The Secret Seaside Escape: The most heart-warming, feel-good romance of 2020, from the Sunday Times bestseller!

by Heidi Swain

  *

  Later that day, when the world had stopped spinning and I had managed to cram enough carbs to stop my legs shaking, I walked slowly up to the pub.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, slowly raising my hand in greeting when I spotted Hope and Sam together behind the bar.

  ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’ Hope grinned, taking in my ashen complexion and Jackie O shades.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said, not daring to shake my head.

  ‘Feeling rough?’

  ‘Just a smidge,’ I told her, ‘and I’ve come to apologize.’

  ‘Oh,’ Hope giggled. ‘What for exactly?’

  Sam was staring at me with the strangest expression on his face.

  ‘Yes, Tess,’ he said. ‘What for?’

  Now he was looking at me like that, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was apologizing for, but I knew I needed to say sorry for not helping with the morning-after mess.

  ‘Well,’ I began, slowly removing my sunglasses now I was safely inside the pub which was always a little on the dark side. ‘Not helping with the tidy-up, for starters. As part of the party task force, I should have been around to help out, but instead I’ve been cowering under the duvet with the world’s worst hangover.’

  Hope laughed but Sam didn’t look too impressed.

  ‘I had a feeling that’s where you were,’ she said. ‘I did knock on your door earlier, but when you didn’t answer I guessed you were still sleeping Mum’s punch off. And don’t worry,’ she kindly added, ‘there was hardly anything to tidy away. It was all sorted before the tide turned.’

  She certainly sounded more forgiving than Sam looked. He had barely uttered a word and his frown was far from sympathetic.

  ‘Please don’t mention the word punch,’ I said to Hope. ‘It’s going to be a long time before I can drink another drop of that stuff. I think I had more than three, although . . . crikey, I can barely remember a thing . . .’

  ‘So, you don’t know if you got lucky then?’ Hope teased.

  ‘Hardly,’ I said, biting my lip and thinking it was no way for a grown woman to behave. ‘But perhaps . . . oh, I don’t know, but I woke alone this morning so not that lucky.’

  The tiniest flicker of a sensuous sensation stirred, but focusing on it, while listening to Hope laugh, made my head pound and, as I was pretty certain it was my imagination playing tricks on me, rather than an actual memory from the night, I dismissed it.

  ‘I need to change a barrel,’ Sam muttered grumpily and walked off.

  ‘What’s with him?’ I asked. ‘Didn’t he enjoy himself?’

  Hope’s eyes followed his back as he disappeared down the hatch to the cellar.

  ‘I’m not sure, to be honest,’ she sighed, but didn’t elaborate on why.

  ‘He’s probably still suffering from the after-effects of the p-u-n-c-h too,’ I suggested, spelling the word out to stop my stomach rolling over again.

  Chapter 22

  The week after the party, I threw myself back into the role of holidaymaker. I did all the things I had always loved to do in Wynmouth – I visited the rockpools, swam in the still freezing sea, topped up my tan and explored the dunes. On the outside, I no doubt looked like someone making the most of her time in the fleeting British sun, but I was very much on the inside and I knew that wasn’t the case at all.

  As enjoyable as it all might have looked to anyone else, my days spent on the beach were really my way of coping with the internal turmoil that descended whenever I set my mind to sorting out what I had run to the village to work my way through.

  Rather than helping me come to terms with the shell that I had discovered my parents’ marriage really was, reading Mum’s diary had created more questions than answers and, even though I had decided I wouldn’t be going back to work with Dad, I still hadn’t done anything to match my actions to the decision.

  I was even beginning to wonder if my involvement in village events and my desire to keep an eye on Hope and stop her making relations between Sam and Joe worse rather than better, were a way of putting off the inevitable.

  Was the role I was playing in Wynmouth really essential to the fabric of local life, or was I simply using it as yet another excuse for not moving on with my own issues? I had made a few inroads into getting on with things but, considering the amount of time I’d now been away, I hadn’t travelled anywhere near far enough and I knew I was running out of diversionary events on the Wynmouth calendar to throw myself into.

  I absolutely couldn’t carry on in the same vein, hiding out and treating my weeks away as just a jolly when they had always been destined to be so much more, but maybe just one more afternoon soaking up the sun on the beach wouldn’t hurt . . .

  ‘He said yes!’ I heard Hope shout from further along the beach as I generously applied another layer of sun cream to my freckle-speckled shoulders and arms.

  ‘Who said yes to what?’ I responded, laughing as she tripped in her haste to reach me.

  ‘Sam said yes to you staying on,’ she puffed, flopping down on the sand next to me and covering my already sticky arms in a gritty layer. ‘Turn over,’ she offered, grabbing the factor 30, ‘and I’ll do your back.’

  Her explanation, along with her efforts to convince Sam to let me stay in the cottage even longer, did nothing to encourage my conviction to get on with things, but I was grateful that I could stay on. I had become so used to the confined space, quirky stairs and gate that stuck, that I almost considered my residency a permanent one now. If Sam had said no, then this would have been my last week in Wynmouth. Perish the thought.

  ‘And how exactly did you manage to get him to agree to that?’ I asked, rolling over as requested. ‘He’s been in a right grump all week.’

  His continued post-party bad mood had been the reason she hadn’t rushed into making the request and I felt my face redden in case she was about to reveal that some kinky or athletic bedroom behaviour had been the key to putting him in more malleable frame of mind.

  ‘I asked and he said yes,’ she said, squirting a liberal amount of the chilly cream on to my back.

  I can’t deny I was relieved.

  ‘As simple as that?’ I asked.

  ‘As simple as that,’ she confirmed. ‘I reckon he’s got a soft spot for you, Tess.’

  I was pretty certain the soft spot was all the other way, but obviously I wasn’t going to correct her. If only I could remember what had happened in the run-up to and during the solstice party, then I could say with complete certainty that she was wrong, but there were great chunks of it that were still hazy and some parts were completely non-existent.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ I told her, knowing I couldn’t magic back my memories even though I wanted to, ‘but I do know that I wouldn’t mind another lend of your Mum’s laptop.’

  ‘I thought you were eschewing all tech,’ she reminded me. ‘Mum said you were in the café yesterday using the phone as well. Are you beginning to crack, Tess?’

  ‘No,’ I told her, ‘of course not. I needed to use the phone to confirm my visit to Home Farm, that’s all.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten you were doing that. I wonder if Joe will make any startling revelations while you’re there?’

  ‘Who knows?’ I said, wondering if I’d done the right thing in agreeing to get involved in the whole Sam and Joe scenario. ‘But,’ I carried on, ‘I did give Joe my email address in case he needed to alter the arrangements, so I need to log in to check it’s all still on.’

  Hope looked slightly sceptical that he would change plans once they were confirmed.

  ‘You know he has a tendency to come and go,’ I reminded her, ‘and I’d rather check my email account than risk getting sucked into messaging him via social media because that really could be a slippery slope.’

  I didn’t of course add that, if Sophie didn’t mind me logging back on, then I was about to write something that had the potential to change the course of my life forever.


  *

  ‘Why don’t you go and sit at one of the tables,’ Sophie said kindly, as she handed her laptop over, ‘you’ll be more comfortable than at the counter. I’ll bring you over a drink in a minute.’

  ‘Thanks, Sophie,’ I smiled.

  My legs were a little shaky as I slid into the last free booth, and my mind was already working through the many and varied sentences I could call on to compose the life-altering email.

  ‘Here you go,’ said Sophie, just as I was about to start, ‘this’ll cool you down.’ It was a lovely tall glass of iced tea. ‘You look a bit flushed. I hope you’re using sunblock when you’re soaking up the sun, my love.’

  I was feeling hot, but it had nothing to do with the weather.

  ‘I am,’ I told her.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

  In the end, I stuck to efficient and formal. Tendering my resignation from Tyler PR had to be dealt with professionally. Emotion-laden accusations and explanations addressing the contents of Mum’s diary could come later. Business first had always been Dad’s mantra and, on this occasion, I was willing to stick to it. Once I’d got this out of the way we could revert to being father and daughter again. Perhaps that’s what we would have been better off as all along.

  ‘Therefore,’ I muttered under my breath, as I read through the mail again before hitting send and setting the wheels in motion, ‘I am resigning from my position in Tyler PR with immediate effect and in the hope that, if you haven’t already, you will promote Chris, enabling him to officially take over my role within the company.’

  I hadn’t gone into the whys and wherefores, the details of how I had become increasingly disillusioned with my role and unwilling to babysit and spoon-feed adults who were old enough to know how to behave and conduct themselves. I was certain my resignation would be a big enough shock for Dad to deal with and, even though I was still appalled by how he had treated Mum and their marriage, I felt there was nothing to be gained from rubbing salt into the wound by revealing my distaste for the firm he had spent the best part of his working life growing.

  To close the mail, I veered a little on the side of personal, stating that I was in perfect health and happy, although I omitted to mention where I actually was. I knew I was pushing my luck in ‘resigning with immediate effect’ but as it was my Dad who owned the firm, I hoped he wouldn’t use the weight of the law to make me honour a period of notice. That perhaps wasn’t particularly professional of me, but there had to be one perk I could use in my favour after all my years of dedicated service.

  ‘All done?’ Sophie asked, as I returned the laptop to her yet again.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, swallowing hard, ‘all done.’

  *

  I had thought that having finally acted on my decision I would be feeling footloose and fancy-free, but as I later prepared for my visit to Joe’s family farm, I discovered that wasn’t the case at all. I couldn’t pin down the reason why, but the lump I had felt forming in my throat in the café was very firmly fixed and if I turned around, or stood up too quickly, there was a definite feeling of dizziness waiting in the wings to catch me out.

  I knew my physical reactions weren’t the result of worrying about the financial implications of what I had done because I had already made some rough calculations of my assets and knew I would be okay. If I sold my beloved car and the impersonal apartment, in which I had a sizeable chunk of equity, I would be able to afford a move, possibly even to the Norfolk coast, and still have a little money left over.

  There wouldn’t be much, and it would be one heck of a lifestyle downsize, but I would be all right. For someone my age, I was in an enviable position, so my body’s responses to the more practical parts of the situation were in no way justified and I decided the best thing I could do was ignore them.

  ‘All set?’ Joe asked, when he turned up to collect me.

  ‘Just about,’ I said, checking I’d locked the back door.

  He had insisted that he would taxi me to and from the farm, for the sake of my beautiful car’s suspension and, given that I wanted to get every penny that I could for it in resale value, I was grateful about that.

  ‘You’re looking good, Tess,’ he smiled, ‘very freckly.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I smiled back. ‘I’ve spent most of the week chilling on the beach. It’s been a total indulgence and I’m feeling pretty relaxed right now.’

  As I had decided to ignore the moments of light-headedness, I didn’t mention them.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Joe winced.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, that’s all about to change, I’m afraid,’ he warned me. ‘Say goodbye to blissed out, Tess.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’ve had to bring Bruce,’ he said apologetically. ‘So, you’d better brace yourself for impact, and an assault on your eardrums, because I’ve got a feeling that he’s going to bark like mad when he spots you.’

  And he did. It had been a while since I had seen the loopy mutt and I was pleased that he was secure in the back of the Land Rover and that we were separated by a metal grille and the back seats.

  ‘Hopefully he’ll have settled down by the time we get to the farm,’ I said to Joe, shouting above the din. ‘Perhaps he won’t be bothered by the time we get out.’

  ‘Yeah right,’ Joe laughed. ‘Do you want to bet on that?’

  Fortunately for my bank balance I didn’t, because even though Charlie was in the yard to meet us and clipped a lead on Bruce before letting him out, the dog still launched into a frenzy of tail thumping, whining and jumping up when he saw me close to.

  ‘The training’s going well then,’ I laughed.

  ‘You must be joking,’ said Joe. ‘I reckon he’s beyond help.’

  ‘He just needs taking in hand,’ I said, eventually managing to pat Bruce’s head as he finally quietened and sat panting at my feet.

  ‘That’s a job you fancy, is it, Tess?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘No chance,’ I told him. ‘It’s good to see you again, Charlie.’

  ‘And you,’ he nodded, then turned to his brother. ‘It’s going to get hot before it breaks, Joe,’ he added, ‘so I’ll keep Bruce with me if you want to show Tess around sooner rather than later.’

  I was grateful that I wasn’t going to have to share a tractor cab with the dopey dog and hoped it was air-conditioned because Charlie was right, it was getting hot.

  ‘Good idea,’ agreed Joe, ‘but don’t worry about this storm. I’ve had a look at the radar and I don’t reckon it’s going to clip us after all.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ said Charlie, leading Bruce away, ‘we’ll see about that, won’t we?’

  Joe nudged me and we wandered over to the tractor.

  ‘Climb in,’ he said, opening the door. ‘It’s going to be a bit bumpy, but you’ll be able to see more in here than if we take the Land Rover.’

  He wasn’t wrong. From the elevated cab, which was thankfully blissfully cool, I was able to see the whole of the farm and the fields, as well as some of the coast, in all its glory.

  ‘This is amazing,’ I said to Joe as he took us right to the very edge of one field which had the most stunning sea views. ‘You can see for miles.’

  Joe nodded in agreement.

  ‘This is my favourite spot on the whole farm,’ he said, ‘and it was Dad’s too.’

  ‘I can see why,’ I smiled, then I remembered the reason why he had returned to Wynmouth. ‘I’m really sorry the farm is in so much trouble, Joe.’

  ‘Me too,’ he sighed sadly, before stopping the tractor again and climbing out.

  We ate a simple picnic lunch of sandwiches, fruit and lemonade and then walked around the field margins which were awash with wildflowers and separated from the land on either side by dense, high hedgerows.

  ‘Can you hear that?’ said Joe, cocking his head. ‘It’s too hot now for the birds to be singing, but the insects are out in full force.’

  I listened to the thru
m of intense buzzing, the lazy drone of a plump bumblebee and watched the progress of a pair of butterflies as they fluttered elegantly by.

  ‘Amazing,’ I said again, hoping there weren’t too many of the stinging varieties close by. ‘It sounds like a very busy spot.’

  ‘There are places like this all over the farm,’ Joe said proudly. ‘Dad was very keen on keeping the hedges when everyone else was ripping them out. He always had a respect for the land, and I’ll be the first to admit that that did sometimes mean compromising yields and profits, but he knew it was going to be worth it for the sake of diversity. We’ve even got a large pond taking up the middle of one of the fields further inland. Charlie was all for draining it and filling it in, but Dad dug his heels in about that too.’

  I wondered if Charlie would forge ahead regardless now. Probably not if Joe had anything to do with it. He was clearly passionate about all that his father had achieved and even though I was no expert in farm management I could appreciate that it couldn’t have been an easy decision to sacrifice money in the bank for the benefit of flora and fauna.

  ‘Your dad sounds like a great man.’

  ‘He really was,’ said Joe, sounding a little choked, ‘and Mum was a wonderful woman.’

  He had obviously been close to his parents and loved them very much. That, combined with his love of the landscape and former admittance that he still ‘felt the pull of the place’, made me wonder why he had never pushed to be more involved with it all.

  He had told me that it fell to Charlie as eldest to take over and that he had wanted to get away after the crash, but surely if he’d stuck around, he would have eventually come to terms with driving by the crash site?

  But then, that was easy for me to say, wasn’t it? Because I hadn’t been subjected to the horrors that he had seen that night or lost the love of my life to the person who had been the cause of it.

  ‘Joe . . .’

  ‘Sorry, Tess,’ he said, cutting me off, ‘but I think we should get back. I don’t much like the look of that horizon.’