heavy-hearted way she had felt on her wedding day. What had she been thinking? How had she survived the years of putting everyone first except herself. Why had she done it?
Because, her conscience mocked, when you’re twenty-one and pregnant and your parents are overwhelmingly disappointed in you and when you lose the only man you’ve loved, you go into emotional lockdown. You supress everything, because allowing those feelings to surface would be too dangerous – especially when no good can come of them, when you hit a roadblock.
Until now.
Greg was stroking her hair with one hand, pushing her wet fringe off her forehead. She could smell his familiar scent.
‘Your mother told me you’d been bleeding, Maddie, she said the baby was gone. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to see you, I wanted to hold you – badly. Maddie, you have to believe me.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘But your mother stood in the doorway and wouldn’t let me in. That look on her face…’
Her past was being rewritten – all those nights when she’d wondered how he could just walk away, and yet she’d forgiven him for it. She had come to terms with it, but it had taken a long time, and all that time, he had come back… She was taking short, shallow breaths, unable to comprehend.
‘She told me to go, Maddie. She said—’ his voice caught in his throat ‘—to me, “Haven’t you done enough damage already?”’ He dropped his hands from Maddie and put them in his lap. ‘I felt so ashamed.’
‘She said that to you?’
He nodded slightly. ‘It was the way she looked at me, Maddie. I swear, you have to believe me. Nobody had ever looked at me with such disgust before. Not like that. She hated me, standing on that doorstep. She told me I’d ruined her little girl, that I’d let myself down, I’d let you down, I’d let the whole family down.’
‘We’d both let each other down, but… I didn’t know any of this, Greg. I just—’
He came back.
She didn’t know what to feel. She was dizzy. She wanted to explain the whole story. There was more to explain, but she couldn’t, as not only were a thousand sparks flying in her chest, she couldn’t speak because Greg’s mouth was pressing down on hers as his hand rested on her shoulder blade and pulled her close to his bare chest. All Maddie could hear was the sleet hammering on the window, and the heat of the fire on her back as she lost herself in a warm syrupy feeling. It was like sliding into a warm soothing bath. Greg used both hands on her upper arms to haul her even closer to him. It was exhilarating. It was like coming home. She never wanted to let the feeling go.
But she had to; there were things she needed to explain.
‘Greg. I need to tell you…’ But he put his fingers up to her lips. ‘Shh. Don’t spoil the moment. You have no idea how long I’ve imagined this, wanted to hold you. When I saw you at the reunion, I—’ He smiled at her as she reached out and touched his hair, still damp from the beach. He gripped her hand in his and kissed her fingertips.
‘But you were so gruff with me at the reunion.’
‘I was protecting myself. I didn’t know how to react when I saw you. It was easier just to keep my feelings bottled up – but I have never stopped thinking about you. Never. Not a day has gone past where I haven’t thought of you.’
All these years…
‘We don’t need to do anything, Maddie. We’ve got all the time in the world.’ And with that, he pressed her head down to his chest, and stroked her hair, his fingers tracing the outline of her cheek. She lay there, feeling a contentment she hadn’t felt in nearly twenty years. She needed to talk to him about all the thoughts muddled in her mind, but she knew there would be time. She didn’t want to burst this cosy cocoon, nor leave his side, as she drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath her.
*
Maddie woke with a start to the sound of Greg’s phone was bleeping. She lay for a moment, confused, then blissfully remembered, not wanting to move. Her head was on his chest, and Taffie was curled up by their feet, the fire now a dark orange glow, some logs luminous with the heat. Taffie lifted his head up, looked around, opened his jaws and yawned, then placed his head back on Greg’s legs. The phone rang again, and Greg woke with a start and fished it out of his pocket.