by Ali McNamara
‘How’s it going?’ I ask.
‘Good, good. I’m nearly done here. I’ll go upstairs in a minute and get the barbecue going if that’s okay with you?’
‘Sure, I won’t be long. I’ll go to the bakery and if they don’t have any bread I’ll try the supermarket.’
‘Great, see you in a bit.’
I leave Noah at the cottage and head towards the bakery, surprised at how much I’m looking forward to this impromptu barbecue with him. I hadn’t really had any particular plans for this evening and the thought of hanging out together was a very pleasant one indeed. As I hurry along Harbour Street I’m relieved to see the bakery is still open, even though their pavement sign has already been taken in.
‘Hello!’ I call, popping my head around the door of the empty shop. ‘Anyone home?’
Ant appears from the back. ‘Well, good evening, young lady, you’re a bit late today, aren’t you? We’re just about to shut up for the night.’
‘Yeah, sorry. I just wondered if you had any bread left? It’s a bit of an emergency.’
Noah barbecuing mackerel could hardly be classed as an emergency, but in the bread sense it was.
Ant doesn’t seem fazed though. ‘Any type in particular?’
‘Something to go with barbecued mackerel if you have it?’
‘Nice. Hold on just a minute, I’ll see what we have.’
Ant disappears out back again, and returns a few seconds later with a wholegrain bloomer and a crusty French stick. ‘Any good?’ he asks, waving them at me like flags.
‘Perfect, thank you. How much?’
‘On the house, lovely. They’ll only go to waste otherwise. We haven’t got all that much left today – a couple of loaves for us to take home, that’s all. We don’t often have a surplus, but if we do we take it to the old folks’ home up the road.’
‘That’s good of you.’
‘You have to do your bit, don’t you. So, what’s the occasion?’ Ant asks, wrapping my loaves in white paper. ‘Solo barbecue, is it?’ He asks this question innocently but glances up at me with mischief in his eyes.
‘No, I have a guest…’ I reply, with just enough mystery to pique his interest.
‘Let me guess, would that be our local antiques dealer by any chance?’
‘It would! How did you know?’
‘Ah, news – well, gossip – doesn’t take long to travel here in St Felix. I hear you went to an auction together the other day too?’ He raises his dark eyebrows suggestively.
‘Yes, but that was to do with my missing postcards,’ I protest.
‘And did you find them?’
‘We did actually.’
‘Wonderful, and did you speak to our Lou?’
I shake my head. ‘No, I didn’t want to disturb her. I know she’s really busy helping Poppy and Jake right now.’
‘She is that. Bonny baby, though – have you seen her?’
‘I have, out with Jake. Very pretty.’
‘Jake, or the baby?’ Ant winks. ‘Talking of local hunks… back to this blossoming romance of yours…’
‘No such thing!’ I grin. ‘Now, you’re sure I don’t owe you anything for the bread?’
‘Nope. You can just owe me the first dibs on any gossip, okay? I want to be the first to know when you two go official, so I can spread the news accordingly.’
I shake my head. ‘You’ll be waiting a long time then! Thanks for this’ – I tap one of the loaves of bread – ‘very generous of you.’
‘Any time!’ Ant calls, as I leave the shop. ‘Enjoy your evening!’
I head back the way I came but not before I’ve detoured via the supermarket. I grab some salad bits – coleslaw, tomatoes – and, at the last minute, a bottle of Pinot Grigio that’s on offer by the till. Then I walk back through the town to Snowdrop Cottage.
‘I’m back!’ I call, as I stash my salad in the fridge and wine in the freezer so it chills super-fast, and then leave the bread on the kitchen table. But there’s no reply, so I climb the stairs and wander over to the now closed French windows, where I find a very chilled Noah sitting out on the balcony next to a smoking barbecue placed safely on two upturned terracotta flowerpots.
He waves, so I pull open one of the glass doors.
‘Sorry, I had to close them up,’ he says. ‘I didn’t want any smoke to blow back inside your house. Luckily for us, though, the wind is blowing in just the right direction to take the majority of it away from us. How was your shopping trip?’
‘Good. I got everything we should need.’
‘Great. I’m just about to put the mackerel on so everything is looking rosy.’ He smiles.
‘I’ve only just put the wine in the freezer, but it should chill quite quickly in there. I’ll prepare the salad while you get the fish going and we’ll meet back here for wine in a few minutes, shall we?’
By the time I head back upstairs to the balcony carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket that I found at the back of one of the kitchen cupboards, the barbecue is well under way.
‘It smells amazing,’ I say, putting the ice bucket and glasses down on the small wrought-iron table. I sit down on the second of a pair of matching chairs at the opposite end of the small balcony to where Noah is cooking.
‘Don’t they?’ Noah agrees. ‘Nothing beats fresh mackerel cooked out in the open like this. Especially when you’re sharing it with good company too.’
‘And good wine,’ I say, feeling the need to deflect his compliment. ‘Well, I can’t guarantee it’s good, but at least it’s chilled. Would you like some?’
‘Please.’
I half fill the large glasses with wine.
‘This is a very well-equipped property,’ Noah says, holding his glass up to the light to examine the contents. ‘Decent size wine glasses and an ice bucket – what more could you want?’ He swirls the wine around in the base of the glass before tasting it. ‘Very nice.’
Shirking all the wine formalities, I take a sizeable gulp from my glass.
‘Yeah, not bad for a supermarket.’
‘I see you’ve put your new housemate in pride of place,’ Noah says, looking in through the French windows. ‘He looks right at home on the sofa there.’
‘Yes,’ I agree, looking at the old bear we’d brought back from the auction. ‘He’s quite cute, isn’t he?’
‘Does he have a name yet?’
‘No, I just call him “Bear”. I’m thinking he’ll be a nice mascot in the camper van when it’s finished, though.’
Noah nods.
‘Although, if you think he might be valuable I’d be happy to give him to you. As a little thank you for all you’ve done.’
‘No, don’t be silly. He’s yours now – you won him fair and square.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Absolutely. So how is the camper van coming along?’
‘She’s coming along really well… I think so anyway. And Malachi seems pleased with the progress he’s making.’
‘I haven’t come across this Malachi yet. Does he ever leave that garage?’
‘Yes, he actually lives in his own camper van, called Pegasus of all things!’ I find myself smiling as I think about Malachi. ‘You might have seen that around – it’s green and cream, and he also has a golden Labrador called Ralph. I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into him walking Ralph when you’ve been out with Clarice. I’m guessing there aren’t that many places to walk dogs around here.’
Noah shakes his head. ‘Nope, doesn’t ring any bells. What does he look like? I couldn’t really see him properly when we were in the pub the other night.’
‘He’s tall, about your height, I guess. He has dark curly hair and green eyes, but not your usual pale green – his are a really bright green. Erm… he’s pale skinned, but he has little freckles. He dresses very casually – jeans mostly, quite often ripped, and he wears T-shirts with motifs on the front like rock bands and stuff. He’s quite muscly too,�
� I say, happy to think about Malachi’s arms once more. ‘Not muscly like a body builder, just very fit, you know?’
There’s silence.
I pull myself from my very pleasant reverie to find Noah tending to the fish on the barbecue. ‘Oh, and he’s Irish,’ I finish. ‘But he’s from the north, not the south, I think… Either that or somewhere close to the border – his accent is neither one nor the other.’
Noah glances up at me from his position bent over the barbecue. ‘Sounds like you’ve got to know this Malachi very well indeed if you can give that detailed a description of him. In my experience most people are usually much vaguer when it comes to describing someone they hardly know.’ Noah re-folds the tin foil around the mackerel once more. ‘Almost ready,’ he announces, giving me the briefest of glances. He sits back up on his chair and reaches for his wine again, then he takes a long slow sip.
‘Do you mean in your experience of taking witness statements?’ I offer, wondering if something is wrong. He’s gone very quiet all of a sudden.
‘Yes, exactly that.’
I look over the balcony at the view. The sun isn’t quite ready to set, yet it’s still managing to impart a warm golden glow to not only the sky but the sand and sea down below us as we sit in silence on the balcony.
Has reminding Noah of his time in the police force offended him in some way?
‘You don’t like talking about your time in the police, do you?’ I ask bluntly. There was no point tiptoeing around it – Noah was making it very clear.
‘Not really, no.’
‘Okay then, I won’t ask any more about it.’ I stand up. Even though we were outside, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. ‘I’ll go and fetch the rest of the food from downstairs if you think the fish might be ready soon.’
‘Can I help?’ Noah asks, obviously sensing the tension in my voice. He stands up as I pull open the door, looking concerned.
‘No,’ I reply curtly. ‘I’ll be just fine, thank you.’
Well, that was awkward, I think, as I load a tray up in the kitchen with everything we might need. It wasn’t like I was trying to be nosy asking about the police, just making conversation. I’d given a detailed description of Malachi because he was so easy to describe and he was such a character, plus it was easy to describe someone you liked and found attractive…
I clap my hand over my mouth.
I don’t know if I’m more shocked at the realisation that I do indeed find Malachi very attractive, or that I think I might know why Noah had gone all cool with me upstairs.
It wasn’t reminding him of the police force that Noah had found annoying, his annoyance had come from the fact I was attracted to Malachi.
Could it be that Noah was jealous?
Twenty-Five
I climb back up the stairs with the tray piled high with plates, cutlery, a breadboard and the rest of the food, wondering if I’m imagining things.
Noah wouldn’t really be jealous of Malachi, would he? Surely not. No, I must have been right in the first place, it must be the police thing. And anyway, he had nothing to be jealous of – Malachi and I were just friends.
As I reach the French windows, Noah jumps up from his chair to open the door for me, then he insists on taking the tray and putting it on the table next to the ice bucket.
‘I re-filled your wine while you were downstairs,’ he explains eagerly. ‘I hope that’s all right?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘And the mackerel is finally done!’ He smiles at me and I smile back, glad everything seems back to normal between us again.
‘Great. Let’s eat then.’
Yes, I’d definitely got the wrong end of the stick downstairs. Noah seemed a lot happier now. Maybe I’d just read his mood wrongly? After all, I didn’t really know him all that well.
We chat while we eat, but only about neutral things like the weather and Noah’s customers that day, and as quickly as the mackerel disappears so does the wine.
Noah pours our last two glasses and puts the empty bottle back in the ice bucket.
‘You were right about that mackerel,’ I tell him, as I take my glass and lean back in my seat, with the comfortable drowsiness that often follows a good meal and plenty of alcohol just starting to overcome me. ‘It was delicious. Thank you for cooking it.’
‘My pleasure…’ Noah begins, then he grimaces. ‘Ana, at the risk of ruining things again, I have to say it – I’m so sorry if I put a damper on things earlier. It’s been such a lovely evening and I do apologise if I spoilt things before.’
‘Don’t be silly, Noah, it’s fine,’ I reply, shrugging it off. ‘I totally understand there are things that you’d rather keep private.’
‘Thank you. I don’t like to talk about my time in the police, you’re right. I find it very difficult, very difficult indeed.’
I knew I’d got it wrong. Jealous! As if, Ana! I berate myself. You’re not in some rom-com movie here. This is real life.
Noah looks hesitant, but continues when I don’t immediately say anything. ‘You see, it’s like that was another me. That me feels like a different person from the one I am now, and I don’t recognise him any more. Does that sound weird?’
‘No, not at all,’ I assure him. Now I know exactly where he’s coming from, I feel myself physically relax. ‘I feel a bit like that about Daisy. We were together for so long as a pair that now she’s not here any more, I feel that I’m not really me without her.’
Noah nods, but sensing there might be more, waits for me to continue.
‘Even after she met her husband we’d still go out with each other all the time,’ I tell him, ‘and we’d talk on the phone nearly every day. Now there’s just this huge void in my life and I don’t know how to replace it, or even if I want to. Something has been taken from my life I’ll never ever get back, and I don’t know how to continue living my life without Daisy in it.’
I gasp for air like I’ve just emerged from under water. Where had that all come from? I’ve never told anyone before that’s how I felt about Daisy. Until I’d heard the words coming from my mouth to Noah, I wasn’t even sure I knew that’s how I felt. Now here I was sitting with not exactly a stranger, but with someone I didn’t know all that well, and I was telling him exactly how I was feeling, and how I’d felt every day since Daisy died.
Noah nods empathetically. ‘I completely understand. Truly I do. When something is a part of your life for so long, a very important part of your life, to even try to imagine a life without that thing or that person in it seems impossible. Believe me, I’ve been there.’
‘So how did you get through it? I assume you have – you’re talking about it as though it’s in your past?’
‘It is… mostly. How did I get over it?’ Noah smiles ruefully. ‘I came here to St Felix and I started a new life running an antiques shop. This is my life now. The old one sometimes feels like it never happened at all, but I know it did. However much I try to block it out of here’ – he taps his forehead – ‘I still feel it in here.’ He puts his hand on his chest.
I desperately want to ask him what it was he was trying to block out. It was clear from what he was saying that Noah didn’t leave the police on good terms, and that whatever happened to him changed him considerably. Sensibly, this time I keep my questions to myself.
‘People have told me that St Felix is a good place for fresh starts,’ I tell him, ‘and it obviously worked well for you.’
‘Yes, I suppose it did. Maybe it will help you too?’
‘But I’m only here for a while, then I’ll be moving on. My stay is temporary. I can’t see St Felix healing all my wounds in a few weeks.’
Noah’s optimistic expression fades. ‘Perhaps a few weeks is all it will take for you?’ He takes a slow sip from his glass and glances out at the ever reddening sky.
‘Perhaps. I doubt it, though. I’ve a feeling it’s going to take more than a quick holiday in Cornwall to heal all my wounds.’
‘Do you feel like you’ve been brought here for a reason?’ Noah asks suddenly, turning back to face me.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, it always seemed odd to me that I left the force having absolutely no idea what I was going to do next, or where I should go to do it. I was in a bad place, Ana, really I was. I was totally lost.’
Again, he doesn’t enlighten me as to why.
‘And then my aunt,’ he continues, ‘who had had perfect health all her life, suddenly with no warning dies peacefully in her sleep and leaves the shop to me in her will. I’m not sure what would have happened to me if that hadn’t occurred. At first, I wasn’t keen on leaving London and coming here, as you can imagine. The last thing I wanted to do was leave everything I knew and start again in a remote Cornish seaside town where I’d holidayed as a child, but now I know it’s what saved me.’