by Kate Ryder
Incredulously, Oliver stares at his wife. ‘This Pins, then, is a bit of a philosopher, is he?’ he says, quietly sarcastic.
Deanna’s face flushes with colour. Glancing over Oliver’s shoulder, she checks the doorway. ‘No. He’s simply a friend who wants me to feel good about myself.’
Despite the irritation her words create, Oliver places a hand on his wife’s arm and gives a gentle squeeze. ‘I want you to feel good about yourself, Deanna. None of what’s happened to us is a personal slight on you. It’s all to do with my shortcomings.’ Ignoring Deanna’s derisive snort, he continues, ‘Everything I’ve done in my life has been about you and our family.’
‘Not everything, Oliver. A bit of selective memory there, I think.’
Oliver blanches. She’s referring to Cara, of course. His one major lapse. Even now, these many months on, he is powerless against overwhelming feelings for her. He knows that if Deanna hadn’t used their youngest son as a pawn that summer – fully aware that Jamie’s quiet behaviour and proclivity towards introspection is Oliver’s Achilles heel – he would now be living with Cara in Cornwall.
Deanna turns away as the kettle reaches boiling point.
‘Leave it, Dee,’ he says, catching hold of his wife’s wrist. ‘We need to talk.’ He guides her towards the kitchen table. ‘I’ve been thinking about our situation while I’ve been away.’
‘So have I,’ says Deanna, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
Oliver pulls out a chair next to her. Taking her hands in his, he examines her long, slim fingers. Perfectly elegant, just as she is. Eventually he looks up and meets her gaze. ‘You have been with me from the tiniest flicker of fame. I know it hasn’t always been easy, but over two decades together is something we cannot ignore. I also know I’ve hurt you deeply and you have to believe me when I say I’m not proud of that.’ He feels Deanna is about to pull away and increases his hold. ‘Hear me out, Dee,’ he says, searching his attractive wife’s guarded face.
Deanna shifts awkwardly.
‘If we are to have a future together we have to work through this and find a way back to each other, not just for the children’s sake but for ours,’ says Oliver. ‘If you truly don’t feel happy with your circumstances I think it’s time we did something about it.’
Deanna’s mouth drops open. This is Oliver at his best: sympathetic and tender. It makes her powerless to resist… if only he knew.
‘I am prepared to put my career on hold while you examine your options and find out what it is that fulfils you.’
Deanna’s jaw drops further. Quickly, she composes herself. ‘Ollie, you have no idea what that means to me.’ Placing her arms around his neck, she draws him into a kiss.
Oliver’s eyelids briefly close, but almost immediately they snap open at the sudden vision of a beautiful golden woman standing on a deserted beach, shining her God-given light.
Swiftly, Oliver gets to his feet. ‘Come on, Dee, let’s join the boys.’ He pulls his wife out of her chair. ‘I have gifts to distribute.’
Three
Cara slides the last canvas into the car and closes the boot. She looks out across the Atlantic in the direction of Puerto Rico and wonders what all those people four thousand miles away are doing. Although there’s a chill in the air, it’s still and calm today. A seagull catches her attention and she watches it glide on the thermals, eyeing the beach below for any tasty morsel. Cara wraps her cardigan more closely around her body. She loves the cove. In the past it has offered her the solace she needs, but life is changing. Today, she feels as if everything is slipping through her fingers. It’s a feeling she’s lived with ever since that fateful day when Oliver was so abruptly and brutally snatched away from her. Of course, despite the dreams they’d shared, she knew in her heart there was no other possible outcome for their romance. From the start she’d known he was married and had a family of his own. He hadn’t hidden that from her; he was totally honest and upfront. When she first met him, she was still reeling from her husband’s untimely death and hadn’t expected to fall for anyone ever again. The love she and Oliver so unexpectedly shared was not only intoxicating but also such a gift, drawing her out from the abyss she was fast drowning in. However, in that moment at the Minack – forever etched upon her soul – his wife made it patently clear that Oliver was not for the having. Nevertheless, it doesn’t make the yearning any less raw. Cara takes a slow, deep breath. She has to forget him. She has to…
Stirring herself into action, she walks around the side of the car and opens the driver’s door. Climbing in, she turns to Toby, strapped in the baby seat in the back. ‘OK, young man, ready to visit Aunty Janine?’
The little boy smiles delightedly and holds out his chubby hands to Cara. Scrunching her nose at him, she is instantly rewarded with a giggle.
Cara expertly navigates the tight turning circle in front of The Lookout and heads off down the track skirting the cove. She doesn’t have to travel far. The café at the head of the track is closed until Easter – still several weeks away – and the car park is empty, apart from Janine’s vehicle. Parking as close to the building as possible, Cara unstraps Toby from his car seat and gathers him up into her arms.
‘You’re getting to be a heavy little fella, Toby Penhaligon,’ she lovingly says as she carries him towards the entrance door.
Janine is pinning bunting under the newly painted counter when Cara enters the café. Abandoning her titivating, she strides across the wooden floor and embraces both Cara and Toby in a massive bear hug. ‘Darling people!’
Cara has never grown used to her neighbour’s larger than life presence; though she knows the tall woman with an even bigger voice possesses a heart of pure twenty-four-carat gold.
‘Janine, you’ve done wonders,’ Cara says, positioning Toby on her hip and gazing around.
‘Not bad, honey, if I say so myself!’ Janine looks around the café with pride. ‘Come and see the new signs. The sign man’s coming over later this morning to fix them. There’s one to go over the entrance door, and a longer one for the windows overlooking the boardwalk. I’m really pleased with them.’
Cara approaches the table. Two signs are laid out; one square, the other oblong. ‘Oh they’re lovely!’ she exclaims.
Painted onto a background of pale chalk blue is an illustration of a steaming coffee cup on a beach with the sea behind. In stylish writing, the words:
Janine’s Coffee Shop & Café
sit within swirly lines adorned with breaking waves and a seagull. Beneath this it states:
Proudly serving whatever we make!
‘I wanted to feminise the café. Rick’s style worked for him, but I want this enterprise to start as it means to go on.’
‘Rick’s Beach Hut is no more,’ says Cara, gazing at the painted walls that were previously natural wood. Janine has chosen a muted pastel palette and the space is light and welcoming. ‘This is really pretty. If I were on holiday I’d want to visit every day.’
Janine beams. ‘If Rick and Tania ever return to the cove I hope they approve of the changes.’
‘Have you heard from them?’
Janine shakes her head. ‘No. Typical, isn’t it? Sweeping in here, like he did, taking over the rundown fisherman’s hut and turning it into a really successful and cool place to hang out. But it obviously wasn’t enough for Rick. Almost as soon as Tania turns up, off they go on another adventure!’
Cara laughs. ‘Yes, he certainly made some waves here.’
‘I don’t begrudge them sailing off around the world – I’d do it if I could – but I do wonder if we’ll ever see them again.’ Janine looks around the café. ‘I was so lucky to get this place. It was kind of him to offer me first refusal.’
‘He could see you had the energy to make a go of it,’ says Cara, now swinging Toby between her legs. ‘I know he wanted someone he respected to take it on.’
‘Well, there was a bit of negotiating,’ says Janine, pulling a face, ‘but in
the end we agreed on a figure that suited us both. It gave him the cash to splash out on that yacht.’
‘Wonder how Tania’s coping holed up with him on a boat,’ says Cara.
‘Yes, she was always one for a party! Can’t see her settling for the attentions of just one man. Perhaps I should call ahead and alert all the men in their next port of call!’
Cara laughs. Tania was a good sport. Networking was her life and they all got on well. But then she remembers how Tania grew uncharacteristically quiet as her pregnancy progressed. She said all the right things when Toby was born, but it wasn’t the Tania she’d come to know. Interesting…
‘Do me a favour, Janine, and keep an eye on Toby while I bring in the paintings.’
‘Ooh yes! Any excuse for a cuddle! Come to Aunty Janine, young man.’ The big woman holds out her hands to the little boy.
Cara guides her son on unsteady legs towards the new owner of the beach café before collecting her canvases from the boot of the car. For the next hour, she and Janine hang a number of seascapes and landscapes around the café before finally adding sales stickers alongside each painting.
‘They’re beautiful, Cara,’ says Janine. ‘I hope loads of customers buy them as a reminder of their holiday in Cornwall.’
‘Well, if they do let me know straight away and I’ll restock,’ Cara says. She looks around and smiles, pleased with the display. The pretty and welcoming café is the perfect showcase for her paintings. ‘It looks like you’ve been here forever, Janine.’
‘It does feel like home,’ Janine says with satisfaction.
‘What’s that bunting you’ve got over there?’ Cara asks.
‘Oh, I’d forgotten all about that!’ Marching over to the counter, Janine picks up the abandoned fabric. ‘I knocked it up last night. What do you think?’ She holds the string of flags out at arm’s length.
The vintage cotton triangles are in various shades of sea blues and greens and adorned with ditsy prints, rose designs, retro florals, polka dots and gingham. In contrasting fabric on several flags, appliqued lettering spells out Coffee and Cakes.
‘Perfect!’ Cara smiles at her neighbour. ‘And I can’t wait to sample those cakes. Hurry up, Easter.’
‘What about sampling some now, if you’ve got time?’ suggests Janine. ‘I baked a cake for the sign man when he arrives, so there’s plenty for us.’
Still feeling unsettled and out of sorts, Cara checks her watch. Perhaps it would be good to spend more time in the company of her jovial neighbour. The commission she’s working on can wait.
‘That would be great. Thanks, Janine. Do you mind if I breastfeed Toby?’
‘Goodness, Cara, of course not!’ exclaims Janine. ‘This is an all-woman zone. Embrace your womanhood, I say!’
Cara smiles. Lifting Toby into her arms, she walks to a table. These, too, have been re-invented in a pastel chalk paint finish. Laying Toby across her lap, she raises her sweatshirt and offers her breast to the little boy, who enthusiastically latches on.
As Janine busies herself with the cakes and lattes, Cara gazes out at the ocean. It’s a dull day. Heavy clouds hang over the cove and quiet waves lap the sand. She watches a couple of herring gulls picking at a mollusc at the water’s edge and reminds herself to add these birds to the commission she’s working on. Their light grey backs, white underparts and black wing tips will make a stark contrast to the acres of blue.
‘Here you go,’ says Janine, placing two mugs of coffee and plates filled with generous portions of chocolate cake on the table. ‘Enjoy!’
Cara picks up a fork. Slicing off a mouthful of cake, she pops it into her mouth. ‘Mmmm… that’s delicious.’
‘My mother’s recipe,’ says Janine. ‘She was a tremendous cook. That’s why all her children have grown to the size we have!’
‘Sorry to interrupt.’ A man’s strong Cornish accent makes them both jump. ‘I’ve come to fix the sign.’ Janine pushes back her chair and rushes over to him.
Toby, who had been falling asleep with his mouth slack around Cara’s right nipple, wakes suddenly and energetically sucks. Cara winces. She looks across at the man who, although talking to Janine, watches her.
‘Well, isn’t that a lovely sight?’ he says, scratching his head. ‘Fair made my day, that has!’
Cara smiles.
Janine glances over her shoulder at Cara. ‘Probably won’t make your day if you hang around for the nappy-changing part, Jim.’ She bustles the man out of the café.
Toby closes his eyes. Cara carefully removes him from her breast and pulls her sweatshirt down. Her son has incredibly thick black eyelashes and she wonders if Oliver had at that age too. NO! She has to stop doing this. Oliver Foxley does not exist. He is a world and a lifetime away…
‘Sorry about that,’ Janine says, returning to the table.
‘No worries, Janine. Breastfeeding’s only natural.’
‘Yes, but you don’t want any old Tom, Dick or Harry watching you while you do it,’ Janine says.
‘Or Jim…’
Janine laughs. ‘He’s a good guy. I’ve known him for years. He’s got eight grandchildren, so I guess he’s used to it. How’s the latte?’
‘Scrumptious. If I get into the habit of this indulgence I’ll have to start running again.’
‘I should take up running as well,’ comments Janine. ‘I don’t suppose customers want to be served by a large, sweaty lump of a woman.’
‘Oh, Janine! Your weight’s perfectly fine for your height.’
‘Yeah, guess so. Anyway, hubby never complains when he’s home from the rigs. Puts slighter men off though,’ Janine says with a laugh, ‘like that American friend of yours. When I first met him he actually cowered!’
Cara raises her eyebrows. She thinks back to the day when Greg visited her at The Lookout and Janine brought Beth and Sky home after school. It’s true! He backed off in Janine’s presence. However, Cara suspects it was not so much to do with her friend’s size and powerful charisma but more to do with keeping himself at a distance from the locals.
‘Poor Greg.’
‘Why poor?’ Janine asks, loading her fork with cake. ‘When I look at him the word “poor” doesn’t spring to mind!’
‘His wife’s just died. She had cancer. That’s why they visited the cove in the first place, for her recuperation… or so they’d hoped.’
‘Oh, that’s tough.’ Janine pops the cake into her mouth.
‘I wonder what he’ll do now,’ Cara says quietly, a small frown settling on her brow.
Janine considers her neighbour. She witnessed the devastating effect Christo’s tragic death had on her dear friend, and then the all-consuming love affair with Oliver that ended so suddenly, followed by the birth of their love child without the actor being there. She also knows Greg would find any excuse to hang around Cara whenever he was in the cove.
‘He is very attractive, in an older man sort of way,’ she says cautiously.
Cara nods her head.
‘And he has plenty of money.’
Cara gives her friend a questioning look. ‘What exactly are you suggesting, Janine?’
‘Nothing really,’ Janine says airily, ‘just… Well, you know, life’s short and he inhabits the same world as you. He could provide you and your family with a wonderful life.’
‘Janine! He’s only just lost his wife!’ Cara scolds.
‘I know. I’m just saying.’ Janine gives a small smile before adding, ‘You know he’s really keen on you.’
‘I do not!’ Cara exclaims.
‘Oh, I think you do, Cara Penhaligon. The fuss he’s made of you ever since he first discovered your talent, and the way he guided you through all the press nonsense surrounding that prize you won. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight!’
Cara frowns again.
‘And, let’s face it, Cara. Most men would run a mile from a woman who had a baby by another man, but Toby doesn’t seem to have made a bit of difference.’
Cara considers Janine’s words. She’s right. Having supported her through the excitement of winning the Threadneedle Prize, Greg kept in touch throughout her pregnancy and beyond. His attention never waned. She remembers the first day she saw him, walking a dog on the beach in the most atrocious weather. He clocked her watching him from her studio window and acknowledged her. Her first impressions were that he was not only attractive – in an older man, Richard Gere sort of way – but also sophisticated and a league away. However, through their professional relationship the distance between them has lessened. He has pointed her in the right direction and introduced her to influential people in the art world, and she now considers him a true mentor.
‘What are you thinking?’ asks Janine.
‘Nothing of importance,’ Cara says a little too quickly.
‘Well, I think nothing of importance could grow into something very much of importance, if that’s what you want,’ says Janine, rising from her chair as the entrance door opens.
Jim walks in. ‘I’m ready to hang those signs now,’ he says, looking over at Cara and Toby, asleep in her lap. He smiles.
‘Here they are,’ says Janine, picking up the signs off a neighbouring table. ‘I’ll hold the ladder for you.’
As Janine disappears with Jim, Cara contemplates what her friend has said. She’s never really considered Greg in that light. Oh, yes, he kisses her at every given opportunity, but it doesn’t mean a thing. It’s just his way. But now, after Janine’s comments, she wonders if there is something to the way Greg handles her. And then she remembers the way he looked at her – in this very café – the first time they officially met. So much has happened since, she had forgotten the look that suggested a different time and place.
Cara’s face flushes and her frown deepens.
Four
‘So, what do you think?’ The woman’s voice is bright and full of hope.
‘A good script, Sabrina, but, as you know, for the foreseeable future I’m out of action and concentrating on home life.’
‘Are you sure, Ollie?’ He can hear his agent tapping a pen on her desk. ‘It’s a fabulous role.’