‘I’m sorry, it must be a shock for you,’ he said, looking across at Patricia, who was also watching her mother.
‘Mum, why don’t you and BB sit on the patio and I’ll go make us all some tea?’
Once she’d settled herself on one of the cushioned teak chairs, Elisabett glanced at BB. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever seen a photo of my father. Mother didn’t have one. He was a handsome man, wasn’t he?’ She looked at BB. ‘I can see the family likeness.’
‘Jessica, my sister, is sending the original over. When it arrives, it’s yours,’ BB said. ‘There’s also some letters Florrie wrote to him on the days they couldn’t meet.’
‘She was never told officially, you know, that he’d died,’ Elisabett said. ‘The official channels of information were all denied to her because they weren’t married or related. It was only when news of the tragedy started to circulate in town that she knew something dreadful had happened to him.’
‘That must have been so hard for her,’ BB said quietly.
Elisabett nodded. ‘It was. She rarely talked about the war or him when I was growing up, although my stepfather never let me forget I was not his.’
Elisabett took off her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It wasn’t until I was a teenage rebel that I demanded to know everything about him and announced that I was off to find my American family that she finally opened up about him.’ Elisabett shook her head.
‘She had very little to tell me really, except she was heartbroken when he died. Said he was the love of her life.’ Fiddling with her wedding ring, she continued, ‘She never even had the chance to tell him about me. Didn’t have an American address for the family either. All she knew was that he came from somewhere in South Carolina.’ Elisabett laughed. ‘Imagine if I’d carried out my threat and gone looking – it would have been like trying to find a sprat in a shoal of mackerel.’
‘I, of course, have spent many years dreaming of my American family arriving on the doorstep and whisking me away, and now you’ve finally turned up.’
Patricia arrived just then with a tray laden with tea and scones.
‘You all right, Mum?’
Elisabett nodded, blinking back the tears.
BB took her hand in his. ‘Did your mother know Lance’s brother Randy, my grandfather, was a GI too?’
‘She never said. Did he die in the tragedy too?’
‘No. He wasn’t on board the boats that night. If my grandparents had known about Lance and you, I know they would have made every attempt possible to contact your mother.’
‘Nobody knew about them,’ Elisabett said. ‘That was one thing mother did say. The locals weren’t really allowed to mix with the army. Security was tight – although not tight enough, it seems. Their love had to remain a secret from everyone until after the war was over.’
She took the tissue Patricia handed her and wiped her eyes.
‘So how did you find me?’
‘Serendipity,’ BB said honestly. ‘Randy met a Dartmouth girl too, Mary Seale – maybe your mother knew her? Their love had a happier ending, even though Mary’s family disowned her. Mary ran away to America and they were married in 1946. Jessica – that’s my sister – and I have been researching, trying to find the Seale relatives. Who, incidentally, appear to have died out. I just happened to see the record of your christening with Lance named as your father.’ He took the cup of tea Patricia passed to him. ‘Thanks.’
‘I couldn’t believe it, to be honest. I haven’t told Jessica yet about you. I wanted to make sure it was true before I said anything. I only wish Grandpa Lance and Grandma Mary were still alive. My mother though, will be thrilled.’
‘That was something else I missed out on – loving grandparents. My mother’s parents never got over the scandal,’ Elisabett said. ‘After mother married, she and my stepfather moved to Brixham and simply lost touch with her family. Probably still got relatives over there in Dartmouth too that I know nothing about.’
She picked up the plate of scones that Patricia had placed on the table in front of them and offered it to BB, along with a bowl of clotted cream and jar of homemade jam.
‘Dysfunctional families existed long before the twenty-first century,’ she said, laughing as he helped himself to a scone. ‘I’m so happy part of mine is finally – how would you phrase it? Ah, I know, getting it together.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SABINE
Sabine sat in one of the director’s chairs outside the kiosk and fanned herself with the Dartmouth Chronicle she was too hot to read. Just gone three p.m., and the heat was intense. She didn’t dare look at the thermometer pinned to the kiosk wall. The last time she’d looked it had said twenty-seven degrees and that had been hours ago. It felt hotter than ever now, the gentle breeze coming off the river doing little to cool things down.
The town was quiet with very few people wandering around. Families had gone to the beach, day-trippers had taken refuge in various cafes and sensible locals were staying indoors until things started to cool down. The trip tonight, due to set off at seven o’clock, was only half full but Sabine anticipated a last-minute rush of bookings as the heat died and people visualised the enjoyment of spending a couple of hours out on the water in the cool of the evening.
Looking out across the river to where Owen’s boats were moored, she caught the occasional glimpse of Owen and Peter on board Queen of the River, doing some routine maintenance. Since he’d learnt about inheriting the business, Peter had taken over more and more responsibility for the day-to-day running of the business. Even telling Owen they needed to talk as he had lots of plans for expansion next season, much to Owen’s amusement.
She smiled as she saw Johnnie walking towards her, clutching ice creams in one hand and struggling to push Carla in her pushchair with the other.
‘You’re a star,’ she said, accepting the coffee-flavoured ice cream cone with its 99 chocolate flake. ‘Just what I needed. I was too lazy to walk up and buy one.’
For several minutes they concentrated on eating their ice creams before the sun melted them. Johnnie, though, fought a losing battle with Carla’s face and hands as her chocolate ice cream dripped faster than she could lick it.
‘Owen talked to you recently about the trip?’ Johnny asked as he searched in the pushchair bag for a wet wipe to give Carla’s face a clean.
‘You mean apart from constantly nagging me to go with him?’
‘He’s planning to go to Thailand now, you know,’ Johnnie said. ‘He’s made contact with a woman over there.’
Sabine stared at him.
‘Maybe he’ll come back with a mail order bride,’ Johnnie said, not looking at her.
‘Over my dead body!’ The words were out before she realised the significance of them. How jealous she felt at the suggestion.
‘See, you do care. Don’t worry, I made that up to see your reaction.’ Johnnie looked at her.
‘Seriously, Sis, why the hell don’t you a) go travelling with him and b) marry him.’
‘Travelling with him would mean leaving you to cope with Carla without any backup,’ Sabine said, ignoring the second question.
‘Not a good-enough excuse,’ Johnnie said. ‘Carla and I are settling in together just fine. Besides, I do have women friends in town, you know. Harriet and Rachel, to mention but two.’
‘Ah, Rachel. You deliberately keeping her away from me?’ Sabine said, glad of an opportunity to steer the conversation away from her and Owen. ‘If she knows I’m your sister, I’m surprised she hasn’t come by the kiosk and introduced herself.’ She looked suspiciously at Johnnie. ‘She does know I’m your sister?’
Johnnie nodded. ‘Of course. She was busy the evening I suggested supper and now she’s away for a couple of weeks. When she gets back I’ll introduce you. Promise.’
‘Make sure you do.’
‘So,’ Johnnie said. ‘No worries about me not coping with Carla while you’re away. And
then, when you get back, Carla will love being a bridesmaid at her Auntie Sabine’s wedding. Won’t you, ma chérie?’ He looked at Carla, smiling.
‘Hey, slow down,’ Sabine said. ‘Agreeing to go travelling with Owen is one thing. Getting married is maybe a step too far.’
‘It’s a step you should have taken years ago,’ Johnnie said. ‘Right, we’re off to the park.’
Sabine bent down and kissed Carla. ‘Have fun. See you soon.’
Johnnie was so much happier these days since Carla had appeared in his life. It was because he finally had a purpose again, Sabine decided. She couldn’t help wondering though whether it was just Carla who’d put a spring in his step, or whether this Rachel had something to do with it as well. She must make a real effort to meet and become friends with her.
Folding up one of the chairs to put away, the Save the Kiosk poster she’d pinned to the door at the beginning of the season caught her eye. Faded by the sun, the writing was illegible and she reached up and took it down. No point in leaving it up there.
The petition itself was languishing on the shelf by the biscuit tin. Guiltily Sabine realised she hadn’t accosted anyone to sign the petition for weeks now. Thoughts about the kiosk had slid to the back of her mind recently. She doubted too that Johnnie had given it any thought since the arrival of Carla in his life.
Sabine turned to deal with a couple of holidaymakers who wanted to book tickets for a boat trip at the weekend. By the time she’d issued their tickets and entered the details on the boat’s booking form, Owen was standing at her side waiting for her to be free.
‘Seen BB recently?’ he asked.
Sabine shook her head. ‘No. Why?’
‘Remember the boat Chevalier? Used to belong to old Harry the river pilot years ago. BB’s buying it.’
‘Good for him.’
‘He’s planning to sail it back to America, September/October time,’ Owen said. ‘Looking for crew already. Reckons he only needs two.’
Sabine looked at him, already knowing what he was going to suggest but waiting for him to say it.
‘I’ve agreed to be one of his crew. You up for being the other one? You said you wanted to see America. Perfect opportunity.’
Sabine bit her lip, Johnnie’s earlier comments still resounding in her thoughts. Was this crunch time? Did she want to commit herself to this right now? If she agreed, there would be no backing out. She’d be letting BB down as well as Owen if she changed her mind.
She took a deep breath. ‘Bit rusty as far as sailing goes. I haven’t done any for years.’
‘It’s not something you forget how to do,’ Owen said. ‘Besides, you can always become the galley slave.’
‘Chauvinist,’ Sabine said. ‘Okay. I’ll do it. We’ll go see the world together.’
She placed a subtle emphasis on the word ‘together’ and hoped from the look on his face that Owen had heard and picked up on the unspoken message in the reply she had just given him.
LATE SEASON
CHAPTER FORTY
BB
Out on the garden terrace, BB switched on his laptop and opened the video calling feature. If he’d timed it right, both Mom and Jessica would be home. It was Jessica who opened the connection.
‘Hi, Bro. What’s up?’
‘Nothing. Everything is great. Really great,’ BB said. ‘Is Mom there? I’ve got news to share.’
He waited while Jessica shouted ‘Mom. Golden boy wants to talk to you!’
‘Do wish you wouldn’t call me that,’ BB said. ‘It’s so not true.’ He checked his video was up and running. He wanted to see both their faces when he told them the news.
‘Hi, Mom. How you doing?’ he asked as she appeared next to Jessica.
‘Fine. So what’s this news?’ Marilyn Brael said.
‘I’ve found the perfect boat,’ BB said, failing to fight his urge to tease Jessica, knowing how much she wanted an English connection. ‘It’s a beautiful wooden ketch. Everything I wanted in a boat.’
‘Pleased for you,’ Jessica asked. ‘Is that it?’
‘Yes. No.’ He paused. ‘I’ve also found and met the English connection.’
‘Woah!’ Jessica said. ‘We really do have relatives over there? Seale or Holdsworth? How closely related?’
‘Neither. Connections to both those families appear to have died out. But we do have cousins here for sure. I’ve met with them.’
‘If the link has died out, how come?’ Jessica asked.
‘Great-uncle Lance.’
‘Impossible. He died in the war,’ his mother said.
‘Like Grandpa Randy, he met and fell in love with a local girl,’ BB said. ‘She was pregnant with a baby girl when he was killed. He never knew, so couldn’t have told Grandpa who would, I know, have done his darnedest to find her and help.’
‘So is our great-aunt over there still alive?’ Jessica said.
‘She’s dead but her daughter, Elisabett James, is very much alive. She has a family too. Elisabett is two years older than you, Mom. Her daughter, Cousin Patricia, is in her forties and so is her brother Oliver. Haven’t met him yet. He lives somewhere called Cumbria.’
‘Did you take photos when you met them?’ Marilyn asked.
‘I forgot. Too excited. I’m seeing them again soon. Will take some and email them to you.’
‘Make sure you do. Tell them anytime they want to visit, they’ll be more than welcome.’
‘They’ve already issued the same invitation to you,’ BB said. ‘So hopefully you’ll all get to meet soon. I’m here for another couple of weeks if you want to come over?’
Marilyn shook her head. ‘Too much going on here for the next month. We’ll arrange a visit for next year. Now, tell us about the boat you’ve found.’
For the next five minutes, BB talked about Chevalier, filling them in on its history and saying how much he was looking forward to sailing her back to Southern Carolina.
Fifteen minutes later, he cut the Skype link having been caught up to date by Marilyn and Jessica with things going on back home and sat back, a smile on his face. Marilyn and Jessica were already talking about a holiday in England next year and he was definitely going to hold them to that. He wanted them to meet Rachel too.
With Rachel away on holiday, he’d got into the habit of spending more time in the cottage, enjoying the freedom of having time on his own in such delightful surroundings. It was like a second home to him now. The day Johnnie had introduced him to Rachel had been a fortuitous one for him.
Briefly he wondered if Johnnie had managed to contact Rachel before she went away. Somehow he doubted it. She’d been in a hurry to go. Said something about a lucky cancellation in the hotel of her choice somewhere down in Cornwall. Hopefully she was having a good time, he’d thought she’d looked rather strained before she left.
Before he closed the laptop down, BB checked his emails. Johnnie had arranged for him to crew on Chevalier tomorrow in one of the Regatta races and he lived in fear of it being cancelled. No email to that effect, so an early start in the morning. Couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
HARRIET
A perfect early evening during Regatta Week and the Lewis family were together on the terrace, each enjoying the moment in their own way.
Harriet, looking out across the river to Kingswear, remembered long ago years when she’d stood here waiting for the Red Arrows to show off their aerobatics. Frank, his binoculars trained on the yachts returning from racing out in the bay, thought about learning to sail, while Ellie was curled up in one of the ancient cane chairs flicking through a glossy magazine.
Earlier they’d been in town soaking up the atmosphere of Regatta Week and watching the dinghies sailing on the river. Harriet couldn’t get over the number of activities that were available all week.
The town bustled with life from early morning to late at night. The river, chock-full with boats of all sizes including two tall ships and a naval frigate, was a si
ght to see, particularly at night when many of the yachts were dressed overall. Harriet couldn’t remember it ever being so crowded.
‘Regatta’s grown so much. We always had the funfair, the slippery pole, crabbing competitions and fireworks, but now there is so much more. As for the street entertainment, it’s amazing.’
‘Think I might take up sailing,’ Frank said, the binoculars now fixed on one particular yacht making its way up river. ‘Looks more exhilarating than golf.’
‘That reminds me. I need to organise getting the old dinghy in the garage checked out so I can teach Ellie to sail,’ Harriet said. ‘Want me to teach you, too?’
‘Not dinghy sailing,’ Frank said. ‘I fancy something bigger. Like that one.’ And he pointed to the sleek thirty footer he’d been concentrating on.
‘Mmm,’ Harriet said. ‘Moorings are hard to come by these days. They’ll have to be quick to pick up their moorings,’ she continued. ‘I think all movement on the river is forbidden while the Red Arrows are doing their display.’
‘How long before they start?’ Ellie asked.
‘About quarter of an hour,’ Harriet said, glancing at her watch. ‘Feels strange being out here with just the three of us waiting. Amy issued an open house invite every year to watch the Red Arrows. This terrace and the garden were always crowded with her friends. Next year I’ll organise a BBQ.’
Hearing her mobile phone inside on the kitchen table give a short ring indicating she had a message, she said, ‘I’ll fetch the jug of Pimms from the fridge and see who that was.’
Harriet read the message from BB and quickly texted a reply before going back out to the terrace. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Her heart had always belonged to Dartmouth, to this house even, and right now life was just about perfect.
Ellie was pointing out something to Frank in the magazine she’d been reading and they were both laughing. The two of them had always shared the same sense of humour and could cry with laughter over something that Harriet found only mildly amusing. Both great practical jokers, Harriet had learned early on to be very alert on 1st April, or suffer the consequences. Inevitably, one or the other of them always managed to fool her.
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