Sunny Days and Sea Breezes

by Carole Matthews

  Ida shrugs, but I can tell that she’s been concerned.

  ‘Is he around? He’s not at the boat.’

  ‘He took off shortly after you did, a good few weeks ago,’ she says. ‘Didn’t say where he was going. He isn’t answering texts. Twat. I’ve no idea what he’s up to.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It’s not the first time he’s done this. He buggers off for a while without telling anyone.’ Another shrug. ‘I’m not his keeper.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of him too.’

  ‘He’ll turn up in his own good time.’ She looks round at the counter. ‘I’d better go. This place is madness now.’

  ‘Perhaps the three of us could go out for a drink one night,’ I venture. ‘I’d like that.’

  Both George and Ida look rather more keen than I’d anticipated – though I’m not convinced that it’s the thought of my company that they’re enthralled with.

  ‘Yeah.’ Ida sounds as if she couldn’t care less whether we have a drink or not. ‘I’m around tomorrow night.’

  ‘Me too,’ George agrees quickly.

  ‘Tomorrow, then. Seven o’clock at The Jolly Roger?’

  ‘Christ, no. We avoid the place like the plague now it’s full of tourists. I’ll text you the name of a quiet bar where the locals go.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’

  ‘He’ll be back,’ she says over her shoulder as she goes to leave. ‘But you might have your work cut out trying to get him to trust you again.’

  ‘Things have changed since then.’

  She makes a huffing noise. ‘Try telling Ned that.’

  If only he were here, perhaps I could.

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  When I get back to Sunny Days, Marilyn has returned. Bill must have been on the phone to her as soon as I left. He’s such a good brother and I can’t thank him enough.

  The minute I walk through the door, my dear friend hugs me tightly to her fulsome breast.

  ‘You’ve lost weight,’ is the first thing she says – when I can assure you that I absolutely haven’t. ‘Good job I’ve brought you some shopping.’

  When she puts me down, I say, ‘I have missed you so much, Marilyn.’

  ‘My darling girl, I’ve missed you like the desert misses the sun.’

  I have to smile. Somethings don’t change, that’s for sure.

  ‘That husband of yours looked shifty. His eyes were too close together and he has a weak chin. I knew he wouldn’t make you happy.’

  I’m not sure that Chris suffers from either of these physical afflictions, but I’m not going to defend him. Marilyn’s right. He didn’t make me happy. And I didn’t make him happy either.

  I’ve heard nothing from him since leaving, but I hope that we’ll be able to sort out the sale of the flat amicably. If he wants to stay there, then I’m perfectly agreeable to that. We’ll probably mostly communicate now through solicitors which is sad, but it still doesn’t want to make me go back. I don’t feel like a failure. I feel like someone who has decided life is too short to spend it being unhappy.

  ‘Have you spoken to him next door yet?’ She nods towards Ned’s boat and her earrings jangle.

  I shake my head. ‘There’s no one home. I walked down to the Beach Hut and talked to Ida. She said that Ned’s gone away. He hasn’t been around for weeks.’

  ‘He’ll be back,’ Marilyn says with supreme confidence. ‘As sure as eggs are peas.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ But, whatever happens, I’m not going to mope around. I’m starting a new life on the Isle of Wight and I can’t wait.

  ‘You’re going to need coffee,’ Marilyn says. ‘I’ve got a lot to tell you.’ She searches through the pockets in her electric blue jumpsuit. ‘I’ve got a list, so I didn’t forget a thing.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ I answer with a laugh.

  ‘Strap yourself in!’

  So I sit at the table and stare out at the harbour while Marilyn clangs and bangs about with the kettle and some cups. I am going to be happy here. I know it.

  Chapter Ninety

  So what do I do for the next few weeks? I buy myself a second-hand runaround so that I’m mobile – it’s Peugeot something-or-another and is a vibrant shade of red that’s had Marilyn’s stamp of approval. I can nip round the island or hop on the ferry at will. I haven’t driven for years and it does feel weird to be behind the wheel again rather than jumping into a cab or onto the Tube.

  One of my first jaunts is to drive to the woods where Ned took me to his workshop. I park and enjoy a pleasant stroll through the surrounding meadows. It looks so different now. Grasses and wildflowers come up to my waist and there are butterflies in abundance, as he promised. As I walk, dozens of them flit round me, fearless and bold, as if I’m in a Disney movie. Then I go out to the peaceful salt marshes and sit alone in the quiet of a bird hide, watching the nesting black-headed and Mediterranean gulls feed their young and very demanding chicks. I miss Ned being here as he would have liked this.

  For Sunny Days, I order furniture online to kit out Bill’s spare bedroom as a serviceable office. Work is busy, so I’m pretty much occupied during the day. The eco-hotel project is gathering pace now and it’s all hands on deck. I’ve been over to the New Forest a few times to check on progress and I’ve even managed to meet Bill down there so he doesn’t think I’ve disappeared off the face of the earth. He’s coping quite well with my new working arrangements and, as promised, we Skype every day. My brother also keeps vowing to come out and see me, but hasn’t quite made it yet. Down at the hotel, the builders are getting on nicely – in fact, so well that I’m not going to be able to hold off on approaching other sculptors about doing the work here. I haven’t had the nerve to pick up the phone and actually call Ned. It’s disappointing, though, that Ned hasn’t responded to any of my messages as he would have been ideal, but I’ve accepted that not everything in life is perfect.

  Yet, despite work being busy, I feel as if I’ve stepped off the treadmill. Before I head to my desk every day, I go for a walk – either along the beach, round the harbour wall or along the esplanade. Some mornings, I’ve even practised a bit of the yoga that Ned showed me for half an hour or so, though I feel a little foolish doing it by myself.

  I’ve also fallen into the habit of going out with George and Ida a couple of times a week. We head to a small bar in one of the backstreets, Old Salties, and have a few drinks together and maybe some supper. As you would expect in a seaside town, they do fantastic shellfish. George is great company – funny, witty and self-deprecating. I like him a lot. We all have a laugh together and I feel hopeful that Ida is softening towards me again. Nothing has happened between George and Ida yet – as far as I’m aware. Though I realise that I have form in not noticing what’s going on right before my eyes. I do get the impression that I’m very much playing gooseberry as their looks of longing are ever more lingering.

  At least one morning a week, I go out with Marilyn for a coffee and catch-up. As soon as she’s finished the non-existent cleaning to her satisfaction, we either head to the Beach Café or to one of Ida’s many rivals in the town. She’s good company and I love hearing her chatter about her family while she force-feeds me cake. Despite her many invitations, I haven’t yet managed to brave meeting them all. But I will. Just not yet. I’m better. Much better. I’m just not sure that I’m ready to be knee-deep in McConaughey grandbabies. Marilyn has vowed never to stop asking me and I’m glad of that.

  In the evenings, I read a lot. George’s book has helped me to rediscover my mojo and I’m working my way through Bill’s bookcase with a voracious appetite. I talk to Ned’s carving of Lottie about what I might like to read. Then I sit on the deck with a glass or two of wine under the ever-changing sky and relax.

  I think because my head’s not so messed up and I have time in my life, the creativity that I once had at university returns. It’s been sadly missing for a long time. I can call on it for work projects – that’s n
ot been a problem – but my personal creativity has taken a back seat. Now I want to paint again, just for the fun of it. So I found a little art shop in Ventnor where I bought some watercolour paints, brushes, paper and an easel. I set myself up on the deck whenever the mood takes me and, splashing about with my paints, attempt to capture the sunsets and sunrises, the little boats bobbing in and out, the sea birds sitting on the buoys. I’m rusty, but each time I paint, I’m getting better, rediscovering what works and what doesn’t. I’m thinking about signing up for an art class, if I can find one near here.

  I also paint one portrait. After flicking through the old family albums that Bill and I transferred to Facebook, I take a favourite photograph of me as a child and copy it in watercolours. I think this is, perhaps, what Lottie might have looked like too and it makes me happy to have an image of her – even if it’s only one that I’ve created.

  There’s still no sign of Ned and no reply to my texts. Ida has heard nothing either. But I feel OK. Something inside me has shifted and there’s a warmth around my heart, a feeling of wholeness that has been absent. I miss him being next door. I miss him being my friend. But, if he doesn’t come back, I know that I’ll be fine. This is a good, peaceful life. I could have loved Ned, very much I think, but if that’s not to be then, in time, there might be someone else.

  I’m content within myself and it’s been a long time since I’ve known that.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  The summer is in full-flow now. The climate here is very agreeable and the days have been long, hot and sunny. After years of living in London, I’m throwing myself fully into beach lifestyle.

  Despite judicious applications of sunscreen, my legs are bronzed, my face freckled and my hair has lightened with natural highlights. Whether it’s because I’ve relaxed or whether it’s due to Marilyn’s propensity for feeding me, I have filled out and I think I look better for it. Marilyn certainly says so. The bodycon dresses are left behind me in London and I spent my life in shorts and T-shirts. I’ve even been swimming in the sea – intentionally.

  Today, even with the windows open, there’s no breeze and the bedroom cabin is hot. It’s set to be another scorching day, so I rise early and shower. Before settling to work, I decide to head to the beach. Despite not having Ned as my encouraging teacher, I’ve still been practising yoga reasonably regularly and watching yoga videos on YouTube to try to improve my technique. If I’m feeling a bit brave, I might just try a sun salutation.

  I head down to the beach and it’s still quiet at this hour. There are only a few people dotted about, those eager to start their day and not waste a moment of precious sunshine. Then I see, just ahead of me on the sand, a familiar figure and my heart lurches in my chest.

  It’s Ned. Of course. And he’s not alone.

  He’s kneeling in the sand and, next to him, is a small child. It has to be Skye. She’s wearing a frilly pink swimsuit and matching sunhat, and even at this distance, I can tell that she has Ned’s hair, his features and, when she looks up, his eyes.

  ‘Hello,’ she says.

  Ned turns to see who she’s talking to and seems surprised to see me. ‘Jodie.’

  ‘Hi.’ Emotion constricts my throat, but I manage to say, ‘I see that you’re putting your sandcastle-building skills to good use again.’ I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at that photo and longed for a moment like this.

  ‘This little lady couldn’t sleep,’ he tells me. ‘She was wide awake at four o’clock and couldn’t wait to come down to the beach.’

  ‘Is it exciting to be by the seaside?’ I ask her.

  Skye nods at me and keeps digging with her yellow plastic spade. She’s so petite, so pretty that looking at her twists my insides. A tiny version of Ned. I get a pang, longing for the child of mine that might have been. But the new me smiles at the memory and lets it go.

  ‘She’s here for a week,’ Ned says.

  ‘That’s really nice for you. I’m sure you’ll have fun.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He looks at her with pride.

  ‘I tried to contact you while I was in London.’

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I went a bit off-grid for a while.’

  ‘It was about a potential commission. An exciting proposition. Mainly.’ Ned doesn’t look convinced and I guess it’s a conversation we might or might not have at another time. He might not even be prepared to work with me. ‘I didn’t notice that you’d come back.’

  ‘Same here,’ Ned says. ‘We got back from the mainland last night. Though I did note the red car parked outside. Yours?’

  ‘Thought I’d better be mobile,’ I tell him.

  We’re shy with each other, hesitant. He doesn’t know my situation yet and, let’s face it, I don’t know his either.

  After a deep breath, I add, ‘I’m back for good.’

  ‘Just you?’

  I know that the question is loaded. ‘Just me. I have a lot to tell you.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘It was a mistake for me to return to London. I worked that out pretty quickly. But I had to try.’

  Ned acknowledges it with a nod, but says nothing.

  ‘Perhaps I can explain it to you,’ I say. ‘One day.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ned agrees.

  ‘Come on, Daddy,’ Skye says. ‘Dig!’

  Ned smiles at her and rolls his eyes at me. He picks up his spade again and doesn’t ask me to join them on the sand.

  ‘Well, I’d better leave you to it. Sandcastles fit for princesses don’t build themselves. Lovely to see you. And Skye.’

  I turn to walk away, digging my fingernails into my palms to deflect the pain in my heart. This is going to be harder than I hoped. It’s clear that Ned is holding onto his hurt and I’m going to have to work hard to win his confidence again. So be it. I’m not going to give up easily and I have all the time in the world. I’ve only had to see him again to know that he’s worth the effort.

  For now, Skye needs his attention and that’s fine by me. He should concentrate on his relationship with her while she’s here.

  Yet I’ve only gone a dozen steps when I hear Ned say, ‘We’re going down to Ida’s for some breakfast. Come with us?’

  I turn back to him and there’s a lump in my throat when I answer, ‘If it’s OK with you both?’

  ‘What do you think, Skye?’ he asks. ‘Shall we go with Jodie and find something to eat?’

  ‘Will the princess castle be here when we come back?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ned says. ‘When we’ve had breakfast we’ll be ready to build it bigger and fancier.’

  ‘You’re very silly, Daddy,’ is her verdict.

  ‘You’re not the first person to tell me that,’ he says wryly.

  They both put down their spades and, when he stands, Ned looks deep into my eyes, but his expression is unfathomable. Then, with Skye running ahead, the three of us head along the beach to the café.

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Ida’s eyes light up when she’s see Ned. I don’t think that will ever change. She might be enjoying a flirtation with George, but will anyone ever fill the place that Ned holds in her heart? I hope so. It would be nice for Ida to find someone to love who loves her back. It would be nice for all of us.

  ‘Where have you been . . . ?’ Ida mouths an obscenity at Ned.

  ‘I went to bring this little lady back,’ he says.

  ‘And they don’t have mobile phone reception in Northampton?’

  ‘Sorry,’ is all he offers.

  ‘Hey, Skye. I’m Ida – your daddy’s oldest and most tolerant friend.’ She looks pointedly at Ned.

  He holds up his hands in surrender.

  ‘So where are you going to sit, Princess?’ Ida pulls out a chair for Skye and she jumps on. ‘We have ice-cream and waffles.’

  ‘Ice-cream! Can I, Daddy?’

  ‘Ice-cream for breakfast?’ He shakes his head. ‘Don’t tell your mama I let you have ice-cream for breakfast.’

  ‘Y
ay!’ Skye says.

  ‘Ice-cream for you?’ he asks me.

  ‘I was thinking of the more conventional yoghurt and granola. A coffee too, please, Ida.’

  Ned orders as well and, though there’s so much unspoken between us, we mainly listen to Skye chattering away as we eat our breakfast. She’s a delight – a bright and funny child. I wonder if it isn’t too late for me to have a family. I might not get there by the usual means, but if I had a stepchild like Skye that would be just as wonderful, I think.

  The child finishes her breakfast and says, ‘Can I go and play on the beach?’

  ‘Stay close,’ Ned stays. ‘Where I can see you.’

  ‘OK, Daddy.’ She pushes away from the table and runs down to the sand.

  There’s a few moments of silence between us and then I say, ‘She’s a lovely little girl.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m really proud of her.’ He pulls his coffee cup to him and ponders over it before he speaks. ‘Thanks for making me get back in touch. It was the right thing to do. I went over to see Liberty to talk about having more regular access. She agreed.’

  ‘I’m so glad to hear it.’

  ‘I hung around with them for a while, getting to know Skye and their family again. It was awkward at first, but we all worked through it. I even did some carpentry jobs for them – fitting doors and skirting boards. I built a treehouse for the kids too. Liberty has let me bring her back here for a week. It’s a big thing for us all. I have my fingers crossed that it goes well.’

  ‘I’m happy to help. If you’ll let me.’

  ‘That would be great. She’s a real live-wire. I’m out of practice with this parenting lark. I’ll be exhausted by tea-time.’

  We both laugh at that.

  Then the mood changes and I know that this is the time to tell Ned what has happened.

  ‘I have a lot to tell you,’ I say.

  Chapter Ninety-Three