Staverton

by Caidan Trubel

  He moved closer to take a look.

  “I used to love rock pools when I was a kid,” he said. “Especially crabs. Did you see any?”

  I shook my head.

  He ran his hand back and forth through his hair, flicking drops of water over me.

  “Hey,” I protested.

  He grinned at me and tilted his head to one side. His eyes glinted dangerously. “You’re almost dry, Lucy. Maybe you’d like a hug?”

  He held out his arms, playfully, water dripping from him, and I ducked away. “No.”

  He chuckled. “Just a quick hug.”

  I took a couple of steps backwards, not paying attention to where I was putting my feet. My left foot slipped against the wet rock, and the next thing I knew, I was falling backwards.

  I heard Michael mutter a curse, then I hit the water. The cold was such a shock. I involuntarily gasped and swallowed some of the salt water.

  I broke the surface coughing and spluttering.

  There was a splash as Michael dived, and by the time I looked around, he was beside me. I felt his arms encircle my waist.

  “Are you all right?” Michael whispered.

  He had one arm around me, pulling me to him, while the fingers of his other hand brushed my hair back from my face.

  I managed to nod. I should have pulled away and laughed it off, but I couldn’t. I was mesmerised.

  Looking up into his anxious eyes, I saw his concern. Then my gaze travelled down to his mouth. I imagined what it would feel like to press my lips to his. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me, but he didn’t move.

  His breathing seemed deeper, and I looked up again. The anxious look in his eyes had been replaced by longing. We were so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

  I held my breath.

  Then, suddenly, the spell was broken. Michael took a deep breath then created some distance between us.

  “Are you sure you’re all right? I was only teasing.” His eyes were playful again, and I wondered if I imagined he wanted to kiss me.

  “I’m fine,” I said, dizzy from the change in his mood.

  “Will you be okay to swim back?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the beach.

  “I think so.”

  “Here,” he said and put my hands on his shoulders and winked at me. “I’ll give you a lift. It’s the least I can do after scaring you.”

  “I wasn’t scared. I just lost my footing.”

  “Ah, another woman throwing herself at my feet. I understand. It happens all the time,” he teased and started to swim for shore.

  With my hands on his shoulders, I could feel his muscles work beneath my fingers. I let out a shaky breath, glad I didn’t have to swim back alone. I felt light-headed, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was down to my fall.

  When we were out of the water, towelling ourselves off, I started to feel more like myself. I pulled my sundress over my damp swimming costume, and ran my hands through my hair in a futile attempt to untangle it.

  “What’s the time?” I asked Michael after spotting his watch on the sand.

  “Three-thirty.”

  “I think I’ll walk back up to the house. Caroline’s lesson will be over soon.”

  Michael fell into step beside me, chatting easily. He was definitely in a better mood today. After I told him I would be studying the history of art at St. Andrews in the autumn, he said something that made my heart skip a beat. I thought I was hearing things.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Our Degas. I guess Caroline hasn’t shown you.”

  “A Degas,” I repeated, astounded. “You have a genuine Degas at Staverton?”

  Michael grinned. “A tiny one. It’s in the study. I’ll show you.”

  He grasped my hand and pulled me along as we crossed the lawn to the house. I was already slightly breathless from walking up the cliff path, and I tried to slow my breathing.

  Michael still had hold of my hand as we entered the house, through the French doors.

  We met Angela in the hallway.

  “I’m showing Lucy the Degas,” Michael said, striding past her as he pulled me along behind him.

  Angela smiled, but as her gaze dropped to our linked hands, her expression cooled. Under her disapproving glare, I gently slipped my hand from Michael’s grasp.

  Inside the study, the air was cool. As I entered, I was distracted by the large, mahogany desk. In the daylight, the atmosphere didn’t feel menacing at all. It was hard to believe Gwen and Jake had been in here, on that very desk...

  “So what do you think?” Michael asked.

  I looked at the sketch on the wall in front of him. It was exquisite. Degas had captured a ballerina in the fifth position. Every detail was crystal clear, the frills on the dancer’s dress, the expression on her face...

  “It’s breathtaking,” I said. “There’s so much detail in such a tiny sketch.”

  Fascinated, I moved closer for a better look. After a moment, I turned to Michael and saw he was staring at me intently.

  “There you are,” Caroline said, entering the study. “What on earth are you doing in here?”

  “I was showing Lucy the Degas,” Michael said.

  “Oh,” Caroline said, looking unimpressed. She linked her arm through mine. “Come on, let’s do something fun. That two-hour piano lesson has made me feel like my brain’s about to explode.”

  ***

  Michael didn’t stay at Staverton for dinner that night, so the following day, I was anxious to see him again. After Caroline was summoned for her lesson, I sat on the beach, looking up at the cliff path, but he didn’t show up. Feeling sorry for myself, I walked along the beach, stopping every now and then to pick up pretty shells. I was so intent on examining a delicate, pearly, pink shell, I didn’t notice Gwen until she was only a few feet away.

  Perfectly made up as always, Gwen wore a fifties-style tea dress and carried her gold sandals in one hand. Gwen invited me back to her house for a cold drink. I knew Caroline would be annoyed if I accepted the offer, but my curiosity made me accept. I wanted to know more about Gwen, and I still believed Jake and Gwen had been together that night.

  I didn’t expect Gwen to break down and confess, but I did think I might find out something.

  Malcolm and Gwen’s house was more modern than Staverton, and not as large, but still luxurious.

  Gwen led me into the kitchen, stopping briefly to dust the sand from the soles of her feet.

  “Would you like a juice? I make my own.”

  I turned in a circle, taking in the kitchen. Gleaming pots and pans hung above the cooker, and the kitchen surfaces were lined with shiny stainless steel gadgets. “You make it yourself?”

  “With this.” Gwen patted a metal and black contraption. “You stick the fruit in here.” Gwen took off the black lid and pointed down a tube. “Then the juice comes out here.” She slid a glass under the nozzle. “How about apple juice?”

  While Gwen chopped up the fruit with a sharp knife, I watched her with surprise. I hadn’t pictured Gwen as a domestic goddess, but here she was making her own apple juice, rather than buying a carton at the supermarket.

  “I didn’t think you’d be the domestic type,” I said, looking at a shelf of recipe books.

  Gwen shrugged. “I like it. It gives me something to do during the day when Malcolm is at work.”

  Gwen dumped the diced apple into the machine, pressed the switch, which produced a grinding noise, and cloudy apple juice spurted out of the nozzle. Gwen dropped a couple of ice cubes in the glass and handed it to me. “What do you think?”

  I took a sip. It was sharp and refreshing. “Lovely, thanks.”

  We took our drinks out to the terrace.

  “I envy you,” I said. “Look at that view.” I nodded towards the sea.

  Gwen smiled. “It is lovely.”

  I sensed there was a but attached to that sentence. “Do you miss home? America, I mean.”


  “A little.” Gwen shrugged. We drank the juice in silence for a few moments, before Gwen turned to me. “Caroline doesn’t approve of me. You might want to avoid telling her you came here today.”

  I frowned. “She won’t mind.”

  Gwen raised an eyebrow. “When Malcolm and I first came here, I tried to be friendly, but she wasn’t interested. I guess it’s a weird situation. I’m not that much older than you and Caroline, but Malcolm is the same age as her parents.”

  I said nothing, but watched Gwen trail a finger through the beads of condensation on her glass. Of course, I had noticed the age difference, but I didn’t want to appear rude by making a comment. Finally I said, “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

  Gwen nodded. I tried to steer the conversation away from Caroline, and we talked about my plans for university.

  “I wish I’d gone,” Gwen said. “I was smart enough, even got offered a scholarship, but I met Malcolm... and then we moved here.”

  “You could still do it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. There are not many universities around here.”

  “What about a distance learning course?”

  Gwen turned the wedding ring on her finger and stared down at her lap. “I think I’ve left it too late. What would I study?”

  “There are loads of courses. There’s a website we could look at if you want.”

  Indecision played over Gwen’s face, then she broke into a smile. “Can’t hurt to look, right?”

  After that, every time Caroline had a piano lesson, I would walk to Gwen’s house. We looked up distance learning courses and made lists of the things Gwen was most interested in. On Friday, we made a start on Gwen’s application.

  The application form required a page written by the applicant, describing his or her skills and abilities. Gwen struggled to find the right words.

  “Look at this sentence,” Gwen said, thrusting the paper at me. “It makes me sound conceited.”

  I reread the whole paragraph. “No, it doesn’t. Besides, you are supposed to be selling yourself to them. You have to point out your strengths.”

  Gwen flung down her pen. “I didn’t realise it would be this hard.” She looked at her watch. “You’d better get back. Caroline’s lesson will be finished soon.”

  I hadn’t told Caroline about my trips to see Gwen. I did feel a bit guilty, but Caroline had been so moody lately, I didn’t want to set her off again.

  “I could stay and help you finish this.”

  “No. It’s all right. I’ll leave it until Monday. The closing date isn’t until Christmas, so I have loads of time to get it right.”

  Chapter 18

  The weekend surprise Angela planned for us was a sailing trip on Malcolm’s boat. Caroline had gotten over her mood, at least she had until she found out she would be stuck on a boat all day with Gwen and Malcolm.

  “What do you have against them?” I asked. “It’s nice of them to invite us.”

  We all gathered at the marina, and Caroline and I sat on a wall, a little apart from everyone else.

  “They are so boring, and Gwen’s going to be all over the men.” Caroline looked over her shoulder at the boat and sighed.

  The white boat gleamed in the morning sun, the metal rails were highly polished. Malcolm was on deck, dressed in a pair of shorts, long socks, a blue blazer and a funny little hat I guessed he wore to make him look like a captain. He rushed around the deck like a kid at Christmas, checking things and grinning.

  “He’s all right,” I said. “And we get to sunbathe on a yacht.”

  “It’s hardly a yacht.”

  “Oh come on, we can still sunbathe on deck, we can pretend it is a small yacht. Very St. Tropez.” I pulled a face to make Caroline laugh.

  Angela called us over to board. She climbed aboard first, followed by Lawrence and Michael. Jake hadn’t been able to come.

  Michael stood on deck and offered his hand to Caroline, and then to me to help us aboard. “Looks a little choppy today,” he said, and I looked down at the water. It looked perfectly calm to me.

  “I mean out there,” he said and nodded in the direction of the open sea.

  Malcolm used the engine to get the boat out of the harbour. The vibrations made me feel a bit queasy, so I sat down on the edge of one of the rails. I looked down at the sea as the boat cut its way through the waves, sunlight reflected from the water danced on the side of the boat.

  It was the perfect day for my first sailing trip. Everything looked so fresh and clean. I hoped I’d start to feel better after Malcolm cut the engines.

  Once we were away from the harbour mouth, Malcolm did turn off the engine, but I didn’t feel better, if anything, I started to feel worse. The boat lifted with each wave and then sank back, then lifted again. My stomach did the same thing. Up and down. There was no end to it.

  Everyone else seemed to have a job to do, bustling about, tying ropes, shouting to one another, even Caroline. I stayed in my original seat and lowered my head into my hands. I swallowed constantly, trying to fight the nausea.

  Despite his role as captain, Malcolm was the first to notice I wasn’t feeling well. He sat beside me as the wind whipped the boat along.

  “Oh dear, Lucy, you look like you’re suffering from a touch of sea sickness.”

  I nodded, I didn’t trust myself to speak as I could feel a lump in my throat.

  “It happens to the best of us. If you’re sick, just put your head over the side.”

  I looked up, mortified, imagining everyone watching me, hearing me retch, splattering the pristine white boat with vomit.

  He chuckled at my expression. “I used to get seasick as a boy. I was often sick, but I found I felt a bit better afterwards. I got my sea legs eventually, and you will too.”

  I focused on a spot on the rail in front of me, breathing deeply. “I feel terrible,” I managed to say.

  Malcolm patted me on the knee. “We’ll keep our speed down, that might help.”

  After Malcolm left my side, Caroline wandered over. “God, that woman is so annoying. Have you seen what she is wearing?”

  “Yeah.”

  When I boarded the boat and said hello to Gwen, I noticed what she was wearing: a tight white polo shirt and bottom skimming white shorts. To be fair, Caroline and I wore similar outfits, but with Gwen’s curves the clothes looked almost indecent.

  “You okay? You look pale.”

  I shook my head.

  “Great, you’re seasick, aren’t you?” She looked over the side of the boat. “It isn’t even all that rough today.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Well, we will be out another couple of hours before we stop at Maidenworth for lunch, then it will be another couple of hours back. Do you think you’ll last that long?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Caroline sighed and walked over to her mother.

  To my absolute horror, Michael came and crouched down in front of me. His hard features were softened with concern, but he was the last person I wanted to see. I must look green. Knowing my luck, I’d throw up all over his shoes.

  He put one hand on my shoulder and rubbed my back. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I don’t feel so good.”

  He pushed my hair back from my face. “Do you want to go back?”

  My stomach gave the answer. It churned violently, and I knew I was going to throw up. I moved away from him and leaned over the rail just in time, and I vomited over the side of the boat.

  I felt too awful to feel embarrassed at that point, but the humiliation didn’t stay away for long. I heard Angela mutter “Christ” behind me.

  Angela fussed over me, and when I didn’t feel in imminent danger of being sick again, I allowed Angela to lead me down into the galley of the boat.

  Angela made me lay back across two seats and placed a cool towel on my brow. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the rise and fall of the boat.

  Malcolm came down
the steps into the galley. “How’s the patient?”

  “Not too good,” Angela said.

  They discussed what to do as if I wasn’t there, which was fine by me. I needed all my energy focused on not vomiting again.

  A few minutes later, Angela was back at my side. “Another fifteen minutes, Lucy. We’re going to stop off at Chillington and get you back on dry land. Then the rest of them can continue on to Maidenworth, and I’ll get you back home.”

  “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to spoil your day. I could get the bus back.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m going to pop back on deck, will you be okay?”

  I nodded. I didn’t think there was anything left in my stomach now anyway.

  It may have only been fifteen minutes, but it felt like an hour before Caroline bounded down the stairs. “We’re here, Lucy.”

  Thank God. My head swam as I sat up, and my legs felt like jelly when I stood, but I made it up on deck.

  “Right then,” Angela said. “I’ll get Lucy home. Thank you for this morning, Malcolm.”

  I could see the hard floor of the marina. I walked closer to the rail and watched Malcolm secure the boat to the dock. I wanted to get off as quickly as possible. Michael seemed to sense that and took my hand and guided me off the boat and onto dry land.

  I could have knelt down and kissed the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, addressing them all. “I didn’t want to ruin your day. I’ll be fine now, you can carry on with your trip. I’ll get the bus.”

  “And I’ll go with you,” Caroline said.

  Angela frowned. “There isn’t a bus that goes to Staverton. There’s a bus that stops at the train station, but then you’d have to walk for miles to the house. It’s okay, we can come sailing another day.”

  “My bike’s parked up at the gallery,” Michael said. “I could catch the bus with Lucy to the train station and then take her back on the bike. That’s if you don’t mind motorbikes, Lucy?”

  “No, I don’t mind.”

  “Have you got a spare helmet?” Angela asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What about me?” Caroline said.

  Michael smiled. “Sorry, Caro. Don’t think three of us would fit on the bike.”