by Heidi Swain
‘Please,’ I said, ‘before you tell Sam, or anyone else, let me talk to Joe.’
*
Hope headed back to the café, having reluctantly agreed not to say anything to Sam, and I went back to the cottage. I knew that time was of the essence and wanted to get to Home Farm and talk to the Upton brothers before she had a change of heart. Hope was the sort of woman who wore her heart on her sleeve and I knew it wouldn’t take much prompting if someone picked up on her preoccupied mood for her to tell all.
It hadn’t entered my head before but having always worked the farm I now considered that Charlie might not be in favour of selling it and, if Joe’s deal hadn’t progressed too far, then we might be able to persuade him to change his mind. Surely, while Charlie was the manager, Joe couldn’t just sell it all out from under him?
Unfortunately, my plan fell at the first hurdle, as I discovered a note from Joe on the cottage doormat, explaining that he was leaving again. Only temporarily, but most likely long enough to unsettle Hope and have her telling everyone what he had in the pipeline. I supposed I could drive out and talk to Charlie on his own, but it wasn’t an ideal compromise.
I sat on the sofa, with my head in my hands, wishing I’d stuck to sorting out my own dramas rather than getting drawn into everyone else’s and wondering what on earth I was going to do. Why hadn’t I stuck to being a holidaymaker, someone keen to unwind and de-stress, rather than turning into someone intent on becoming embroiled in the minutiae of local Wynmouth life?
Just as I was set to sink even deeper into the murky depths of the ‘one is fun’ pity party of my own making, a heavy knock at the door pulled me back into the cottage.
‘This was delivered to the pub earlier,’ said Sam gruffly, handing over a package and walking in. ‘You weren’t in and it had to be signed for.’
‘Come in, why don’t you?’ I frowned, wondering what on earth it could be. Certainly not the phone I had ordered because that would have been super-fast, even for express delivery. ‘Thanks.’
‘But never mind that,’ he said, pulling it out of my hands and dumping it on the sofa.
‘Hey,’ I objected.
‘You can look at it later,’ he said dismissively, ‘right now I’m more concerned about what you saw and heard at Home Farm.’
‘What?’
Surely Hope couldn’t have cracked already.
‘I’ve had Hope in tears at the pub.’
Or perhaps she had.
‘I thought the two of you weren’t talking,’ I tersely reminded him.
‘We weren’t,’ he said. ‘We are now.’
As loath as I was to offload, I couldn’t help thinking that if I didn’t fill Sam in then he was likely to go out to Home Farm and tackle Charlie himself and that was the last thing I wanted.
‘Thanks for that,’ he said, once I had finished explaining what I had discovered.
His expression was unfathomable, but I had the feeling that Joe’s Sunny Shores project wasn’t going to be under wraps for much longer.
‘I’ll see myself out,’ said Sam.
I didn’t dare ask what he intended to do with the information I had supplied him with and, as the door shut behind him, I turned my attention back to the package. I could hardly believe my eyes and took a moment to let my galloping heart settle before looking at it again. My eyes weren’t deceiving me, the label was definitely written in my father’s hand.
*
My initial reaction to the missive had been to throw it in the wood burner – had it been lit – but then I was seized with a desire to open it and find out my fate. Was it a heartfelt plea for my return to the fold, or a court summons demanding I appeared and explained the reasons behind my desertion from the family firm?
Befuddled and dazed, I didn’t know what to do with it so, unopened, I set it aside. I had no idea how my father had tracked me down, but I knew I couldn’t stay in Wynmouth now. I felt truly sorry to be leaving so many loose ends in my wake, but the shocking sight of Dad’s handwriting was enough to tell me that I still wasn’t ready to face up to everything and therefore I had to go. If he’d put a package in the post, he could just as easily turn up on the doorstep and that was the last thing I wanted.
‘Could I have a quiet word, in private please?’ I asked Sam in the pub later that evening.
‘Come through,’ he said, lifting the bar hatch so I could follow him into the back.
‘Thanks,’ I swallowed.
‘You haven’t gone blabbing to Upton, have you?’
For someone who had the ability to make my temperature soar his tone left me cold.
‘Of course, I haven’t,’ I tutted.
If only I’d kept my mouth shut, we wouldn’t be destined to part on such unsatisfactory terms. It broke my heart to think that I would be leaving Wynmouth feeling that I would never be welcome to come back.
‘What is it then?’
‘I’ve just come to say that I’m going to be leaving tomorrow.’
‘Oh,’ he faltered, looking completely taken aback.
‘I’m going in the morning, but of course I’ll pay for the extra time you said I could stay.’
‘There’s no need for that,’ he frowned.
‘It’s the least I can do,’ I swallowed. ‘What shall I do with the key?’
He looked at me and chewed his lip and I made a point of looking anywhere but into his spellbinding green eyes. I wasn’t sure how I had been expecting him to react to my announcement, but the fact that he wasn’t reacting at all was horrible. He could have at least asked what had prompted my decision or whether I might change my mind. Not that I would have known what to say in response.
‘You can leave it where you found it.’
‘Under the pot on the doorstep,’ I said for confirmation and he nodded. ‘Okay,’ I said, walking back into the bar. ‘That’s where I’ll leave it.’
‘You know, Tess,’ he suddenly said, closing the hatch between us again, ‘you really aren’t the person I thought you were when you first arrived.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah,’ he carried on, not caring to lower his voice. ‘For a while, I had you down as someone who had fallen in love with Wynmouth. I thought you got the place and really wanted to see it thrive, but now I know it was all a sham. I daresay you actually wanted everything you suggested to fail, didn’t you?’
‘What?’
‘We all thought you were the sort of person who could make a difference,’ he said bitterly, ‘and you did have us fooled for a while, but you’re not the girl I thought you were, Tess Tyler.’
I had no idea what he was talking about and it was on the tip of my tongue for me to blurt out that he hadn’t been the boy I’d thought he was either, but I’d learnt my lesson when it came to making rash announcements in packed bars so instead I turned away and walked out.
Chapter 25
I didn’t pack properly before I went to bed, thinking that a good night’s sleep would be of more benefit than time spent sorting and tidying. And besides, that would be a welcome distraction to busy myself with when I got up and was waiting for the courier to deliver the phone I no longer needed. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep, but lay awake scrutinizing Sam’s words and wishing that I’d never set foot in Wynmouth again.
I wasn’t in the best of tempers by the time I realized sleep was never going to come and my mood slumped even further as I trundled down the stairs only to be disturbed by a far earlier than expected knock on the door.
‘This isn’t the slot I booked,’ I snapped. ‘What’s the point in me paying for timed delivery when you don’t stick to the schedule?’
I wrenched the door open, my best scowl in place as I made ready to take my annoyance out on the driver, but it wasn’t the courier.
It was my father.
The words died in my throat as I stopped dead on the threshold, staring at him, but not really believing what or who I was seeing. This had to be some trick, some joke my brain was
playing, the result of not having slept and all the recent emotional turmoil.
‘I told myself I wouldn’t come,’ he said huskily as his eyes met mine, ‘but when you didn’t respond to my letter, I just couldn’t stay away any longer.’
Now, not only did the vision look like my father, it sounded like him too, so I had no choice but to accept that it was him, standing on the doorstep of Crow’s Nest Cottage at some ungodly hour of the morning on the day I had finally decided to leave.
He looked careworn and almost as tired as I did, and just for a second, before the memory of Mum’s diary tapped me on the shoulder and I checked myself, I very nearly gave in to instinct, threw my arms around him and told him that I loved him.
‘I haven’t read your letter,’ I replied, my voice every bit as husky as his. ‘The package only arrived yesterday and I haven’t opened it,’ I added, a little louder. ‘I didn’t even know there was a letter inside.’
‘I did wonder if I should give you more time,’ he said, a frown pulling his brows together, ‘but I was scared that you would move on once you knew that I knew where you were and I couldn’t risk that. I couldn’t risk losing you again, Tess.’
I didn’t know what to say. Dad hadn’t been an emotionally demonstrative father for a very long time and confessing that he was scared, of anything, was something I didn’t think I had ever heard him admit before.
‘I suppose you’d better come in,’ I said, opening the door wider.
I was mindful that George would soon be walking Skipper and didn’t want to add more fuel to my holiday story which was weaving its way among the great, good and downright grumpy of Wynmouth.
‘Although you won’t be able to leave your car parked there.’
If Charlie came bowling along on the beach tractor, he wouldn’t be able to get through the gap and that would cause even more talk than if George spotted me in conversation with an unknown man on the cottage doorstep.
‘It’s all right,’ Dad said, still standing in the same spot. ‘I don’t want to come in. I was rather hoping that you would come with me.’
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. I knew it was a work day, and a miracle that he was so far from his desk, but if he had plans to get me to the office and clocked in for nine, then he was in for a rude awakening.
‘I’ll only keep you for a few minutes,’ he said, ‘and I promise I’ll bring you back.’
No plan to charge back to Essex just yet then.
‘All right,’ I agreed, thinking that now he was here, I really had no choice, ‘wait there.’
I padded back upstairs, pulled on some clothes and tamed my hair into a ponytail.
‘You’re looking really well,’ Dad smiled when, just a couple of minutes later, I locked the cottage door and climbed into the car. ‘That tan looks more West Indies than Wynmouth and it’s been years since I’ve seen you with so many freckles.’
That was most likely because it was years since he’d seen me without make-up.
‘And I’d forgotten how much your hair curls,’ he carried on. ‘It looks just like your mother’s used to before she started to straighten it.’
I wasn’t much in the mood to listen to him harking back to the good old days, especially when his reminiscing included Mum.
‘So, where are we going?’ I asked, shrugging off his seemingly light-hearted chat.
His small talk was rather unnerving. As a rule, Dad’s feet were firmly planted in the ‘if you haven’t got anything constructive to say, then don’t say anything,’ camp, but that morning for some reason he’d switched sides and the only reason for defecting that I could come up with, was because he was working his way up to saying something he wasn’t sure about. The chattiness was completely out of character and I didn’t like it, not one little bit.
‘There’s a café right on the beach I rather like the look of,’ he said, turning up the lane which led back to The Green. ‘I daresay you know it already.’
I did of course, but I didn’t ask how he did. The route into the village would hardly have taken him along the seafront and past Sophie’s door.
‘It won’t be open yet,’ I said instead, checking the time. ‘It won’t be open for at least another hour.’
But, unexpectedly, it was.
‘Good morning,’ said Sophie, when we entered.
Dad had ignored the ‘closed’ sign and walked straight in, holding the door open for me to follow him.
‘Morning,’ he said back.
‘What can I get you both?’ Sophie asked.
She didn’t appear to be quite her usual sunny self, but then it was still early. Not that I really thought the time would influence Sophie’s mood. She always had a ready smile and was full of cheer.
‘Just a coffee for me, please,’ said Dad.
‘And I’ll have the same,’ I said, ‘thanks.’
Dad and I sat opposite one another, in the booth I always tried to nab because it had the best view of the sea. Now Dad was quiet and neither of us said anything as we stared out at the view while Sophie prepared our drinks. The sun shone, the sea sparkled and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. To all intents and purposes, it looked like the beginning of the perfect day, but I had the feeling that it was going to turn out to be anything but.
‘I have things to do in the kitchen,’ said Sophie, as she carried over our drinks, spilling a little of mine as she served it, ‘but call me if you need anything.’
‘I can’t be long,’ I told Dad as he slowly stirred milk into his cup. ‘I’m expecting a parcel and I have to be there to sign for it.’
‘Of course,’ he nodded, carefully putting down the spoon. ‘I don’t want to interfere in your plans.’
‘Then why are you here?’ I asked.
Surely, he must have realized that his unexpected arrival was going to interfere with my schedule, because he wasn’t a part of it. Had he been just a couple of hours later, I would have ticked the first thing off the plan for the day and been miles away.
‘The week you left,’ he finally began, ‘all I wanted was to track you down and make you come back.’
‘But Joan said I deserved a break,’ I cut in, trying to hurry him along. ‘You told me that when I called. You told me that she had said I was entitled to some time off.’
Dad nodded.
‘That’s correct,’ he agreed, ‘and having looked over your work records, I couldn’t deny that she was right.’
‘Crikey,’ I blurted out, sounding more sarcastic than I meant to.
‘In fact, Joan has told me quite a few home truths recently,’ Dad added, with a wry smile.
‘And you’ve listened?’ I asked, wondering how on earth she’d managed to pull that off.
Usually Dad would have given the impression that he was listening, he was the master of it, but then he would have carried on with whatever it was that he’d set his heart on anyway.
‘Believe it or not,’ he said, clearly in tune with the wave-length my thoughts were travelling along, ‘I have. As it turns out, she’s a very wise woman, my housekeeper. She makes a lot of sense.’
‘I could have told you that years ago,’ I said bluntly, ‘not that you would have listened. However,’ I charitably added, ‘I’m pleased that you’ve finally sussed it out for yourself.’
‘It’s quite something, coming from your old dad, who thinks he always knows best, isn’t it?’ Dad smiled.
I looked up at him, equally as surprised to see the amusement in his eyes as I was to hear him admit that he was even remotely aware of what he was like to live – and work – with.
‘It’s nothing short of a miracle,’ I told him. ‘However, it doesn’t alter the fact that you’re here now, does it? You clearly didn’t heed her words about leaving me alone for long.’
‘On the contrary,’ he swallowed. ‘She’s part of the reason that I’m here.’
‘Oh?’
‘When you called to say that you were staying away for even longer,�
� he explained, ‘Joan told me she was surprised you’d done that and we both began to worry that you would never come back.’
‘I see.’
I don’t suppose I’d really thought about how my decision would impact on anyone else. I had simply done what felt right for me at the time.
‘I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my girl for good,’ Dad then said, his voice suddenly choked with emotion and, when I looked at him, I could see it in his eyes too, ‘and as there was no further word from you, I went . . .’ He stopped and bit his lip.
‘You went where?’ I asked, urging him on.
‘I went to your apartment,’ he said, letting out a long breath, ‘to see if I could find some clue that might help me track you down and,’ he added, shaking his head, ‘I found the trunk. Your mother’s trunk.’
He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the table. It was a page from Mum’s diary. A sheet I must have somehow missed in my haste to get away.
‘So, you know then,’ I said, looking from the paper and back to him. ‘You know what it was that finally tipped me over the edge and made me run away.’
No longer the self-assured boss who never let his confident façade falter, he looked far more human now and vulnerable. As he appeared to be finally facing up to what he had done, admitting that he had been an unfaithful and disloyal husband, I supposed that was only to be expected.
He nodded.
‘You know why I couldn’t bear the sight of you a moment longer . . .’ I choked, the bitter words catching in my throat as my eyes filled with tears.
The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of him, but now we were here, with the awful evidence on the table between us, I couldn’t stop the sudden influx of emotions.
‘Me?’ Dad asked, the shocked tone of his voice making me look up again.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you. You were the one who used to moan about the sort of woman Mum had turned into. You were the one who resented the amount of money she spent on clothes and the fact that she was so obsessed with always looking her best, but,’ I added, jabbing a finger at the printed page, ‘did you ever stop to think about why she did all that?’