We settled down behind a sand dune and set up our equipment. It was a cold day for October, breath a silver mist from our mouths.
‘How was Lumin this morning then?’ he asked as I started filming.
‘She seemed fine. Happy. Not that nervous.’
‘I bet you were though?’
I smiled. ‘Yep. I’ve been on edge for the past week.’
He laughed. ‘I remember feeling the same when Riley first went to school. Tina and I were nervous wrecks. She had a good cry when she got home and I had to pretend I got the wind in my eyes. Have my macho image to uphold, after all.’
I smiled. They were good together, Tina and Steve. I thought again of how it would have been if I’d walked Lumin into school with Dylan, her father. My stomach turned. I’d been regretting it more and more lately, not telling him about her … and her about him.
A man appeared on the beach, walking across our shot. He was holding a camcorder and stood right in front of me, filming the ducks.
‘Bloody twitchers,’ Steven hissed, so loud the man clearly heard.
He turned to look at us. ‘It’s a free country,’ he shouted, staying resolutely where he was. I hitched the camera up, trying to get a shot without him in it as Steve stormed over to him.
‘This is our work,’ I heard him say. ‘Not some holiday video. That’s an award-winning documentary-maker whose filming you just ruined, you know,’ he added, pointing at me. ‘There’s plenty of beach,’ he said, gesturing around him at the vast expanse of icy sand. ‘Go find a patch where you’re not getting in our shot.’
‘An award-winning documentary-maker?’ the man said, peering over at me.
Steve puffed his chest out. ‘She worked with the legend that is Reginald Carlisle. She was his prodigy. Did lots of stuff with him for the BBC.’
The man’s eyes lit up. ‘He is a legend! In fact, he’s my hero. Can I interview you for my blog?’ he called over to me.
‘Erm, I don’t know …’
‘Sure!’ Steve said, bringing the man over. ‘Be sure to mention my company though, Peterson Productions,’ he said, digging a card out and handing it to the man.
‘I’d rather not do an interview,’ I said. Steve looked disappointed.
‘What about a photo?’ the man asked
Steve pleaded with me with his eyes. ‘Just a photo,’ I relented.
The man smiled, pulled a camera from his bag. ‘So will we be able to see this documentary on TV?’
‘This isn’t for a documentary,’ I said. ‘We’re taking stock footage for Steve’s business.’
‘But I thought you said she was a documentary-maker?’ the man asked Steve.
‘I used to film documentaries, before I had my daughter and moved here,’ I explained.
‘Ah, I see. So, if you can just hold your camera like you were a few moments ago and film the ducks, that would be great.’
I reluctantly did as he asked, giving him my name, which he scribbled into his notepad. Then he gave an excited thanks before jogging off down the beach.
‘You didn’t look like you enjoyed that,’ Steve said as we packed up later.
‘I don’t like the idea of being splashed all over the World Wide Web.’
‘Don’t worry, not that many people even look at those weblogs. I bet this interwebs thing will die a death in a few years, another one of those silly fads.’
‘Good,’ I said, carefully placing my camera in its bag.
A week later, the heavens opened, each day as dark as the next, with rain so heavy that we got soaked going to and from school. ‘You need to get a proper brolly, Mummy,’ Lumin complained as I tried to cover her with the only umbrella I had. ‘My socks are getting wet,’ she moaned.
‘I know, sweetheart, I’ll get one this weekend.’
A gust of wind lifted the umbrella from my hands, turning it inside out. We watched as it tumbled down the road.
‘Bugger.’ I quickly pulled Lumin’s hood over her hair and grabbed her wet hand. ‘Quicker we get in, the dryer we’ll be.’ ‘But the rain’s going down the back of my coat, Mummy!’
I stopped, examining her coat. The hood was attached with buttons and the rain was seeping in between the gaps. She was absolutely soaking. I looked at my watch. We had just two minutes to get to school. I could go home, get a dry blouse for her and a new umbrella, but then we’d be late, not great considering we were just a week into the school year.
‘Here, let me help,’ a voice said through the rain. A huge umbrella suddenly appeared over us.
I turned, grateful, then froze.
Chapter Nineteen
Mairi was standing in front of me, her dark eyes on Lumin. She crouched down in front of her, examining her face. ‘Aren’t you a pretty thing?’ she said in her distinctive Scots accent.
Lumin looked up at me with questioning eyes.
‘W-w-w-hat are you doing here?’ I asked in a stuttering voice.
‘You best get her to school,’ Mairi said, eyes in mine. ‘Take the brolly. I’ll wait for you and I can explain then.’
I opened my mouth then closed it, not knowing what to think, what to say.
‘Go,’ she said again. ‘You’ll be late, the school won’t take kindly to it.’
I blinked then nodded, took Lumin’s hand and ran into the school with her, turning to look over my shoulder at Mairi.
‘Jesus Christ,’ I whispered, eyes filling with tears as the full weight of the situation dawned on me.
‘Are you okay, Mummy?’ Lumin asked.
‘Of course,’ I said, pulling myself together. ‘Just shocked at how wet we both are. Here, give me a cuddle,’ I said, wanting to draw
comfort and strength from her. She gave me a big cuddle, then ran off towards her class. I watched her for a few moments, delaying the inevitable. Then I took a deep breath and walked back outside.
Mairi was standing in the rain, her long brown hair getting soaked now she didn’t have her umbrella. But she didn’t seem to care. Instead, she had a look of determination on her face.
She knew Lumin was Dylan’s. I could just tell.
‘Shall we get tea?’ I asked, giving her just as determined a look as I handed her umbrella back to her. I needed to take control of the situation.
She nodded. ‘Good idea.’
We walked in silence beneath the vast umbrella to the small café I sometimes went to with Tina. As we walked, I tried to gather my thoughts. I could lie to her, tell her there was another man not long after Dylan. But I knew she wouldn’t believe me. She’d seen what I saw every day in Lumin: those cheekbones, those lips, those long lean limbs.
The cafe was deserted when we got in. Mairi shook out her umbrella then leant it against the wall. She was wearing a long woollen coat the colour of coal. It looked expensive but I noticed there was a hole in the seam under her arm and her boots were scuffed.
‘What do you want to drink?’ I asked as I searched in my purse for some coins.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll get this,’ Mairi said, putting her hand on my arm and holding it. I realised I was shaking. ‘I think you better sit down before your legs give up on you.’
I nodded, took a seat by the window and stared out into the rain. In its reflection, I saw Mairi walk to the counter, the end of her plait dripping water onto the floor as she did so.
‘Tea? Coffee?’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Coffee.’ I put my head in my hands, the awfulness of what I’d done to Dylan and his family dawning on me. She must hate me.
She returned with two mugs and two almond croissants.
‘You look like you need some sugar in you,’ she said, looking me over. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘So it seems.’ She took a sip of her coffee then leant back in her chair, staring at me.
‘How did you find me?’ I asked.
‘Your photo was on one of Heather’s favourite documentary-making weblogs.’
I closed my eyes, pinching my nose.
‘A very nice photo too,’ she added. ‘Heather was very excited when she saw it … especially when she read you lived in Druridge Bay with your daughter.’
I shook my head. I should have been more careful.
‘I made some calls, spoke to a lovely man called Steve, explaining I was an old friend,’ Mairi continued. ‘He was kind enough to let me know your daughter had just started school. As soon as I realised her age, I knew she had to be Dylan’s.’
I hadn’t seen Steve all weekend. He was probably planning to tell me about the call when I got in later.
‘Does Dylan know?’ I asked, mouth going dry.
Mairi shook her head. ‘I had to find out for myself first. See for myself. He’s been … fragile.’ Her eyes glazed over with worry as she looked out into the rain. ‘I couldn’t just throw this news at him without being absolutely sure.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Good. You’re not going to try to deny your girl is Dylan’s.’
I shook my head. ‘I found out after Dylan left.’
‘And you chose not to tell him you were pregnant with his child.’ ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. He—’
‘Dumped you?’
I clenched my jaw and nodded. ‘Yes. Combined with the fact that he said he didn’t want children, I thought it best I just get on with things without him. I couldn’t risk the rejection,’ I added in a whisper.
‘Rejection? You’re not as clever as I thought,’ Mairi said with a shake of the head. ‘He was clearly in love with you. Probably still is.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He left. Actually, leave is the wrong word. There was nothing to leave, according to him. Just a casual fling.’ As I said it, I heard the bitterness in my voice. After all these years, it still smarted: the humiliation, the heartbreak.
Mairi laughed. ‘I have no idea why he let you slip through his fingers. But I’ll tell you now, my son was in love with you. He returned from Iceland a changed man.’
I shook my head. ‘You’re got it all wrong.’ I didn’t want her to be right. If she was, what did that mean for the secret I’d kept from Dylan all these years? From Lumin?
‘I know my own son, Gwyneth,’ Mairi said, voice hard. ‘I know when he’s suffering from a broken heart.’
‘But I don’t understand! He told me he didn’t want a relationship.’
‘He would have had his reasons,’ she said, nodding to herself. ‘Good reasons, if I know him. But falling out of love with you wouldn’t be one of them. Now, on to my granddaughter. Shall we start with her name?’
I swallowed, throat dry. ‘Lumin.’
‘Oh,’ Mairi said. She put her hand to her chest, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Beautiful name. Beautiful girl too.’
‘She is.’ I felt tears start to well up. ‘I’m so sorry, Mairi.’
‘We mothers must do what we feel is best and you clearly felt it was the best thing at the time.’ She clutched my hand. ‘The past doesn’t matter. It’s what we do next that matters.’
‘Dylan will hate me.’
She shook her head. ‘He will hate himself more for walking out on you. Knowing my son, he will blame himself before he blames you.’ She thought about things for a moment. ‘We’re going to have to approach this carefully,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘It’s probably best he doesn’t know I found out first, nor that I came here. When you tell him, you mustn’t mention me. He needs to be the one to tell me he has a daughter. It’ll be important to him.’
I took in a breath. So I was going to tell him, was I? I suppose I had no choice. If I didn’t, his mother would have to. How would I explain myself? My reasons had seemed so plausible all those years ago, to save my daughter from the feeling of rejection I’d felt for so long. But the years had worn away at that excuse and now I saw it for what it was: a coward’s way out.
‘I’m not going to lie,’ I said. ‘And neither should you. I’ll tell him you saw my photo and came here to be sure.’ She opened her mouth to protest but I leant forward, staring into her eyes. ‘No more lies.’
She took in a deep breath then nodded.
‘Fine,’ I said, ‘I’ll call him tonight if you give me his number.’
‘You can’t do it over the phone!’ she protested.
‘And I can’t drag him down here either. I can’t risk him bumping into Lumin before I have a chance to explain it all to him. I owe them both that.’
‘Jesus Christ, Gwyneth, this is not news to deliver over the phone. Come to Scotland with the girl. We will make sure it’s done properly.’
‘The McClusky way?’ I asked. ‘No thanks. I want to do this my way. I know my daughter … and I know Dylan too, despite the little time we spent together. However the news is delivered, it’s going to be difficult. Phone, face to face, letter. But the sooner it’s done, the better. I’ve already left it too long.’ We held each other’s gaze. ‘Do you have his number?’
She wrote down his number and handed it over. ‘He won’t be impressed by me coming here. I just wanted to protect him from any potential hurt.’
I realised then Mairi had just done what I’d been doing all these years: protecting her child from hurt and rejection. But I had been wrong and so had she. No more lies.
‘You need to give him more credit,’ I said. ‘He’ll be fine with it.’
She shook her head. ‘He already thinks I control him too much.’
‘Maybe you do? Maybe this is your chance not to.’
Her face dropped. ‘Fine.’ She stood up, picking her umbrella up. ‘I would wish you good luck but I think you can handle it.’
Mairi was wrong. I couldn’t handle it. That was how it felt at first, anyway. As I walked home, I made a resolution to make the call straightaway. But when I picked the phone up, I couldn’t face it, and quickly placed it back down again. My heart hammered in my chest and pulsed in my throat. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to be able to speak, but I knew it had to be done. So I quickly picked the phone up again and dialled the number Mairi had given me. It rang a few times. ‘Hello?’
I closed my eyes, immediately recognising his voice, imagining him on the other end.
‘Dylan, it’s Gwyneth.’
There was no answer, just the sound of his breath.
‘Dylan?’
‘Sorry,’ he said, voice wary. ‘Just a voice I haven’t heard in a while. How are you?’
‘Good. I’m calling for a reason. It’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while but—’ I paused, struggling to speak. ‘There are complicated reasons why I didn’t. But you need to know.’
‘Is everything okay? Are you okay?’
I could hear the worry in his voice. I looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, so I just will: you have a daughter.’
‘What?’ The shock in his voice was palpable.
‘She’s called Lumin and she’s nearly five. I got pregnant in Iceland.’ I realised I was hammering out the facts but it was the only way I could stop myself from breaking down.
I think he stood up as I could hear motion, maybe the sound of him pacing up and down. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘I’m so sorry, Dylan. As I tell you this now, it feels even more cruel. How could I keep this from you?’ My words were tripping over each other. ‘I know you must be very angry, but it was never meant to be a vindictive move on my part. I just couldn’t bear the thought of—’ I stopped talking before I said something stupid that might upset him further. I didn’t want to hurt him more than I had already. ‘Will you say something, Dylan?’
‘Tell me about her.’
Relief flooded through me. ‘She started school last week,’ I said. ‘She’s beautiful and brave and wise for her age. Her teacher tells me she is exceptional at art. She has your high cheekbones and my light hair. She’s everything to me and I hate myself right now for depriving her of a father.’
‘When can I meet her? Where are you based now, London still?’ I leant forward and put my head in my hands. ‘Northumberland, a few hours’ drive from you. I’d like to see you first, face to face. Explain. I don’t want to rush into it, she’s so young …’
‘Does she know about me?’ He sounded so matter-of-fact. Why wasn’t he railing at me, screaming in anger? Maybe I’d prefer it if he did?
‘I’m telling her tonight.’
He let out a surprised breath. ‘Jesus. Fine. I’ll come tomorrow, when she’s at school. I can leave now, stay overnight at a hotel, meet you in the morning.’
I blinked. Tomorrow. It seemed so soon. But what right did I have to say no? ‘Okay. I don’t want to rush Lumin into anything.’ ‘I’ll stay for as long as I need to. When she’s ready – when you’re ready – we can meet. Where exactly do you live?’
I gave him my address and arranged a time to meet the next day while Lumin was at school. Then I sank back into the chair, my whole body shivering.
Lumin was going to meet her father this week. And I was going to see Dylan for the first time in nearly six years
I picked Lumin up that evening in trepidation, worried Mairi would be there. I understood why she felt the way she did but I didn’t like the way she was trying to railroad me. Her way or the highway, I remember my mum used to say. But Mairi wasn’t there and I managed to get Lumin home without seeing her.
I tried not to appear distracted over dinner, focusing on Lumin. Luckily, she was tired and quiet, just wanting to watch TV and eat snacks. Usually, I tried to keep both to a minimum during the week. But I gave her some space. If there was any chance she could sense my mood, the last thing she needed was a battle with me over chocolate and Blue Peter.
The Girl on the Beach: A Heartbreaking Page Turner With a Stunning Twist Page 21