by Heidi Swain
‘He was a right tearaway back in the day,’ Mike carried on. ‘Always stirring up trouble when he was a lad.’
‘Well, he’s not a lad anymore, is he?’ said Sam, sounding cross. ‘So stop bloody gossiping.’
Mike slipped away and I picked up the glasses.
‘Thanks for these,’ I said to Sam.
By the time I found Joe in the snug, there was no time to ask him anything other than how his week had been before George took to the floor and quickly set about thrilling and terrifying us all in equal measure. I was desperate to find out the history between Sam, Joe and Hope but, for the present, I had to be satisfied with hearing about Wynmouth’s history.
My favourite tale from the evening explained why the young sailor was painted on the village sign. Apparently, the lad had been in love with a girl from the village but her father wouldn’t allow the match. Heartbroken, the lad had signed up to crew on a ship heading for the Caribbean. If he couldn’t marry his life’s love, then he wanted to be as far away as possible.
The day before he was supposed to leave, he turned up to wish the girl goodbye but found her missing. She had left a note and her family were frantic. She had run off with the intention of stowing away on the ship so the pair could be together, but they never saw each other again.
The lad didn’t make it back to port before the ship set sail and news reached him that it was wrecked just three days into its journey. His love was lost and he killed himself shortly after. It was now said that he haunted the Wynmouth shoreline, walking backwards and forwards with a lantern, calling out to sea for the girl who had perished in the waves.
‘And that’s why I never walk Skipper on the beach at night,’ George quietly finished and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
‘That’s so sad,’ I sighed.
‘And scary,’ Joe shuddered. ‘I don’t much like the thought of ghostly apparitions walking up and down the beach. That sailor could be practically on your doorstep, Tess.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ I squeaked.
‘Don’t worry,’ he nudged, ‘Bruce and I will walk you home.’
There was no sign of Hope or Sophie when we left and all we got out of Sam was a terse nod.
‘Why do I get the feeling there’s not much love lost between you and our lovely landlord?’ I asked Joe, once we were outside in the refreshing but still blustery air.
‘Because there isn’t,’ he sighed, letting Bruce’s lead lengthen so he could explore the empty lane.
‘And why is that?’
Joe didn’t answer straightaway and I thought I’d over-stepped the mark. I wanted to ask how he knew Hope too, but he clearly wasn’t keen to share.
‘How about I take you out for coffee on Friday,’ he surprised me by suggesting, ‘somewhere further afield than Wynmouth, and I’ll tell you then.’
I was about to turn him down, but then I remembered my earlier determination to try and keep busy and besides, my curiosity about the situation was aroused, even if it wasn’t any of my business.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Great,’ said Joe, taking a step closer to help me as I fumbled with the rickety garden gate. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss my cheek, but he didn’t get the chance.
Bruce let out another ear-splitting bark and dragged him back up the lane, leaving me looking after him and laughing.
‘See you Friday!’ Joe called over his shoulder.
‘Yes, Friday!’ I called back.
Chapter 12
The next day dawned sunny and bright and with the electricity supply thankfully restored. The heat warmed my neck and shoulders as I walked down to the beach after breakfast and, had I not witnessed the weather of the previous few days for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it had been so rough.
‘Good morning, my dear,’ said George, as he and Skipper fell into step next to me. ‘Did you manage to get some sleep last night?’
‘Surprisingly, I did,’ I told him. ‘Although I seem to remember my dreams featuring a ghostly apparition with a glowing lamp walking up and down the beach.’
George nodded.
‘I’m not surprised,’ he said. ‘It’s a tragic tale and not easily forgotten.’
‘I daresay the two lovers passed each other on the road in their attempt to reach each other, didn’t they?’
‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘you might be right. The young girl would have no doubt been in disguise so her beau could easily have missed her and she would have shied away from folk on the path for fear of discovery. Dear me.’
‘The path to true love certainly didn’t run smoothly for that pair, did it?’ I said.
‘No,’ he said, untangling Skipper’s lead, ‘or for the lasses of Wynmouth now either, it seems.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes,’ he said, with a mischievous smile, ‘now.’
‘Whatever do you mean, George?’ I frowned.
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t notice all that posturing between the two most handsome men in the pub last night!’
‘What?’
‘Sam and that Joe Upton fella,’ he said, before adding with a nudge, ‘what a pretty pair those two make, hey?’
‘George!’ I laughed.
‘What?’ he said innocently. ‘I might be getting on a bit, but I can still spot a good-looking guy when I see one. Or in this case, two. And I can certainly see when they’ve got their eyes set on the same beautiful young lady.’
Yes, I supposed it had been obvious that Joe had more than a friendly look in his eye when he spotted Hope, even though she was already spoken for.
‘Um,’ I agreed, wishing I already knew the history between the three of them.
‘Must be nice to have your pick,’ George added wistfully.
‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘I suppose it must.’
George went to say something else, but just like Bruce the night before, Skipper was in no mood to hang about, especially when he spotted someone else he recognized.
‘Oh, there’s Thomas,’ said George, literally following his little dog’s lead, ‘will you excuse me, Tess? I’m sorry to rush off but I need to talk to him.’
‘No worries,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you later.’
He rushed off, brandishing his walking stick and I carried on towards the beach huts. With the weather finally looking up, I was determined to get a proper look at them.
‘Morning,’ said a young mum, as I skirted around the rockpools, which were almost all surrounded by fascinated underwater enthusiasts. ‘Isn’t it lovely to finally see the sun?’
‘Morning,’ I smiled back, as her daughter began to screech that she’d spotted a starfish. ‘Yes, it is.’
I was almost tempted to stop and admire her five-legged find, but I carried on. I would find out for myself what surprises awaited me in the pools when I decided the time was right to explore them. They, and their intriguing inhabitants, were always such a highlight that I knew it would be worth the wait.
The beach huts were all let, and the majority were opened up, their residents enjoying tea brewed on tiny stoves and reading the morning papers on the little wooden verandas. The huts reminded me of the rainbow-patterned playhouse I had as a child. It seemed to me that, even as adults, we never really grew out of wanting to play house in miniature form.
I stopped and looked towards the back of the one where Joe and I had kissed. I didn’t know what I expected to see or feel, but there was no thunderbolt or golden glow around the magical spot, just sand and a Marram grass backdrop. I wondered if the lack of sparkle was the result of having met the boy and him knocking over the pedestal I had put the cherished moment on by not remembering it at all.
‘You all right, love?’ asked a chap who was sitting in a deckchair just next to where I had stopped.
‘Yes,’ I said, giving myself a little shake. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologize,’ he said, ‘you looked miles away. Are you sure you’re
all right?’
I had actually been years, rather than miles, away.
‘Yeah,’ I said again, ‘I’m okay, thanks.’
I walked back to the cottage feeling a little disappointed, and found a note from Joe on the mat, written on the back of a receipt from an agricultural supplier. He said he would pick me up at one the next day and that he had booked somewhere for afternoon tea.
That sounded far more formal than going out for coffee and I hoped Joe hadn’t got the wrong idea about us. We might have shared a kiss already, not that he had remembered it, but having got my fingers burnt over my feelings for Sam, I was steering clear of all love interests for the foreseeable future.
I looked at the scribbled note and scolded myself for being so presumptuous. I was new to the village and Joe was only recently back in it. Having fatefully met, surely it was only natural that we would gravitate towards one another? We were going out for cucumber sandwiches and loose-leaf tea, not an intimate candlelit dinner for two after all.
*
‘Wow!’ was the first thing Joe said when I opened the door to him that Friday. ‘Tess, you look gorgeous.’
‘Thank you,’ I smiled, feeling my face flush. ‘You look rather smart yourself.’
He bowed in response.
I had only packed two dresses, and thankfully this one was floaty, floral and ideal for an afternoon tea excursion. Teamed with smart sandals, my toenails painted the same shade of pink as my fingernails, and with a structured wicker bag over my shoulder, it was a pretty ensemble and I was pleased with the result.
‘And I like your hair like that,’ said Joe, rushing to open the door of the Land Rover, which I could see had had a bit of a clean. ‘It suits you, as do the freckles.’
I had let my hair air dry to emphasize the curls I was usually so keen to straighten and left them loose.
‘I’m not really a fan of freckles,’ I said, conscious of my now speckled shoulders, neck and face, ‘but they seem to like me.’
Usually in the summer, I covered them with layers of make-up but in Wynmouth I had become as detached from my make-up bag as I had from my phone. I was surprised by how confident I felt with this less polished version of myself and it was liberating to leave so many of my products and cosmetics untouched.
‘They certainly do,’ Joe smiled, his eyes lingering on mine as he climbed into the driving seat. ‘Right, let’s go,’ he said, when he checked the mirror and saw Sam writing on the chalkboard outside the pub.
‘No Bruce today?’ I said, looking in the back at where the mutinous mutt had been confined after almost tipping me off the cliff. ‘Is he not a fan of afternoon tea? He seemed to enjoy Caribbean curry crumbs the other night.’
Joe shook his head.
‘The little bugger has been more Hulk than Banner today, so Charlie’s dealing with him,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘He’s his dog after all and besides, the place we’re going to doesn’t allow loopy labs.’
‘Charlie?’
‘My older brother.’
‘Who runs your family farm.’
‘Allegedly,’ Joe muttered.
Joe drove us along the coastal route. Sitting slightly higher in the 4x4 meant that I could make the most of the view and I spent much of the journey admiring the landscape.
‘I take it you’re a city girl,’ Joe suggested, sounding amused after I’d pointed out another picturesque view. ‘Are you not used to all these wide-open spaces?’
‘I’m a bit of both really,’ I explained, thinking of the lovely Essex countryside, ‘but, thanks to work, I haven’t had much opportunity to appreciate the great outdoors recently.’
‘Well, fill your boots,’ Joe grinned, ‘because it doesn’t get much better than this. I might not have been around here much for the last few years, but Norfolk has never been far from my thoughts.’
The day we had stumbled across each other on the clifftop, he had mentioned how he still felt ‘the pull of the place’ and looking out of the window, I could completely understand why.
‘Here we are,’ he said turning off the road and on to a sweeping drive, ‘we’re a little early, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t know about you but I’m absolutely ravenous. I skipped lunch because I knew we were coming here.’
‘That good, is it?’
‘Hell yes,’ he said seriously, ‘that good.’
‘Oh my,’ I said, smoothing down the front of my dress and feeling mightily pleased that I had worn it as a stunning brick and flint manor house came into view, ‘this place is beautiful.’
‘Wait until you see the grounds,’ Joe smiled.
He left word of our arrival at reception and then we took a leisurely stroll through the gardens and orchards, while the smartly uniformed staff finished setting up for the afternoon service.
I don’t think I said much as we walked around the pristinely kept grounds, but that was because I was too in awe of it all. Manicured lawns, burgeoning herbaceous borders and even the odd regal peacock crossed our path, but my favourite spot was the walled garden and orchard.
‘I can just imagine Mr McGregor in here,’ I smiled, remembering how Dad used to read the story to me before bed when I was little.
‘Who?’
‘Mr McGregor,’ I said again, ‘from Peter Rabbit.’
‘Oh yes,’ Joe laughed, ‘he wouldn’t stand for any little bunnies in these neat rows, would he?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I sighed. ‘This is my favourite part of the whole place, I think.’
‘What, the veg garden?’
‘Yes,’ I confirmed, ‘the veg garden.’
Joe’s smile broadened.
‘What?’
‘We used to bring Mum here on her birthday every year,’ he told me, his voice taking on a husky edge, ‘and funnily enough, this was the spot she loved most too.’
The tea was every bit as wonderful as I knew it would be. Fresh roses adorned the tables and there were at least a dozen teas to choose from. Rather than picking a sweet or savoury menu for two, Joe insisted that we had one of each so we had the opportunity to try everything on offer. The staff carried it all to the table and made a great show of placing napkins in our laps and preparing and pouring our drinks. I felt thoroughly spoiled even before I had eaten anything.
‘This is all a far cry from what I imagined when you suggested taking me out for coffee,’ I said, as I selected a tiny scotch egg and thinly sliced smoked salmon sandwich.
‘To be honest,’ said Joe, helping himself to a caviar blini and popping it into his mouth, ‘it’s not originally what I had in mind either.’
He groaned with pleasure, making us both laugh and raised his hand.
‘But I hope the change of plan suits,’ he said, as a waiter rushed over.
‘Oh yes,’ I said, ‘it certainly does.’
‘Excellent,’ he said, then turned to the waiter, ‘we’re going to need a few more of these,’ he said, reaching for another blini, ‘and two glasses of champagne, please.’
Within a short space of time, I was feeling replete, relaxed and very mellow. Joe had only drunk half of his glass of champagne because he was driving, but mine was all gone and had flowed straight to my head.
‘I think I’d better stick to the tea now, thank you,’ I said, picking up my cup when Joe offered to order me another glass, ‘as lovely as the bubbles are.’
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I can’t very well take you back to Wynmouth tipsy, can I?’
‘Not unless you want us to be the talk of the village,’ I laughed.
‘Been there, done that,’ he shuddered, and I wondered what he was thinking of from his past. From what Mike had said in the pub, Joe clearly once had a bit of a reputation. ‘Here,’ he insisted, ‘quick, soak some of the alcohol up with these little shrimp toasts. They’re delicious.’
We both laughed as he refilled my plate to stave off the gossips. I wasn’t going to be able to manage even half of what he had given me.
‘So, how’s life down on the farm treating you, Joe?’ I asked once I decided I couldn’t manage another bite. ‘Are you still enjoying mucking in?’
‘Oh, the farm’s all right,’ he said ruminatively. ‘Between you and me, it’s Charlie, my brother, who’s the problem. He’s running the place and refuses to see reason about anything I suggest.’
‘What about your parents?’
‘Both dead,’ he said directly. ‘Mum died a while ago now and we lost Dad a few months back.’
‘Oh Joe,’ I said. I should have realized about his mum, when he mentioned her before in the past tense. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He wasn’t all that much older than me and it was dreadfully sad that he had experienced such great loss already. Having so recently said goodbye to Mum, I realized that we had more in common than a teenage kiss and being recently reacquainted with Wynmouth.
‘I lost my mum not all that long ago,’ I shared with him. ‘She had a heart attack and was gone quicker than I could click my fingers. I still can’t believe it really.’
He reached across the table and held my hand. Had he remembered me, he might have been able to recall Mum too. He might have seen her sitting on the beach in her yellow sundress. The thought brought a lump to my throat.
‘That’s what happened to Dad,’ he said, sounding choked. ‘One minute he was stacking bales, and the next . . .’
‘He was gone,’ I whispered, deeply regretting that I knew exactly how that felt.
‘Anyway,’ he sighed, squeezing my hand again before letting it go, ‘Charlie’s running the place now with Bruce as his willing and extremely naughty sidekick.’
I was already rather fond of Bruce but was sure I would like him even more if Joe could rein in his exuberance a bit.
He shook his head and sighed.
‘I hope I don’t sound bitter,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to. I’m just finding it all a bit frustrating at the moment. It’s no mean feat trying to work with family.’
‘Oh, I know all about that too,’ I sighed.
This was something else we shared.
‘You do?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I work for the family firm. My dad runs it and we seem to be clashing more and more these days.’