Panting, Sara stopped waving her arms, aware of how ridiculous she must look, and tugged down her T-shirt, which had ridden up from the waistband of her jeans. Hector jumped towards the car, barking, and she lunged forward to clip the lead on to his collar.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said breathlessly, as the driver opened his door. ‘It’s just so few cars come round here, I really ought to keep him on a lead, I know . . .’
‘No worries,’ he said, stepping out of the car, and walking round to look down at his front bumper. ‘Another dent to add to my impressive collection. Are you OK?’ He looked more closely at her and then laughed. ‘Oh – it’s you.’
Sara smiled. ‘I’m sorry, I do seem to be something of a liability at the moment. I’m not normally as away with the fairies as this. I’m Sara, by the way.’
Smiling, he took her outstretched hand. ‘Ricky. And this is . . .’ He gestured at Hector, who was standing between them, feet firmly planted on the ground, back arched, his face a mask of aggressive masculine protection.
‘This is Hector.’ She stroked her hand over his neck, feeling the ridged hackles.
‘Hector. Cool.’
‘Were you . . .’
‘I . . .’
‘No, you go on.’ She smiled. ‘Are you heading to the beach? It’s just that the road doesn’t lead anywhere, we don’t normally meet . . .’
‘I’m going surfing,’ he said, jerking his head at the board. ‘It’s pretty good in the cove, the tide’s about right now. The best beaches are up in the north, but I don’t have the time to get there at the moment. Most of my friends surf up there, but I’m happy here, I like to get out on the water alone.’
Sara looked at him, surprised. It was an odd thing to say. ‘It must be hard to find time, with work . . .’
‘Yeah.’ He stood for a moment, one hand on the open car door, looking at her. He seemed quite comfortable with the silence, giving no hint of embarrassment or unease. His long dark hair was caught behind his head in a ponytail, and he was wearing a baggy orange T-shirt over a black wetsuit which had a lime green stripe down the side of each leg. His feet were bare.
‘Do you live round here?’
‘Yes – at the white cottage above the cove. I moved in a few months ago.’
For a moment, he looked shocked. Then he recovered himself. ‘I heard someone had bought the place,’ he said coolly. There was a curious expression on his face, one she could not fathom, as if he was weighing up whether to say something and deciding against it. ‘Normally I surf here a lot, but I’ve been so busy . . .’ His words tailed off.
When she had met him before, she would have described him as a confident happy-go-lucky kind of person. But today there was a thoughtfulness, a sense of melancholy in the curve of his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You’re lucky. It’s a great place to live. Amazing views.’
‘Oh, yes. I love it. I’m about to start renovating, extending . . .’
‘Are you?’ His eyes registered a flash of intense interest, but then the expression was gone. ‘Well, hey,’ he said. ‘I’d better get going or I’ll lose the tide. No doubt I’ll see you around.’
‘No doubt. Nice to meet you – Ricky.’
‘You too.’ He held up his hand in a casual farewell, and then climbed back into the car, slamming the door.
Sara stepped back against the hedge as he drove past, and he raised his hand to her again without looking at her, his face thoughtful, a frown creasing his forehead.
‘You’ll never guess!’ Lottie met her at the door when she walked in ten minutes later.
‘I know,’ Sara smiled.
‘He’s here! Right now. In the cove. Come on.’ She took Sara’s hand and, pulling her mother forwards, they tiptoed across the front garden. Lottie peered over the wall at the stony beach below them. Sara stepped back. ‘Don’t,’ she said, lowering her voice, worried he might be able to hear them. ‘This is embarrassing, it looks as if we’re spying on him.’ Besides, she said to herself, he seemed to want to be alone. As if he had a lot of things to think about. He was, she decided, a far more complex and interesting person than she had first thought. Slightly older, too – possibly in his early thirties. Rather too old for Lottie, she decided.
‘Move back!’ Sara said, more sharply than she had intended.
‘Why? Hey, what’s eating you?’
Sara reached out and took hold of Lottie’s arm. ‘Come inside and I’ll tell you.’
Lottie took one last look at the beach. He was tying a rope from his surfboard to his wrist, staring out to sea. He clearly hadn’t heard them. Reluctantly, she followed her mother into the cottage.
‘So?’ she asked, when they were both in the kitchen.
‘I spoke to him. Just now, in the lane.’
‘And? Tell me everything. Every tiny little word.’
‘There’s not much to tell. I was daydreaming, and he nearly ran me over.’
‘Not again,’ Lottie groaned. ‘He’s going to think you’re bonkers, as if you have a death wish or something.’
‘He got out of the car to make sure I was OK – well, actually I think he wanted to make sure his car wasn’t too bashed up, as he hit the bank. And then we had a bit of a chat.’ She shrugged.
‘Yes? God, this is like trying to get blood out of a stone.’
‘His name’s Ricky. He does live in Lanteglos and . . .’ She sighed. ‘That’s about it.’
‘Oh, impressive, Mother. Full marks for interviewing skills. Is that really all you gleaned?’
For some reason, Sara felt rather protective of him. She didn’t want to reveal anything more – as if, well, as if she wanted to keep most of the details to herself. There had been something haunted, she thought, something decidedly odd in the way he’d reacted when she told him they were living at the cottage. There was something quite mysterious about him.
‘He seemed very nice,’ she added lamely.
‘Nice? Nice? He’s fucking gorgeous, that’s what he is.’
‘Don’t swear.’
‘Sorry. It’s just . . . oh, Mum, I am a bit bored and it would be so cool to talk to someone who has half a brain. Meet some new people. You’ve got la-la-loon Helen, but I haven’t made any friends yet. Couldn’t you have invited him here, for a cup of tea or something?’
‘He doesn’t look very much like the cup of tea type.’
‘You know what I mean. Get chatting, in the way that it’s OK for old people to do, invite him over. I can’t start chatting him up, he’ll know that I fancy him. I have to be aloof and mysterious. For a bit, at least.’
‘I’m not sure . . .’
‘What?’
‘I think he’s older than we first thought. Maybe thirty, thirty-one.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘Oh come on, Lottie, that’s way too old for you.’
‘I don’t want to marry him,’ she said crossly. ‘I just would like to go out at night and have some fun.’
Sara smiled. ‘I thought you wanted to marry him, you really liked him . . .’ She sang.
Lottie put her hands over her ears. ‘Do not, ever, sing. God, you are completely tone deaf. I am severely disappointed in you. This was a golden opportunity.’
Sara turned around and switched on the kettle.
‘Are you so very bored?’ she said. The thought made her feel rather hurt.
Lottie shrugged. ‘A bit, Mum, even you can see there’s not a lot for a twenty-year-old to do round here, is there? I mean, it’s fun to like plan what to do with the house but I really miss my friends, even vile Emily . . .’ She sighed. ‘I think I do need to get out more. Would it look too obvious if I went for a walk on the beach?’
‘Yes. Leave the poor man alone.’
‘I could say I was rock-pooling or looking for shells.’
‘You are not,’ Sara pointed out, ‘ten years old.’
‘Walking the dog?’
They both looked at Hector, who
at the word ‘walk’, began to back away.
‘You’d need castors to get him out again today,’ Sara said, laughing.
‘Come on,’ Lottie said, ‘Let’s sit outside. We can move the table away from the wall,’ she added hastily. ‘Not that I can understand why it’s such a big deal. He might be desperate to meet me, have you thought of that? He might be lonely, too.’
Hector followed them out and flopped down, before rolling over to rub his back on the warm grass, his stomach rising and falling with exhaustion, pink tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth. He grinned up at them from his upside down position, wagging his tail when Lottie reached down to rub his tummy.
Sitting up, she stretched her long slim tanned legs out in front of her. ‘If I say it myself, I am looking pretty damn brown. I must paint my toenails,’ she added, peering at her feet. ‘Can I borrow your red varnish?’
‘Of course.’
Lottie looked up at the cloudless sky. ‘I didn’t mean to moan,’ she said, turning to smile at her mother. ‘I do love it here, you know.’
‘I know.’ Sara rolled her head around on her neck, hearing a click. ‘Gosh, I’m stiff. You’re right, though, we do need to meet more people, get on with things. It’s been fun just mooching about, but I think now is the time to take positive steps forward. I must ring up the council about the planning permission, and I need to actually do something about getting a job. As do you.’
Lottie looked at her sharply. ‘What?’
‘You need to get a job and earn some money,’ Sara said firmly. ‘You’ve got ages before university and you’re not just floating about here all summer doing nothing. You need to pull your weight financially.’
Lottie closed her eyes tragically. ‘Dad will give me some money.’
‘Lottie!’
Lottie’s eyes flew open. ‘What’s so wrong with that?’
‘Everything. You cannot rely on Dad as a meal ticket.’
Lottie raised an eyebrow at her. Sara held up her hand. ‘I know. I know. Which is precisely why I feel so strongly about it. I was wrong, Lottie, not to earn my own money. If you live off someone else, it makes you too vulnerable. You always need to be able to stand on your own two feet.’
‘Women’s lib, coming from my mother.’ Lottie laughed, raising her face to the sun.
‘I didn’t think anyone used that term anymore. But yes, I mean it. Women should not depend on men.’
‘Do you feel bitter?’ Lottie turned to look curiously at her.
Sara shrugged. ‘I did. But I’m not sure I do now. More than anything, I feel, well, excited about the future.’
‘Weird that Dad buggering off with someone else has made you stand on your own two feet.’
‘Thanks. So delicately phrased. It was a savage kind of way to have to change my life, but it’s done me good, yes. I was far too complacent.’
‘Could you see Dad here?’
Sara laughed. ‘Could you?’
‘No. No way.’
‘This is mine,’ Sara said. ‘And I like it that way.’
‘When did you last speak to Em?’
‘A couple of weeks ago.’ A look of gloom passed over Sara’s face.
‘You two have got to make it up,’ Lottie pointed out.
‘We haven’t exactly fallen out,’ Sara said slowly. ‘It’s more unspoken, I suppose . . . she seems to think that moving here was unjustified and I think she’s still angry with me for leaving London. And she . . .’
‘Sides with Dad,’ Lottie finished off for her. ‘She’s still living at home most of the time with him, you know. I don’t know why she bothers to keep that flat. I bet Dad’s paying the rent too, she’s such a jammy git.’
‘They were always close,’ Sara said. ‘Very similar, in lots of ways.’
‘Yup,’ Lottie said, watching a gull wheel overhead. ‘He always loved her much more than me,’ she added, in a calm, factual voice.
‘No!’ Sara said, shocked, although she knew this was true. ‘He loves you both the same.’
‘That’s bollocks, and you know it, Mum. It doesn’t matter. I came to terms with it ages ago. He thinks I’m a wimp. Not brave and feisty like Em. I don’t stand up to him like she does. You know, in lots of ways Dad . . . he isn’t always right, is he? It was like at home we were always made to think that he was right and we had to listen to him, and you used to defer to him all the time. Well, now I know he isn’t perfect. He’s a very selfish man.’ She shrugged, her mouth turned down at the corner. ‘I don’t know how to talk to him. I can’t think of anything to say. When he rings we’re like really hesitant with each other and we can’t talk about anything real, it’s all just platitudes, how are you, what’s the weather like, how’s work? It is quite freaky. It’s like not having a real dad.’
‘Maybe you should go and stay with him for a while. Build bridges.’
‘But you need me here,’ Lottie said.
‘No I don’t. Not all the time. I mean, I love having you here but you mustn’t feel you can’t go off . . .’
‘I know. I’ll plan a holiday, go and see some mates.’
‘And get a job. You could work in Fowey, there are lots of cafés and shops which must have holiday work.’
‘Nag, nag.’ Lottie grinned and reached over to touch Sara’s arm. ‘But I can’t leave you,’ she said, peering into her mother’s eyes. ‘You need me here as spiritual support.’
‘Feck off,’ Sara said.
‘Mother! You swore!’
‘Not technically. Anyway,’ Sara said, turning her own face to the sun. ‘I’m all better now. I think I can just about manage without you for a few days.’
Sara was tidying up the kitchen when Lottie wandered in half an hour later, her arms full of washing. ‘I just spoke to Em on her mobile,’ she muttered through the clothes, which she then dumped on the floor in front of the washing machine.
‘And?’
‘I’ve arranged to see her on Wednesday. She said what about having lunch with Dad too, and I said OK. Is that cool with you? Look, Mum, why don’t you come? Please? You’ve got to see Em, it’s getting weird. And maybe Dad too. I would like to see him, actually. We have got to be adult about this,’ she added.
Sara laughed, bending down to begin stuffing the clothes into the machine, noting that Matt’s old cashmere jumper was in the middle of Lottie’s pile of washing. She lifted it out, and put it on top of the machine ready for hand-washing. ‘Lots, do be careful. I know this is old and full of holes, but you’ll ruin it if it goes on too hot a wash.’
‘Never mind that,’ Lottie said, impatiently. ‘Will you come with me? I think Em really misses you, although she’d never say it.’
Sara straightened up, her face creased with thought. It did worry her a great deal that she hadn’t seen Emily since moving to Cornwall, and whenever she rang to ask Emily to come down, there was always a reason why she couldn’t come. She seemed so involved in her new job, her life in London with her friends, and with Matt. With Matt and possibly Karina? Now that was an odd thought. She could not imagine Emily taking kindly at all to another woman in her father’s life, let alone one practically her age.
‘Does she see, um . . .’ Sara clicked the machine door shut and began to pour in the washing powder. She noticed that Lottie had previously filled the wrong tray, she’d have to clear it out – how very annoying. Lottie was so careless.
‘Karina?’ Lottie said. ‘Yes. She doesn’t like her at all.’
‘Dad’s girlfriend,’ Sara mused. ‘What a bizarre concept.’
‘What do we call her? Girlfriend? Partner?’
‘She’s not really old enough to be a partner,’ Sara said. ‘More like a ward, really.’
Lottie snorted. ‘You’re not acting at all like you used to, you know. What with swearing and fancying younger men . . .’
‘I do not fancy younger men!’
Lottie raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh, really? So why are you so keen to warn me off
the lovely Ricky, then? “He’s far too old for you,”’ Lottie said, mimicking her mother’s voice. Sara picked up a sock which had sneaked away from the washing pile and threw it at her.
‘Rubbish. He may be too old for you, but he’s far too young for me. Besides, even though I feel much happier I am certainly not ready to begin dating.’
‘Thank God for that. I’m not sure I could cope with a mother with a sex life.’
‘Lottie!’
‘Well, it’s true.’
‘I promise I am not intending to rush off with anyone. So does Emily see them, together? Come on, I can cope, I’m a grown-up. I won’t tell her that you told me.’
‘Yes,’ said Lottie. ‘She does. Which I think must be beyond freaky.’
‘And is she – Karina – actually living with Dad? That must be very uncomfortable with Em there most of the time.’
‘This is like twenty questions. Do you want to know? Does it help?’
‘I’m not sure it helps, but yes, I think I do want to know.’
‘Well, she is, on and off. You know Dad’s got a buyer for the apartment? He says it’s too big for him now.’
So that’s probably why he is pushing for divorce, Sara thought. He wants to get our finances settled. How do I feel about our home being sold? She thought hard. Nothing. She felt nothing. This was home now.
‘Karina doesn’t live there all the time,’ Lottie continued. ‘I think she’s got a place of her own as well.’
‘Ah. And how does Emily feel about it?’
‘Livid,’ Lottie shrugged. ‘But there’s nothing she can do. I don’t think Karina is all that thrilled with Emily living at home either. I guess Dad’s caught in the middle of them, ha, ha. Serves him right. I get the impression that Emily might have met her match with Karina, you know. She’s just as tricky as she is. How weird for Dad, to have to try to keep the peace between his girlfriend and his daughter. Anyway, Mum, make a decision. You’re going to have to see Dad’s solicitor anyway and it’ll do you good to go to London. You need to see your friends. How long has it been since you saw Catherine? Em said she met her in Harvey Nicks the other day and she practically pinned her to the wall to get all the latest news about you.’
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