The Little Kiosk By The Sea

by Jennifer Bohnet

  ‘I’m sure we can find you somewhere,’ Harriet said, grateful that the moment to answer Ellie’s question about the house had passed. ‘There’s an old dinghy hung up in the rafters of the garage. Maybe we’ll get that down and I’ll teach you the basics.’

  Ellie turned to look at her in surprise. ‘Didn’t know you sailed, Mum.’

  ‘Sailing was always an essential part of growing up here,’ Harriet said. ‘Sabine and I both had dinghies. I learnt to swim at an early age too.’

  She smiled at Ellie. ‘Right. I’ll leave you to unpack and go and organise dinner. See you downstairs when you’re ready.’

  Back down in the kitchen, preparing the roast lamb, Harriet felt better than she had for months. She was confident everything was going to be all right. Ellie loved Dartmouth, she liked the house, and she felt they were as close as they had ever been. Pushing cloves of garlic under the lamb skin, Harriet resolved to tell Ellie the truth tonight after dinner rather than wait until tomorrow. Tonight, after a good meal, a glass or two of wine, when they were all feeling mellow, would be better.

  Washing the garlic off her hands, she realised she’d forgotten to pick some rosemary from the big bush halfway down the garden. Grabbing the kitchen scissors, she opened the back door to go and get some, at the same time as Ellie walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Back in two ticks,’ Harriet said. ‘Need rosemary.’

  When she arrived back with a big bunch of the herb, planning to hang the surplus to dry with the saucepans hanging on the kitchen-maid rack over the Aga, Ellie was nowhere to be seen.

  Peeling the potatoes, Harriet planned how she was going to raise the subject of the past after dinner. After all, she couldn’t jump straight into ‘so glad you like the house because it will be yours one day’ without some sort of lead up. The difficulty would be finding the right words to explain decisions that had been taken in the past.

  She glanced up as Ellie came back into the kitchen and froze as she saw what Ellie was holding. Time stood still as she stared at the small silver photo frame Ellie was holding. Where the hell had she found that?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  SABINE

  ‘Well, that went well,’ Owen said. ‘Peter seems happy with everything.’

  When Peter had left after supper, impatient to share his good news with his girlfriend, Sabine and Owen had taken their Irish coffees up to the studio. Like she had done so many times in the past, Sabine had kicked off her shoes before curling up on the settee alongside Owen. Relaxing together like the old friends they were. Now though, she stiffened at something in his voice and turned to look at him.

  ‘So he should,’ Sabine said. ‘You’re treating him like the prodigal son, giving him the family business.’

  ‘I’ve told you before, he’s the nearest I’m ever going to get to having a son,’ Owen said. ‘You and he are my family. Whatever happens in the future.’ He placed his drained glass on the coffee table, before catching hold of Sabine’s hand.

  ‘Marry me, Sabine. Make us into an official family and me the happiest man in Dartmouth.’

  ‘Oh, Owen,’ Sabine said. ‘I was beginning to think you’d decided to stop asking me.’

  As the silence between them lengthened, Owen let go of her hand, picked his drink up and took several mouthfuls.

  ‘I guess that’s a “no” again.’ He paused before saying quietly, ‘He’s not coming back you know. You’re wasting your life.’

  ‘Fourteen years after he died, I think I know that. And I haven’t wasted my life,’ Sabine said, irritated. Maybe the last fourteen years had been lived in the fog of an unrealistic daydream, but she’d still managed to bring Peter up to be a decent person. Surely her mothering skills counted for something?

  ‘Not Dave. Reid.’

  Sabine’s chest constricted in shock as she looked at Owen.

  ‘You knew about Reid? I never told anyone back then.’

  ‘You didn’t have to. Anybody seeing the two of you together could put two and two together and do the maths for themselves.’

  ‘Did Dave?’ her voice trailed away.

  Own shook his head. ‘No – but he never took to Reid either. Called him a smart-ass, as I recall. I’d never have introduced the two of you if I’d known what was going to happen.’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ Sabine said quietly. ‘I was never unfaithful to Dave.’ She fiddled with her glass. ‘All these years and you’ve never mentioned before that you knew. Why not?’

  ‘Guess I was waiting for you to tell me he was the reason you wouldn’t marry me after Dave died. Besides, if I didn’t acknowledge your feelings for him, I could kid myself I was still in with a chance.’

  Sabine hesitated before saying. ‘I learnt recently that he’s a serial divorcee.’

  ‘You’ve been in touch?’

  ‘Yes. The night of the party. After I told Harriet and admitted I still had his contact details, she talked me into phoning him. Said it would be a relief to know one way or another. Which I suppose it is.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Just damn demoralising at the same time.’

  Owen picked up her hand again and held it tightly. ‘I’d like to punch his lights out for hurting you.’

  Sabine gave a rueful smile. That sounded like a knight in shining armour coming to the rescue.

  ‘It’s my own fault for believing happy ever afters existed outside of fairy stories.’

  As for failing to realise and embrace the fact that the man sitting next to her holding her hand, had always been prepared to give her the happy ever after she longed for, she deserved the lonely old age she was heading straight for.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  HARRIET

  ‘Mum, have you seen this? The woman in this photo holding a baby looks just like you did years ago.’ Ellie held out the silver photo frame for Harriet to look at.

  ‘You’ve been in Am … the locked room?’ Had she been through the drawers and found the other photos – the ones she’d removed from the sitting room mantelpiece? Carefully she put the potato peeler down and looked at Ellie.

  ‘I was being nosey,’ Ellie said, shrugging. ‘I saw the key hanging on the hook and wondered if it was to that room. Can’t understand why people would lock a room and then leave the key in full view. This was on the desk.’ She looked at Harriet. ‘You’ve gone pale.’ She glanced down at the photo again before looking up and saying slowly. ‘It is you, isn’t it? Is the baby me?’ She held the photo out to show Harriet.

  Harriet briefly glanced at the picture. ‘Yes it is me. And … yes, the baby is you.’

  Taken at Ellie’s christening, she barely recognised her younger self. How the hell had Ellie? Damn. Having carefully cleared all the shelves in the study of any incriminating photos, she’d left the piles of paper on the desk undisturbed, not realising there was another photo there as well.

  ‘There’s something we have to tell you – which Dad and I were planning to do this evening,’ Harriet added quickly. ‘After dinner.’ Where was Frank now when she needed him?

  Ellie shook her head. ‘Can’t wait that long. Come on, Mum, spill the beans about how a photo of us is in an unknown house we’ve rented.’

  Harriet moved across to the dresser where she’d placed an open bottle of red to breathe ready for dinner. ‘Pass me two glasses, will you?’ she said, indicating the shelf behind Ellie. ‘Then sit down.’

  Wordlessly, Ellie got the glasses and sat at the table while Harriet poured them both some wine.

  ‘Cheers,’ Harriet said before taking a gulp. ‘Oh dear, this is difficult. Can we not wait for Dad to be here?’

  She took another gulp of wine when Ellie said, ‘No.’

  ‘Okay, here goes. To start with, Ellie, this house belonged to Amy, your aunt. We both spent a lot of time here when you were tiny.’

  ‘You’ve never ever mentioned her before,’ Ellie said.

  ‘There’s a lot of things I’ve never mentioned before,’ Harriet said quie
tly. ‘Amy died earlier this year. Despite not having been in touch for nearly thirty years, you and I were named as the main benefactors of her will – provided I agreed to a couple of conditions.’

  Harriet swirled the wine around her glass and took a drink before saying, ‘Which I have. So, this house now belongs to me.’

  ‘What were the conditions?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to sell the house – it has to come to you when I die. That was easy enough to accept. The second clause was harder. I had to agree to live here for a year in order for you to receive a legacy of your own.’

  ‘Why it was so hard to agree to live here? It’s your home town. I’ve never really understood why we didn’t come here for visits in the past. And why a legacy for me?’

  ‘Long, sordid story which Amy’s will has dragged into the present. Before I tell you, please believe me when I say I’ve wanted to tell you many times in the past, but for various reasons – fear of upsetting you mainly – I didn’t.’ Harriet paused before continuing. ‘It’s your home town too. Aunt Amy was one of your godmothers. The other is Sabine. The thirty year absence was because I ran away, taking you with me.’

  ‘You left Dad?’

  Harriet took a deep breath. ‘No, I didn’t leave Frank. I left your father.’ The words fell into a silence that lengthened for several long seconds before Ellie said, ‘Dad isn’t … Dad?’

  ‘He is definitely your dad – both officially in that he adopted you when you were three and because he truly loves you. But no, he isn’t your biological father.’

  ‘Who’s my real father? Why did you run away?’

  ‘Because your father had an affair,’ Harriet said, answering the second question and ignoring the first for the time being.

  Ellie spluttered. ‘Is that all? You ran away because of that? Why didn’t you stay and fight for him? I presume you loved him.’

  ‘It wasn’t the same in those days,’ Harriet said, wishing Frank would hurry up and return so she didn’t have to have this conversation with Ellie on her own.

  ‘It was the town’s scandal of the decade. Everyone was talking about the vicar’s wife’s affair with a parishioner. And that was before she became pregnant. There was even talk of the church funds being embezzled – thankfully that wasn’t true. I left because I couldn’t stand being the object of ridicule or pity.’

  ‘She was a vicar’s wife?’

  Mutely Harriet nodded.

  ‘Was she a friend?’

  Harriet shook her head. ‘I knew her, of course. We met for the first time in this house but we never really got the chance to be friends. She was only here a couple of months before she stole my husband.’

  ‘What’s the name of this woman?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Yes, of course it does. I need to know all the details.’

  ‘Vanessa Harford,’ Harriet said reluctantly.

  ‘And my father’s name?’

  ‘Oscar. Oscar Widdicombe.’

  ‘Do you know where he is now? Can I meet him? I want to know what he’s like. I know you think you acted in my best interests concealing things all these years, but I have the right to meet my real father. Which I intend to do.’

  Harriet bit her lip as she looked at Ellie. ‘I’m sorry, love. He died about a year before Amy.’ Her words fell into a silence that lengthened

  ‘You should have told me before. Given me the chance to meet him,’ Ellie said. She drained her glass of wine in three large gulps and stood up. ‘I’m going out – I need to think. I can’t believe this.’

  ‘Dad will be back soon for dinner.’ Harriet protested.

  ‘You mean “Frank” will be back. I’m not hungry any more,’ Ellie said. ‘I’ll see you later.’ She was gone, the front door closing noisily behind her.

  Frank, returning half an hour later, found Harriet sobbing in the kitchen as she tried to baste the lamb through her tears.

  ‘You’ve finally told her, then?’ he said, taking the roasting tray from her and replacing it in the oven, before taking her in his arms.

  Harriet sank against him gratefully. ‘Yes, and it’s all gone wrong.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  Harriet shrugged. ‘Went out. Said she wasn’t hungry.’ She moved out of Frank’s arms and reached for a piece of kitchen paper to wipe her eyes.

  ‘Oh, Frank, what have I done? We were having such a good time together before she found a photo of me holding her and started asking questions. I SO wish you’d been here. I’ve hurt her so much and I don’t know what to do now.’

  ‘When she gets back, we’ll sit her down and talk to her together. Explain our reasons for taking the decisions we did. It’s all a bit of a shock but I know she’ll come round. Angry at first but things will sort. When is her solicitor’s appointment?’

  ‘Day after tomorrow,’ Harriet said. ‘I hadn’t even told her about that before she went out.’

  Ellie hadn’t returned when dinner was ready and Harriet and Frank sat in silence at the table, Harriet literally finding herself unable to swallow the meal she’d prepared. Frank’s usual hearty appetite seemed diminished too. Harriet cleared the table, offered Frank another glass of wine before topping up her own glass and said, ‘Think I might make a start on Amy’s study.’

  ‘Do you want a hand?’

  Harriet shook her head. ‘Not right now, thanks. I really want to be by myself for a bit.’

  In the study she pulled out Amy’s office chair and sat facing the computer for several moments before swivelling around and facing the rest of the room. Where to start? So many books. So many files and boxes. What to do with the all the stuff? Who knew whether Amy had any more secrets to be discovered?

  Harriet sighed. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to tackle it on her own. Once Ellie’s appointment with Trevor Bagshawe was out of the way, she’d ask both Frank and Ellie to give her a hand sorting it out. Doing it as a family could be a way to help ease Ellie’s pain. Talk it all out as they sorted Amy’s things.

  One thing she could do though now the secret was out, was to put the photos she’d hidden away out on display again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  RACHEL

  Sitting in her favourite place, on the top step under the jasmine-covered arch over the three stone steps that led down from the terrace to her small garden, Rachel sniffed the air appreciatively. Early evening and the sweet smell of the night-scented jasmine was heady.

  Sipping her glass of rosé, Rachel tried to marshal her chaotic thoughts into some sort of order. To try to make some firm decisions.

  The sounds of BB in the kitchen preparing supper for them both drifted out through the open window. Offering BB the spare room had turned out to be one of her better decisions. He was an excellent lodger – more of a friend now than simply a lodger – he’d slotted into the house and her life so well. It was like having Hugo living at home again.

  Hugo. Now she had to think about his email that had pinged into her mailbox an hour ago. Suggesting a date for the family to visit. Restlessly Rachel stood up and began to move around the garden, stopping to pull the occasional weed, smell a rose, before leaning against the trunk of the gnarled apple tree that should really be pulled up, all the while trying to sort out things in her mind.

  What had Hugo said before she left France? Something about life throwing curved balls into plans. Well, her life had certainly had enough curved balls thrown into it over the years to scupper a national cricket team. The fall out from last year’s expected but unhappy event had certainly changed her life. Leaving France was meant to set her on the right course for the rest of her life. She didn’t need another of those blasted curved balls winging its way towards her.

  One she’d never anticipated. One, if she were truthful, she didn’t know how to handle. Running away to avoid the situation that was closing in around her was becoming more and more appealing. But how to explain her reasoning to Hugo? Where to run? Hugo and his f
amily she knew would welcome her back to France. Had never wanted her to leave. Or should she go somewhere completely new? Somewhere she could be herself, where the past didn’t intrude on the present.

  ‘Another glass of rosé before supper?’ BB called from the kitchen.

  ‘Thanks,’ Rachel said. She stood up and began to make her way back to the kitchen. ‘Something smells good.’

  ‘Chicken with orange and tarragon. My Mom’s favourite supper dish,’ BB said. ‘Ready in about fifteen minutes.’ He glanced at her. ‘You looked deep in thought out there.’

  Rachel nodded but didn’t explain, saying instead, ‘Shall we eat out here? I’ll fetch everything.’ To her relief BB didn’t press her about her thoughts as she covered the table with a cloth and fetched the cutlery.

  An hour later, as they finished their meal and Rachel said, ‘Truly delicious, BB, thank you,’ the doorbell rang.

  ‘Bit late for visitors,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Do you want me to go?’ BB asked.

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ Rachel said, standing up as the doorbell peeled urgently again.

  Johnnie was standing on the doorstep with a tearful Carla in his arms. As Rachel opened the door, the child leant towards her holding out her arms. Touched, Rachel scooped the child into her own arms and hugged her tight. She sensed Johnnie’s relief as Carla’s arms went around her neck and she quietened.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry to land on you,’ Johnnie said. ‘But I’m at my wits’ end. I’d have gone to Sabine but she’s out tonight.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ Rachel said. ‘Come on through to the terrace.’

  ‘She’s been grumpy all day,’ Johnnie said. ‘I was hoping once I put her to bed she’d sleep and wake up happier. But if anything, she’s got worse.’

  He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Is she ill? Should I have gone to the doctors?’