The Last Piece of My Heart

by Paige Toon

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I say when he’s finished. I’ve been sitting on the sofa, rolling a giggling April around on my lap, but I stop when he comes over to show me what he’s done. ‘Will you put it on her wall next to the seahorse?’

  ‘I don’t know. What do you think?’ He seems to genuinely want my opinion.

  ‘I think they’d look great side by side.’

  He nods and starts to leave the kitchen, the heart in his hands, before halting and looking back at me. ‘Will you be okay with April for a bit?’

  ‘Sure.’

  A short while later a hammering noise starts up from above our heads. April gazes at the ceiling with interest.

  ‘Bridget?’ Charlie calls out.

  ‘Yeah?’ I get up and walk to the bottom of the stairs. He’s poking his head over the banister.

  ‘Will you bring her up?’

  I do as he asks, offering April over as I enter her room, but Charlie just nods at the wall. I turn around and look, April still in my arms.

  ‘Oh, it’s so pretty,’ I enthuse.

  April reaches out her hand, trying to touch it. I step in closer so she can.

  ‘Gently,’ I warn softly. She’s surprisingly careful as she traces her fingers across the painted and natural wood. ‘I love it,’ I say, wishing I had one myself. ‘You should sell these. I bet they’d go down really well in the gift shops around here.’

  He shakes his head. ‘Wouldn’t be enough money in it.’

  He does it for love and love alone.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ he asks me, jerking his chin in the direction of the office as he relieves me of April, his warm arms brushing against mine.

  ‘Fine,’ I reply, feeling a little jittery as I take a step backwards.

  ‘Fancy getting out of the house tomorrow?’

  ‘To do what?’ I ask, immediately perking up.

  ‘I know you want to go to the Lost Gardens of Heligan. . .’

  I smile at him. I haven’t stopped bleating on about it.

  ‘But there’s also another place I think you’d like. They’re not far from each other. We could probably squeeze both in.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ve got the time?’

  ‘I can work on the weekend if I need to,’ he says, kissing April’s temple. He returns his gaze to me, concern etched onto his face. ‘Are you all right? You’ve seemed a bit down the last couple of days.’

  ‘I’m okay.’ I shrug. ‘You?’

  ‘Better.’ He nods at me. ‘I could do with a day out, though.’ He pauses. ‘Don’t you think?’

  I nod. ‘That sounds good.’

  He picks me up from the campsite the following morning.

  ‘So where are we going?’ I ask when I’m safely installed in the passenger seat.

  ‘A place called Lansallos Beach. It’s National Trust-owned.’

  ‘Driftwood?’ I ask.

  ‘Unlikely,’ he replies. ‘It’s just really beautiful, and it’s a nice walk down to the cove.’ He checks my choice of footwear: flip-flops. ‘Actually, you’re going to need walking shoes. Sorry.’

  ‘No worries.’ I get back out of the car and go to retrieve my Vans.

  I return a short while later and kick off my flip-flops, pulling on my shoes as Charlie drives out of the campsite.

  ‘Was Lansallos in The Secret Life of Us?’ I’ve been racking my brain, but have come up with nothing.

  ‘Nicki didn’t use the location, but she planned to for the sequel.’

  ‘Oh!’ I say with surprise. ‘Well, that’s brilliant, then. Thanks for taking me.’

  ‘Sure. I only remembered yesterday morning her saying it.’

  I wonder what reminded him of that conversation, but decide not to ask.

  Lansallos is a small, south-facing cove a few miles west of Polperro. It takes us around an hour to get to the car park in Lansallos village, and then it’s a half-mile walk down to the cove. The track is steep and not suitable for a pushchair, so Charlie straps April into her baby backpack, and, after arguing about who’s going to carry the sun tent (he wins), we set off.

  Sun streams down between the flickering discs of green as we walk beneath a shady canopy of trees, and off to our left the golden fields are bathed in morning light. A brook runs parallel to our path on the other side of a stone wall carpeted with thick moss and ferns, so our walk is accompanied by the music of running water. Every so often, we come across random adventure playground equipment made out of wood, like stepping stones, seesaws, climbing frames and balancing beams. I hop along the stepping stones until April whinges to get out of her baby carrier, so I resist mucking around after that in case she wants to copy me. Charlie says she can play on the way back up – he’ll need a break from carrying her.

  Eventually, the wooded walk comes to an end and we pass through a stile and emerge onto a grassy hill leading down to the cove. The sea takes the shape of an inverted isosceles triangle, the apex pointing towards the cove where we’re headed, and the dark-blue horizon forming a straight line across the top.

  The sun is beating down, so I get April’s white hat out of my rucksack – that was the trade-off for Charlie carrying the tent: I take her baby things – and pull it over her head. Charlie says he applied sunscreen before we left.

  From the grassy hill we go through another gate and then walk down a slippery, sandy, rocky path that slopes gently down in the space carved out between two cliffs on either side. The beach at the bottom is small but beautiful, surrounded by interesting rock formations that curve in on either side. The water itself is pale bluey green as it swells into the cove, darker blue further out.

  ‘Wow!’ I say to Charlie.

  ‘Nice, eh?’

  ‘Just a bit.’

  I’m in awe as we crunch over the sand-and-shingle mix beneath our feet. The rocks around the cove are unusual in colour – sort of metallic-looking. Charlie erects the pop-up sun shelter, a small blue-and-white tent, while I walk April around. He intends to try to get her to sleep in the tent so that she doesn’t kick off from exhaustion.

  ‘She’ll be taking her first steps soon,’ I say to Charlie, as he emerges from the tent, having straightened out a stripy, coloured beach towel. ‘She’s very steady on her feet.’

  He smiles at his daughter. ‘Can you walk without holding Bridget’s hand?’ He takes her from me and steps back a few paces, then stands her on her feet. ‘Go to Bridget,’ he says, carefully letting her go. She wobbles and clutches onto his hands. He looks at me, his lips tilting up at the corners, and I suddenly feel a bit peculiar.

  ‘Come on, April.’ I kneel down, trying to ignore the niggling sensation in the pit of my stomach.

  He lets her go again. ‘Go to Bridget,’ he says.

  ‘Come on, April,’ I repeat.

  She takes one step and then grapples for Charlie’s hands again.

  ‘Let me try.’ I pick her up and turn her around to face him. ‘Go to Daddy.’

  One step, two steps. . . Charlie and I glance at each other in delight. Plonk. She sits down on her bottom.

  ‘April, that was brilliant!’ he says excitedly, picking her up and kissing her over and over again on her cheek. ‘You walked two steps! Do you want to try again?’

  She shakes her head at him.

  ‘Go on,’ he urges, passing her back to me.

  ‘What a clever girl!’ I say. ‘Go to Daddy.’

  She lets out a whingeing sound and grabs onto my forearms.

  I don’t want to make her cry. . .

  ‘Come on, darling, you can do it,’ Charlie encourages, waggling his hands about.

  One step, two steps. . .

  ‘Good girl!’ Charlie says. ‘Keep going!’

  Three steps. . . And. . . Plonk.

  We both fall over ourselves in congratulating her. I never thought I’d be this impressed by an ankle-biter.

  There’s a buzzing sound of a mobile phone turned onto silent. Charlie gets his phone out of his pocket.

/>   ‘Kate,’ he tells me, still smiling as he presses answer.

  ‘April just took three steps!’ he exclaims into the mouthpiece. Even though he’s walked a few metres away from us, I can still hear her overjoyed response.

  ‘Lansallos,’ he says. ‘Just hanging out.’

  I continue to hold April’s hand as she toddles around – unwilling to risk letting her go while Charlie’s otherwise engaged. With one ear on the conversation, though, it doesn’t escape my notice that Charlie comes to the end of the call without once mentioning my name.

  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Kate might think it’s a bit off that we’re out together like this. I mean, I should really be at home writing her sister’s book. . . But I am working, I remind myself.

  ‘Thanks,’ Charlie says to me as he stuffs his phone into his back pocket. ‘I can take her.’

  ‘I might climb up onto the rocks,’ I say, wanting to take a closer look.

  ‘Don’t slip,’ he cautions.

  ‘I won’t.’

  I get out my camera and hook the strap over my head, then dig my notepad and pen out of my rucksack.

  The boulders by the shore are easy to navigate, so thick with molluscs that there’s plenty of grip beneath my feet. As I climb up, I see dozens of rock pools, large and small, full of plants and sea life.

  Does the tide really reach all the way up here? I scan the beach for a water line and find it right up by the cliffs.

  I peer closer at the rocks surrounding the cove. The colours are incredible – shimmering and metallic, made up of green, mauve and grey, from light to charcoal. It looks like slate – there are millions and millions of shard-thin layers. I step over a gap below and stand on the other side, tracing my hands over the layers. A piece comes away easily in my fingers. I turn to look for Charlie and April and catch him watching me. I wave.

  ‘Careful,’ he mouths, looking concerned.

  I shrug at him and turn back to the rock face, gingerly climbing further around the corner towards the water. I come across a small, dark cave and sit down, facing the rolling ocean, my notepad and pen at the ready. An idea strikes for a Kit-and-Morris scene, so I begin writing.

  After I don’t know how long, I hear a voice. ‘Excuse me?’

  I look up to see a girl in her twenties, wearing a pink T-shirt and shorts. She’s standing on the rocks across the gap. ‘Are you Bridget?’ she asks, her dark hair swinging in its ponytail.

  ‘Yes,’ I say with surprise.

  ‘Your husband was worried about you.’ She looks back at the beach, waving and giving Charlie, I presume, the thumbs-up sign.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I try to keep a straight face at her assumption. ‘But thank you.’

  ‘Okay, cool,’ she says, turning away and stepping carefully over the rocks. I watch her for a moment, but she doesn’t attempt to engage me in further conversation. Who the hell was that?

  ‘Just some random stranger,’ Charlie tells me with a smile when I return to the beach. ‘She was climbing up onto the rocks so I asked her to look out for you.’

  I wonder how he described me and then I wonder why I wondered.

  ‘I couldn’t leave April,’ he says, glancing over his shoulder. He’s sitting in front of the tent with his arms looped around his knees.

  ‘How long has she been asleep?’ I sit down beside him.

  ‘Only about ten minutes,’ he replies. ‘Feeling inspired?’ He nods at my notepad.

  ‘Completely. This place is so beautiful, I never want to leave.’

  ‘So you don’t want to try to squeeze in Heligan today?’

  ‘Can we go there some other time?’ I ask. ‘Actually, you don’t have to go there with me at all,’ I state quickly, remembering who I am and what I’m here for.

  ‘I’d like to, if that’s cool.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ I say, trying not to show that I’m pleased. I turn and grab a handful of shingle, letting it sift through my fingers. ‘Oh look!’ I hold up a tiny, smooth piece of bottle-green glass. ‘Sea glass.’

  ‘Open your hand,’ Charlie prompts.

  I glance at him with surprise. He’s holding his fist out to me, so I uncurl my palm. He drops a small handful of glass straight into it.

  ‘Where did you get it?’ I ask with delight. The pieces range from the size of a fifty-pence piece to smaller than a penny, and come in shades of green, brown, blue, red and yellow.

  ‘April and I were looking for it. I’ve found sea glass before at this beach.’

  ‘What are you going to use it for?’ I dust sand grains off a couple of the larger pieces and then brush the same sand off my legs. I’m wearing my denim shorts today.

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Something.’

  The three biggest pieces are green, brown and yellow, in that order. For some strange reason I imagine them being melted together into one piece of polished glass. And, for an even stranger reason still, Charlie’s eyes spring to mind.

  God, I’m weird. Why did I even think that?

  ‘Look what I got,’ I say in turn, emptying my notepad of stone shards onto his hands. ‘Aren’t the colours stunning?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says with wonder, bringing a piece up close to his eyes and turning it this way and that as he studies it.

  ‘Haven’t you ever climbed up there?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head. ‘I’ve always had April with me.’

  ‘You didn’t come here with Nicki?’

  ‘No, she found this place on her own and told me about it. I only visited for the first time a few months ago.’

  ‘Where do you want me to put these?’ I ask after a moment, holding out my fist.

  ‘Swap.’

  We exchange our finds and I put the shards back in my notebook so they don’t get broken. They’re very fragile.

  ‘Is your friend coming this weekend?’ he asks me.

  ‘Marty? No.’

  ‘Oh.’ He frowns. ‘I thought you were going to ask her.’

  ‘I did,’ I murmur, sifting through another handful of shingle. ‘She only got back from holiday last Friday. She wants to chill at home with her boyfriend this weekend before she goes away again.’

  I was pretty disappointed when she told me that.

  ‘Have you got any other plans?’ he asks, and I know he feels bad for me, which is a bit embarrassing.

  ‘Not yet.’ I shrug. ‘But I have plenty of work to catch up on.’

  ‘Why don’t we do Heligan on Saturday, then?’ he suggests.

  I give him a small sideways look. ‘I thought you needed to work.’ We’re here on a Thursday, after all.

  ‘I’ve got ages until my next big deadline,’ he replies. ‘If you don’t want me to come, though, just say.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘What is it, then?’

  ‘No, it’s just a bit. . . I guess it makes me feel. . . I don’t know. I know you’re just trying to be kind, but it’s not like we’re friends, are we?’

  He recoils. ‘Aren’t we?’

  ‘Are we?’ My brow furrows.

  He looks affronted. ‘Sorry, I kind of thought we were.’

  Now I feel really bad. ‘God. I don’t know why I just said that. I kind of thought we were too, but argh. Something you said the other day reminded me that I’m just an employee.’

  ‘What the fuck did I say?’ he asks, alarmed.

  Christ, this is awkward. But he seems completely offended, so I force myself to continue. I remind him of what he said in Nicki’s office about my listening to him, not being what I was there for.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant. . . Well, it’s not anybody’s job to listen to me.’

  ‘Well, that’s not true. That’s what friends and family are for. It’s exactly their job.’

  ‘I don’t really like talking about what happened to Nicki.’

  ‘No, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Sometimes talking gets stuff out of your head and makes it easier to deal wit
h.’

  ‘Wait, that’s not why you’ve been quiet the last few days, is it?’

  I shrug.

  ‘Did I really upset you?’ He’s staring at me with growing horror and my cheeks begin to heat up.

  ‘No.’ I wave him away, but then sigh and stare at the sky. ‘Maybe just a little.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and giving me a quick squeeze. He lets me go again. ‘I wasn’t with it that day.’

  ‘It was my fault for putting the heart in April’s room. I felt like such a frigging idiot.’

  He falls quiet. After a long moment, he says, ‘I don’t know why because I hate losing it like that, but I’m kind of glad that you did.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘It’s pizza night!’ I say excitedly later that evening when Charlie drives up the steep hill leading to the campsite and the green horsebox comes into view. ‘I totally forgot!’

  ‘Oh, man. . .’ He stares longingly at the people queuing up for wood-fired-oven yumminess.

  ‘Stay and have one with me?’ I suggest.

  ‘Yeah?’ he asks distractedly, his eyes following a man carrying four pizza boxes across the road in the direction of the field steps. He looks at me and grins. ‘All right.’

  I don’t have a neighbour at the moment so he parks up next to Hermie.

  ‘Do you reckon April will be okay with the salt?’ he asks as he gets her out of her car seat.

  ‘I dunno.’

  ‘She’s almost one,’ he muses.

  ‘A margherita should be fine.’

  ‘Yeah, it should be, shouldn’t it?’

  I still find it bizarre that he even wants my opinion.

  ‘I’ll go and order,’ he tells me. ‘Do you know what you’re having?’

  ‘I might go for the veggie one today,’ I reply. ‘I’ll get the table sorted.’

  He comes back with a couple of bottles. On pizza night, a company turns up selling local ales and ciders. He’s opted for the latter.

  It’s such a mild, balmy evening that I decide to dig the second camping chair out of the boot so we can both sit outside in the late sunshine while we’re waiting for our food.

  ‘You could do with a camping table, too,’ Charlie says. ‘I’ve got one somewhere. I think it’s in the shed.’