by kendra Smith
‘Not many places to go in here, to avoid walking on the floorboards, unless we go upstairs.’ His face was expressionless, but he was staring into her eyes with a smile twitching on his lips.
Without saying anything, she took him by the hand, and tiptoed to the foot of the stairs. As she quietly padded up the carpeted stairs to her bedroom, she was acutely aware that he was right behind her, watching her every step.
When they reached her bedroom door, he yanked her close to him. She stood, inches away from him. She was sure he would be able to hear her heart beating; she could feel a heat radiating through her body as she inhaled slowly.
‘Come and sit on the bed with me,’ he said, ‘like we used to.’ He jumped onto it, leaning back on the headboard. She sat, nestled between his legs, both of them facing out to the view, out over the now-darkening ocean. His strong arms held her across her chest as she leant back onto his strong body. In front of them was a tiny globe of sun glittering above the mauve winter sea. The fluffy clouds above the sun were studded with hues of gold, as if a painter had taken a brush and swept the fibres across the canvas, streaking it with glittering burnt-orange threads. It was magical.
‘I could look at that view forever,’ murmured Greg, as he rubbed her arm gently with his thumb.
There was still a little warmth in the December sun as it streamed through the window. The room was hot and airless. Maddie could feel her cheeks glowing from the walk outside, from the wine, and from being that close to Greg.
Slowly, he started to kiss the back of her neck. She felt a shiver up her spine, then her stomach plummeting as if descending on a roller-coaster. Was she ready for this? Was everything about to change on a late Friday afternoon in a cottage by the sea? Was her life story about to be rewritten? He buried his head into the nape of her neck, where her hair fell, and was silent for a moment. ‘Oh, Maddie,’ he whispered.
Just then, his phone started to beep and he abruptly pulled back. He reached for it in his pocket as she turned around to face him. He listened to his message intently. A deep frown was forming across his forehead and he sat up straight, glancing at his watch.
‘Damn. This was sent an hour ago and I’ve only just got it.’ He started to punch out a reply on text.
‘The signal’s really bad here.’ Maddie shifted up on the bed and looked at him. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s the centre, two of the kids. They wouldn’t normally call me – it’s my day off. I need to go. They’ve gone out on the canoes – haven’t come back; they’ve sent a boat out to look for them—’ He suddenly stopped and reached for her hand and squeezed it, then looked at her. ‘It’s getting dark,’ he said glancing out the window. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Go,’ she said and gently shoved him off the bed.
He leant in and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Don’t ever be sorry, Greg. I am…’ She couldn’t find the words. ‘I am just so thankful we’ve found each other again.’ And there, in that tiny bedroom by the sea, with the last of the sun filtering through the windows, he held her gaze with a look that scared her with its intensity.
Then he quickly turned and bounded down the stairs, two at time. The front door closed and she was alone with her thoughts. She lay back on the downy pillows and let out her breath. Her hand found the scarf still looped around her neck. She pulled it off and looked at it, twisted its soft silk through her fingers. Turquoise-blue with emerald-green and orange hummingbirds; she let it slide through her fingers. Eternity.
Yet despite the weak sun, despite the fact that the love of her life had just held her in his arms, she felt guilt stab her. Because there was a part of their story that Greg had never known; a huge part of the jigsaw that remained unspoken and it was up to her to tell him. What they needed was time, to reconnect, for her to explain. But now, with everything progressing this fast, she knew, more than ever, that she had to do it soon.
39
Maddie was standing behind the counter at the Shore Café with a yellow apron on, feeling confused. Lauren had called, desperate, and asked if she could do a shift today as her part-time student hadn’t turned up. She still wanted Maddie after Christmas, but Lauren had asked if she could come in today as she was stuck on her own.
‘Just press that button, there, to ring up the cakes.’ Lauren punched at the till. ‘Then this one here to add them together – got it?’
Maddie nodded and hoped that it would become easier.
The café was quite busy. It was due to close from Christmas Day for a week, but Sue had wanted it open for the last couple of days as there was a Christmas Fayre down by the beach and it usually meant a few more customers. According to Lauren, the café really needed to make some more money or it was in danger of closing.
Lauren was kneeling down, hastily filling up the small fridge under the counter with milk. ‘How’s things with the cottage?’
‘Yeah, great I’ve been decorating, erm, with some help.’ She couldn’t help but let out a giggle.
Lauren straightened up and put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh yes?’
Maddie nodded. ‘An old friend of mine is here and he’s been helping me.’ Maddie turned towards the coffee machine and started to wipe up some spilt milk.
‘Is that Greg Baker by any chance?’
Maddie swivelled her head round and stared at Lauren. ‘How do you know?’
‘News travels fast around here, hon.’ She winked at Maddie, then burst out laughing. ‘No, I know Deirdre, at the water sports centre. She works in the kitchens there and she knows a few of the windsurfing guys, who know Greg… said he’s been quite distracted lately.’
Maddie could feel herself blush. ‘Well, yes, he’s been a great help.’
‘Yeah, I think he’s been really brilliant at the centre. He’s there on a temp basis, isn’t he? The old manager was awful, and they had to find an interim manager quickly.’
‘Yup, that’s right.’ Maddie grinned, wiping up some crumbs from the counter.
‘Listen, I need to fetch some more milk – will you be all right on your own?’ Lauren swept some hair off her forehead and looked around to see how busy the café was.
‘Yes, but don’t be too long!’
When it was quieter, Maddie tidied up a few of the tables and loaded the small dishwasher. She stood, leaning on the counter and surveyed the café. It was a great little spot, right in the middle of the village, without much competition. She wondered why it wasn’t doing so well. Sure, it needed a bit of an overhaul. Those plastic tablecloths would have to go – she shuddered – but maybe it just needed something else? An injection of some of its own personality.
As she was mulling this over, the door opened and a man with a beanie, gold earring in one ear and sheepskin coat came in, rubbing his hands.
As he came up to the counter, Maddie smiled at him. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Latte please, and a slice of that cake.’ He pointed to a mud cake in the glass dome, cut into thick slices, chocolate sauce oozing from the sides.
‘Sure.’ Maddie made the coffee, trying to remember what Lauren had told her and then lifted a slice of cake onto a plate. ‘Visiting the island?’ she ventured.
‘Nope, not really. I’m down by the beach, one of the stallholders. Bloody freezing, so I’ve shut up shop for a bit to get warm.’
‘What do you sell?’
‘Dreams.’ He laughed.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Paintings – from all over the south coast. People tell me they have a dreamlike quality: seascapes, lighthouses, beach scenes. I paint some of them myself but I have a small collection of artists whose work I sell. Come down and see for yourself perhaps?’ He smiled at Maddie and took his coffee and cake to a table.
As she was wandering back to the counter, her phone beeped in her back pocket. It was Greg.
Sorry not to see you. Dealing with some heavy personal stuff with Tiggy. x
Did that mean they were getting b
ack together? Her stomach clenched. This week had been such a roller-coaster. She took her mind off it by filling up the sugar pots.
‘Bye!’ The stallholder was at the door, yanking it open.
‘Oh, see you.’ Maddie looked up and nodded at him, then she crossed the café to his table and cleared away his plates. She stood in the room looking around her as the seed of an idea started to form. She was sure that the shelves at the back could be put to better use; she just needed to figure out how. What had that man said, ‘selling dreams’? Perhaps, if she could figure out how, the Shore Café could sell more than just coffee and cake.
40
The village square was getting busier and busier. It was Christmas Eve and Maddie was back at Little Rowland for the Christmas Carol Mash-up. Rachel had persuaded her to come back.
C’mon, Maddie, the choir needs you! It’ll be fun.
The last week had been a bit of a blur, her mind processing everything that had happened, starting at the café, seeing Greg again and all that had followed. Every time her phone went, she got butterflies. He’d sent her a few texts messages apologising for not seeing her, had explained that the manager of the water sports centre, who was meant to be returning, wasn’t now and he was in the midst of a staffing crisis. But he’d also sent her quite a few flirty texts. It was enough just recalling their last time together. She was on cloud nine most of the time, but worried about the future, too. She had to talk to him properly soon.
Stalls had popped up selling coffee, mulled wine and mince pies. Crowds were forming by the low wall, marking the central square in Little Rowland. The post office, coffee shop and flower shop were adorned with tinsel and fairy lights had been woven across the shop awnings. Maddie loved the smell the cinnamon and rich fruit; her stomach rumbled as she breathed it in.
She couldn’t stop grinning. Life was good. For the last few days she’d been getting up about 8 a.m., the sun streaming in through her window. It had been unseasonably glorious. She and Taffie had made a habit of heading for the beach for long, bracing walks. The tide was always low, allowing her to walk further down on the shore, look for shells, and pick her way across the pretty marine debris that had been left, marvelling at the worm patterns. The sun was usually fully up by the time she finished, its honey-coloured glow glistening over the dark ocean.
Before leaving Maris Cottage, she’d been slowly finishing some touches: the blinds in the kitchen, the extra cushions in the lounge, hanging a few pictures on the walls – just charity shop finds, but it made the place feel like hers. She’d also finished the second coat of paint in the kitchen – it had transformed the tired kitchen into a fresher, brighter space, and the gingham blinds added a cheerful touch. She’d decided to paint her front door a bright apple-green instead of the dull mossy-green it had been. She’d then placed two blue ceramic pots outside the house and planted purple and white cyclamen in them. Standing back, yesterday, looking at Maris Cottage, she put her hands on her hips. Olive would have been proud.
The freshly painted walls coupled with the newly stained floors, looked modern and bright. Greg hadn’t been able to help the next day as he’d been busy at the centre after the two boys had been lost. Their parents had come down, and there was an enquiry about what went wrong. It turned out the boys had taken the canoes out without telling the supervisor.
New cream curtains framed the view in the lounge; all in all, the place was feeling much more ‘her’. It was good to have that feeling again.
She stamped her feet to keep warm, her breath billowing in soft grey plumes as she looked around the village square. What about this place? Was it home? Sure, it had been where Ed was at school, where she had a house – a house for sale, by the looks of it. Don’t go round there, Maddie, Tim had warned again via text the other day. Although it all felt familiar, she missed the briny sea air and Maris Cottage.
The choir members were gathering around her. There was Pete from the pet shop studying his hymn sheet, Sheila from the hairdresser’s had just come over to her and given her a hug, and Rachel was approaching her with a steaming coffee. She’d stayed the night with Rachel last night, but was going back to the Isle of Wight tonight, back on the ferry, back for Christmas. She hoped it wouldn’t feel weird. ‘But you’ll be on your own,’ Rachel had said last night, frowning at her. ‘Come stay with us, Maddie, Christmas is for family.’
She’d shaken her head emphatically. A new, firmer Maddie was emerging. ‘I need to get used to being on my own, Rachel; it will be fine. I need to find my new family, whatever that means,’ she’d said with a shrug. ‘And without Ed, it looks like it’s me and Taffie!’ Secretly, she wondered if she would see Greg, but she hugged that thought to herself; it wasn’t the time to talk to Rachel about it all, not until she’d unpicked all the emotions in her brain and worked out just how she felt.
They’d chatted about Tim, about his gambling. Rachel had seen him a few times in the village. ‘He looks awful, Maddie.’
Alan had told Maddie to be wary of him, not to agree to anything without taking advice. ‘It’s an illness, Maddie. I knew one bloke I used to work with – he lost his job, his house, his wife. Couldn’t kick the habit. Be careful. We’ve all talked to him, Maddie. Said we’d support him, but he has to do it himself.’
She knew Alan was right.
Thankfully, her last text from him had said he was starting counselling.
‘Will you remember the words?’ Rachel handed her the hot drink and Maddie took a mouthful of rich, smooth coffee, warming her up instantly.
‘Yes! I’ve been practising in the shower!’ She grinned, as the band started up. Maddie pulled her scarf tighter around her and looked at the running order.
First off was ‘Silent Night’. Maddie filled her lungs and started to belt out the old favourite. It felt good to sing again. She’d missed it, missed the choir and the community and what it meant to her.
It was just as she was ringing out the first line of ‘Oh come all ye faithful’ that she saw it. A familiar face in the crowd. The face had on a red Santa hat, and dark glasses, but it looked very much like…
‘Santa’ suddenly took his sunglasses off and grinned right at her.
‘Ed!’ she shrieked as the crowd turned to look at her. He smiled broadly, then darted over to her, wrapping his arms around her. ‘Merry Christmas, Mum!’
‘Oh, Ed, what a surprise!’ Tears prickled behind her eyes.
The choir leader coughed loudly, as they started ‘Oh Little Town of Bethlehem’ and Ed stood next to her, singing along. Once it was over, she pulled on his sleeve. ‘Quick, let’s go this way.’ They quietly manoeuvred to the edge of the choir, gave their sheets to a volunteer and popped a fiver into his tin.
‘Hungry?’
‘Starving. The plane food was awful!’
She took his hand as they wandered towards the Happy Hen on the corner of the square and sat down at one of the tables.
Two hot chocolates, two toasted cheese sandwiches and two mince pies were ordered. She looked over at Ed and beamed at his tanned face, and then caught sight of something new on his arm as he held his head in his hands. ‘Ed! A tattoo!’
The waitress came to the table and put down the food and drinks. Ed picked up the toasted sandwich and raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Yeah, me and Adity—’
Maddie tilted her head to one side. ‘Yes?’
‘Got matching tattoos.’ He shrugged.
It was a delicate outline of a lotus leaf, etched in black, with red petals. It was just on the inside of his wrist.
‘Nice.’
‘You think?’ Ed looked down at his wrist then took a bite of sandwich, wiping the melted cheese from his chin. ‘Bit impulsive. Bit drunk!’
‘Well, at least it’s a lotus leaf, not “I love Mum!”’ She grinned. ‘It’s good to have you back. How long you here for?’
‘It’s not for long I’m afraid.’ He frowned. ‘Sorry.’
‘But you’ll come to Maris Cottage wit
h me? Stay for Christmas?’ She held her breath. All her hopes had been raised when she saw him.
‘Of course – that’s why I’m here!’
She grinned at him and they ate in silence for a while.
Ed placed his napkin on the plate. ‘Hey, I felt awful the day of Aunt Olive’s funeral, by the way. I just kept looking at my watch and wondering what was going on, where you’d be. Thanks for sending a picture of the flowers. Dahlias, right?’
‘Yes, she loved them. Don’t worry. We had no money – no choice. Olive would have understood. Listen, I really appreciate you coming now – but how did you afford it?’
‘Adity’s dad lent me the money.’
‘That was good of him. It must be quite serious with you two? And you’ll pay him back?’ She looked over and he nodded.
‘Of course I will, Mum, don’t stress. I’ll pick up some work as a waiter when we’re travelling. It’s not too hard and I’ll send it back to him.’
‘Right.’ Maddie took a bite of her sandwich. ‘Anyway, you can go down to the bay,’ Maddie carried on, ‘when you’re at the cottage, look out to sea and you’ll see where I scattered the ashes. Her spirit, Ed, it still lives on, in the waves.’
Ed nodded, lost in thought. ‘I will.’
‘Tell me all about Thailand.’ Maddie touched his arm. ‘What have you been up to? You and Adity? Tell me everything!’ She laughed.
She looked over at her son with his dark curly hair, his strong jaw as he talked animatedly about the crystal-blue sea, about snorkelling and trekking in the jungle, and how he had nearly ‘died having a Thai massage’ – it hurt so much! It was meant to be relaxing! About Adity – how his eyes lit up when he spoke of her – about how she was also hoping to go university. About how they’d travelled on the railway up to the River Kwai, gone to the graveyard and stood, together, looking at the nine thousand Allied soldiers’ graves.