by Heidi Swain
I heard the woman with the bags follow me inside and breathe a sigh of relief as she put them down. For a moment I had a horrible feeling the cottage had been double-booked but then it dawned on me who she was.
‘You must be Sam,’ I said, confident that I had made the right assumption.
‘No,’ she smiled, quickly closing the door on the rain. ‘Sam’s the cottage owner and landlord of the Smuggler’s next door. I’m Sophie. I’m a friend of his.’
‘Oh,’ I said, glancing around the room again and this time noticing that things weren’t perhaps looking quite as perfect as they should. The sofa cushions definitely needed plumping and the shade on the table lamp was a little askew, ‘I see.’
Sophie followed my gaze.
‘Sam had an unexpected appointment this afternoon,’ she explained, ‘so he asked me to welcome you. It’s just the finishing touches to see to now, but I’m sorry it’s not been done yet. It’s been a bit of a rush for me to get around. Usually Sam would see to everything himself and in plenty of time.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ I told her. Slightly flat cushions and a wonky lampshade aside, it was still lovely. ‘It looks great to me, even prettier than I imagined it would be.’
Sophie looked relieved.
‘I’m Tess, by the way,’ I added. My excitement to have finally made it over the cottage threshold had momentarily robbed me of my manners and I had failed to introduce myself. ‘Tess Tyler. Though I’m guessing you know that already.’
Just for a moment Sophie’s smile faltered.
‘Tyler?’ She frowned.
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Tess,’ she said. ‘Welcome to Crow’s Nest Cottage.’
‘Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be here.’
I was just about to go into how I had dreamed of coming back to Wynmouth for years, but a sudden rumble of thunder made us both jump and Sophie carried on the conversation before I did.
‘Sam was so pleased you could come at such short notice,’ she said as she quickly straightened the shade and flicked on the lamp and then turned on another next to the fire.
The room looked even cosier bathed in a peachy warm glow, but it was chilly. Certainly chilly for May, I realized as I gave an involuntary shudder. I’d only packed a couple of jumpers and one pair of jeans. Everything else I’d treated myself to on my speedy shopping trip was geared up for much warmer weather.
‘These old walls take a while to heat up in the summer,’ said Sophie, noticing my goosebumps. ‘And we haven’t had the sunniest of starts this year.’
I hoped there would be at least a few hot days to come. I didn’t much fancy getting to know the beach again under the protection of an umbrella. Not that I would be using one in a thunderstorm. Right on cue the lights flickered and another boom, closer this time, rolled overhead.
‘Thor is in a grump this afternoon,’ Sophie mused, looking out at the sky. ‘Why don’t I get these bags unpacked and the kettle on while you explore and then I’ll light the log burner. It will heat the hot water and radiators and warm the place up in no time.’
‘That would be great,’ I said appreciatively, ‘but can’t I give you a hand? What is it that you’ve got there?’
‘It’s your welcome pack,’ she explained. ‘Lots of lovely local produce and a few essentials so you don’t have to venture to the shops for a couple of days, unless you want to of course.’
‘That’s such a kind thought.’
‘It should have all been ready for your arrival so I wouldn’t have to interrupt you at all,’ she confided, ‘but I had a last-minute influx of customers and couldn’t close up early today. Not that I’m complaining, but I am sorry to intrude before you’ve had a chance to even boil the kettle.’
‘It’s really no bother,’ I told her, because I didn’t mind at all. Sophie’s warm welcome was exactly what I would have expected from a Wynmouth resident. ‘Do you work in the pub with Sam?’
‘Occasionally,’ she told me, ‘but I have my own business too. It’s a café.’
‘A café?’
‘Yes, right next to the beach.’
I wondered if she had taken on the boarded-up building I could remember, which was near where the tractors pulled the boats in and out of the sea. That was right next to the beach but had been long abandoned when I knew it. I had always thought it was spooky but the local kids I sometimes hung out with used to dare each other to break in and graffiti the walls. If that was the place Sophie was referring to, it must have taken a miracle to transform it.
‘Because of the weather, it’s not particularly busy at the moment,’ she continued, ‘so I can’t very well turn folk away when they find me, even if they do come a little outside the regular opening hours.’
‘Of course not,’ I agreed, ‘and as I said, it’s no problem at all.’
While Sophie unpacked, I went off to explore and found the rest of the cottage was every bit as pretty as the sitting room. There was just the one bedroom upstairs with a large welcoming brass-framed bed complete with lavender-scented fresh linen and a bathroom with a roll-top bath which I couldn’t wait to relax into.
The view from the bedroom was of the lane in front but on tiptoe from the bathroom at the back I could just see the curve of the coast and the cliffs where the static vans Mum, Dad and I stayed in were pitched. I wondered if the beach huts were still there too. I would have to take a walk to find out, once the weather had improved.
‘Do you take sugar?’ Sophie called, just as I was remembering my last trip to the huts. ‘I’ve made a pot of tea.’
The doors of the wood burner were open when I went back down and warm tendrils of heat were already making their way into the room.
‘No thank you,’ I said. ‘Just a splash of milk would be great.’
Sophie handed me a mug and explained how to stoke the fire as I’d never been in charge of one before and then she closed the doors so the radiators would heat up faster. It all sounded simple enough and looking at the contents of the fridge and cupboards I knew I probably wouldn’t have to buy another morsel to eat during my entire visit. Joan would have been delighted.
‘What’s that lovely smell?’ I asked as my stomach caught a heavenly scent and hastily reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
‘Your dinner,’ Sophie smiled, ‘assuming you aren’t allergic to seafood?’
‘I’m not,’ I quickly reassured her. ‘I’m not allergic to anything.’
As I took in the delicious aroma, I was rather relieved about that.
‘It was on the pub menu today,’ she explained. ‘I supply some of the heartier dishes you see, and I saved a serving for you from earlier. You’ll just have to heat it up when you want it later. I’ve put it on the side for now.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, inhaling again. ‘Is it a curry?’
‘Sort of,’ she nodded. ‘It’s a bit of a foodie fusion really. My aunt’s Caribbean curried crab with coconut recipe, but made with fresh Norfolk crab.’
‘Wow,’ I laughed. ‘What a fantastic combination. I have to admit it’s not what I would have expected to find on a pub menu in Wynmouth, but I can’t wait to try it.’
Sophie looked delighted by my enthusiasm and my stomach gave another embarrassingly loud rumble. It almost matched Thor’s efforts.
‘You don’t have to wait for dinner time of course,’ she nudged. ‘You can eat whenever you like on holiday.’
‘I didn’t have any lunch,’ I told her. ‘The journey took longer than I expected and I didn’t want to stop.’
Sophie eyed me astutely.
‘You sound like my daughter,’ she nodded. ‘She’s about the same age as you and she never used to make mealtimes much of a priority either. That’s all changed now,’ she added, flashing me another smile before checking her watch. ‘But look at the time!’ she exclaimed. ‘I have to go. If there’s anything you need just pop next door and a
sk. Although,’ she added as she reached the front door, ‘I’d wait until this storm has passed, if I were you.’
She ducked out into the rain and headed back towards the pub, banging the wonky gate behind her in her haste. I picked up the cracked flower pot, carried it inside and set it down on the hearthstone before checking the fire. I could hear the radiators were gurgling into life and didn’t think it would be long before I was able to run myself a bath.
Once I was happy with the fire I sat on the sofa, reached for my bag and automatically pulled out my phone.
‘Don’t even go there,’ I sternly told myself as I toyed with the idea of turning it back on.
It really would be better if I didn’t see Dad’s reaction to my defection. My text had been brief, but clear enough.
Hi Dad. In view of the fact that I haven’t been feeling all that well recently, and that Chris has proved himself more than capable of handling things in the office, I’ve decided to take a break. As you may recall, it’s been quite some time since I took a holiday so I’m sure you’ll understand. I’ll keep you posted as to when I plan to come back. Please, don’t worry about me. See you soon. Tess x
I was pretty certain he would be raging like a bear with a sore head by now. I had added the ‘don’t worry’ to remind him to look beyond his temper and try to think of me as his daughter for once instead of his employee. I was rather proud that I hadn’t said sorry for taking off. I had recently found myself all too often apologizing for things I had no reason to be sorry for.
Before I gave in to temptation, I took the phone and my charger and deposited it into one of the drawers under the old pine table which stood in the window.
‘Out of sight,’ I muttered to myself, ‘out of mind.’
Or at least that was what I hoped.
Chapter 4
I went to bed early that night completely blissed out after my delicious dinner (courtesy of Sophie’s clever culinary skills), and the longest soak in the tub. I could have stayed in the bath all night, had it not been for fear of turning into a prune. The bed was extremely comfortable and as the storm headed off, I cracked the window open a little so I could fall asleep listening to the sound of the waves as they rolled in and broke on the shore.
Considering the jumbled-up state of my emotions, I slept more soundly than I could have hoped and dreamt of my last adventure down at the beach huts. Waking to the sound of gulls and feeling refreshed and revived as opposed to slightly panicked as my phone alarm blared out was a wonderful feeling. It was still an early start, but then I’d already fathomed that some old habits were going to be hard to break.
I took a moment to stretch out in the bed, tried to dismiss how alien it felt not to already be scanning through my inbox, and wondered if any of the local kids I used to hang around with still lived in the village. We had only ever been on first-name terms and I probably wouldn’t be able to recognize them now, but I would keep my eyes peeled for familiar faces, nonetheless. Surely, there was one I would recognize should I happen to bump into him.
When I eventually opened the curtains, I was delighted to see that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and in stark contrast to when I arrived the air felt warm. I wouldn’t be needing an umbrella today or an extra layer. While waiting for the kettle to boil I opened the back door which led out into a tiny walled courtyard. It was too damp to sit out, but I would certainly be making use of the bistro set as soon as the sun had dried everything enough.
‘Good morning!’ called a smartly dressed elderly gentleman with a Jack Russell terrier on a lead when I set off to explore a short while later.
I hadn’t been planning to head out quite so soon, but after my first caffeine hit of the day, my brain had been determined to lead my body to the drawer where I’d stashed my phone and so I was sensibly putting temptation firmly out of reach. I’d also added Mum’s diary to the drawer and even though I wanted to read more, I thought I would benefit from winding down a bit before I picked it up again.
It was a novelty to be heading out so soon after I had decided to go though. With no work to go to, I had realized there was no need to straighten my hair into submission, or waste time on flawless make-up. It was all very liberating, although I had still mascaraed my lashes and applied a slick of lip gloss.
‘Morning,’ I smiled back, before jumping out of the way to let the beach tractor by.
The driver stared down at me and carried on, and then nodded to the old man as the machine trundled slowly and noisily by.
‘Are you heading down to the beach, my dear?’ the man asked as I looked up and down the lane, checking for more vehicles.
‘If I don’t get run over first,’ I told him.
‘Are you here on holiday?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m staying in Wynmouth for a couple of weeks.’ The words made my heart race. ‘You?’
‘Visiting my sister. She moved here a few years ago after she lost her husband.’
‘She’s a local then.’
‘Oh, dear me, no,’ the man laughed before turning up the road which led to the pub car park. ‘You have to have lived here for seven generations to be considered a local. At least!’
He brandished the walking stick he was carrying and pottered on.
‘Bye!’ I called after him. ‘Nice to meet you.’
My breath caught in my chest as I stepped out of the lane and on to the seawall and I allowed myself time to absorb the beautiful view I had been craving in recent weeks.
‘You’re here, Tess,’ I whispered, a smile slowly spreading across my face. ‘You’re actually here.’
The tide was out so far the sea was hardly in sight and the beach seemed to stretch into the distance forever. I rushed down the steps, on to the pristine sand and pulled off my sandals. I didn’t care about the chill beneath my feet, I wanted to let my toes sink into the silky sand. The heady cocktail of pure and wholly natural sensations surrounding me and the plethora of emotions rushing through me, brought a lump to my throat. Standing there, taking it all in, I felt proud that I had put myself first for once, taken the plunge and run away to the seaside, rather than resolutely powering on at work.
I instinctively turned left, shielding my eyes from the welcome glare of the sun and spotted the rockpools not too far away and the tops of the beach huts in the distance beyond them. It was all still here then and, at first glance, exactly as I remembered it. I pictured Mum, wearing her sundress and reading in a deckchair as I explored the pools, and Dad poring over the newspapers beneath the shade of a striped beach umbrella.
Everything had seemed so simple then; we were a happy family with uncomplicated lives and we might not have had much money to throw about, but it never mattered, not to me anyway. As I imagined my pre-teen self skipping about and yelping as I darted in and out of the chilly sea, I knew these happy memories were made long before Mum had written her heart-wrenching diary. How I would have loved to turn back the clock and warn her of what was to come. I would have given anything to keep things as they had been before the business, among other things, became the focus of my father’s ambitious attention.
I gave myself a little shake and turned away, striding out towards where I knew the sea was waiting, picking up the odd bit of litter and stuffing it in my pockets as I went. I would explore the pools when I had purchased a bucket and net. With two weeks at my disposal, there was absolutely no need to rush to discover every delight Wynmouth had to offer on my very first day.
With no phone glued to my hand, I had absolutely no idea what the time was. It felt strange, deviating from my self-imposed strict schedule and, if I was being completely honest, a little unsettling not having that uninterrupted connection to the wider world, but I pushed the feeling away and carried on.
Sometime later, with my pockets pleasingly weighed down with pebbles and smooth fragments of soft green sea glass, I left the beach and made for the pub, purposefully ignoring the call of my mobile as I walked by the cottage door. It thou
ght it wouldn’t hurt to introduce myself to Sam, the landlord, and I wanted to leave thanks for Sophie for both the welcome pack and the delicious dinner.
I found the pub door open, but it looked so shaded inside after the brightness on the beach, that I couldn’t make out if I could go in or not.
‘Are you open?’ I called through the door and into the darkness within.
‘If the door’s open,’ came a man’s deep voice in quick reply, ‘we’re open.’
‘Great,’ I said, taking a step inside but finding my way blocked by the owner of the voice who was carrying a large chalkboard sign in his arms.
‘I was just about to put the board out,’ he elaborated, squeezing tightly past and treating me to a delicious breath of woody aftershave before I had a chance to step out of the way. ‘I’m doing breakfasts today, if you fancy a bite?’
What I fancied, I quickly discovered, when I saw him in the light of day, was him. His sun-streaked blonde hair, ready smile and sparkling green eyes caught me off guard and I suddenly felt far hotter than I had from the brisk walk back from the beach.
‘I really just wanted a coffee,’ I swallowed, pressing myself back into the wall so he could get by again. ‘If that’s okay?’
‘Of course,’ he nodded, stepping up behind the bar and turning to look at me properly.
Was it my imagination, or did he, just for a second or two, seem to be caught off guard too? His eyes certainly seemed to widen as they lingered on my face and the flush spreading across his tanned features almost matched my own. He opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to change his mind and cleared his throat instead.
‘Personally, this sea air makes me want to eat for England,’ he finally said, his composure apparently recovered, ‘but one coffee coming right up. Americano?’
‘Please,’ I said, looking about me while he had his back turned. ‘That would be great.’
Even though my eyes had adjusted to the change in light level, the inside of the pub was still shadowy and completely unknown to me as I had never been inside before. The interior featured a lot of dark furniture, an immense fireplace, tall ship paraphernalia, tarnished tankards hanging above the bar and deep windowsills piled with artful arrangements of old books and stoneware beer bottles. Nothing looked as if it had been touched in years, but that all seemed to be part of the place’s traditional charm. Without the distraction of a screen in front of me, I was able to take in all of the tinier details and they were lovely.