The Beach Hut Next Door

by Veronica Henry

  He went. They wept together, and hugged, and he packed up his clothes and his Xbox and his bike and went to stay with his mate. And Rachel glided around her empty flat for three weeks, turning things over in her mind, examining her conscience, reassuring herself that she hadn’t used or manipulated Lee. Her fear was that he, or people, might think she had just used him and then thrown him to one side when he had served his purpose, but she genuinely hadn’t. She’d gone into their relationship with optimism. She had liked him. His aversion to the situation had come from him, not any particular pressure she had put him under. Of that she was quite sure.

  So when she drove down the motorway to Everdene, her conscience was clear. She had no inkling what her reception would be. If this was the craziest idea ever. But she had to give it a go.

  She’d tried not to overthink what she was doing. She hadn’t run through all the possible scenarios. It was too stressful. She had decided that what would be would be. And anyway, the most likely outcome would be that she would head back home on her own. That she would have the baby on her own. And she would manage.

  And now here she was, in front of the beach hut. The beach hut that Tim wanted to be hers. The beach hut that had once been theirs. Even now, she could remember their euphoria as they took possession of it on that first day. It wasn’t the most salubrious hut on the beach: it was ramshackle and wonky and really needed knocking down and re-building, but it had been theirs and they had loved it.

  The door was shut. There was no way of telling what sort of shut. A just-popped-to-the-shop sort of shut, or something more permanent. She felt wrong-footed. On a glorious Saturday like this, she had felt sure he would be there. She felt the key in her pocket. It would be wrong of her to go in. It would be an invasion of his privacy. And she didn’t know what she might find.

  But she felt so tired. The drive, the walk, the heat – it overwhelmed her. She needed something to drink. She could walk back up the beach to one of the vans selling cold cans and ice cream. On the other hand, she knew he wouldn’t mind. He just wouldn’t. That’s how well she knew him.

  She slid the key into the lock and pushed open the door. Inside, nothing much had changed since she’d left it. She tried very hard not to examine everything for evidence of anyone else. It took a supreme effort of will. But nothing was apparent. No female detritus. No scarves or dinky little size ten wetsuits or lipstick traces.

  She filled up a glass of water at the sink and drank. She’d overdone it, she realized. She would have to sit down. She collapsed onto the sofa, remembering the last time the two of them had sat there. When he’d made the incredibly generous offer that had made her realize there was never going to be another man for her. Had that subconsciously made her send off negative signals to Lee, she wondered? Had something deep within her driven him away? She hoped not.

  The thoughts spinning round her head became jumbled and she felt herself drifting. She lay her head down on a cushion. Just for a moment, she thought. Just a moment …

  ‘Hey.’ The voice was gentle and kind. ‘Hey. Goldilocks.’

  Rachel started awake. Oh God. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. And now she’d been caught, bang to rights. Tim was standing over her. He was in his wetsuit, his hair still damp and slicked back. He looked concerned.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  She sat up, insensible with afternoon sleep. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I just came in for some water. You must think I’m really out of order—’

  ‘Rach …’ He put out a hand to touch her shoulder. ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘But it’s your month.’

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile. ‘You’re being silly.’

  She felt sticky; her hair had stuck to the side of her head where she’d lain on the pillow.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  She blinked at him. Now she was here, her idea seemed mad. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ He looked down at her stomach. There was a noticeable bump; a perfect dome, hard under the soft fabric of her T-shirt. She saw him take in the slightest breath.

  ‘Yes. Yes, everything’s fine. Absolutely fine.’ She couldn’t think what to say.

  ‘So …?’

  What should she tell him? She swallowed. Put a hand on her stomach with one hand; brushed her hair back with the other.

  ‘I …’

  She was going to tell him. She was going to tell him about Lee going, and leave it up to him. But before the words came out of her mouth, another figure appeared in the doorway. A slight woman, with equally damp hair and a freckled face, also in a wetsuit. She was carrying two Magnums.

  ‘Quick – before they melt. I got you the dark chocolate one. Better for you than the white …’

  The woman stopped and looked at Rachel.

  ‘This is Rachel,’ said Tim.

  ‘Oh,’ said the woman, a million meanings in the word.

  ‘She can have my ice cream.’ Tim took one of the Magnums and passed it to Rachel. The woman did not look best pleased.

  Rachel floundered for an explanation.

  ‘I just called in because … I was down seeing some friends and it seemed rude not to come and say hello.’ It was lame, but it was the best she could come up with.

  ‘Really.’ The chill in the woman’s tone was arctic. ‘I’ll go, then, shall I?’

  ‘No!’ Rachel panicked. She didn’t want to cause trouble. ‘Honestly. I was in Everdene and I thought …’

  ‘Yeah.’ The woman marched across the hut to grab what Rachel could now see were her clothes, hanging on the back of a chair – a sweatshirt and jeans she had mistaken for Tim’s.

  ‘Honey—’ Tim put out a restraining hand.

  ‘Don’t call me honey.’ She jerked away from him, her face full of fury.

  ‘Please,’ said Rachel. ‘It’s a misunderstanding.’

  The woman stood in front of her with her clothes bunched up in a bundle. ‘Mystery pregnant woman appears from nowhere? I’m not an idiot.’

  Rachel and Tim looked at each other.

  ‘Oh God. It’s not mine! If that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Tim.

  ‘You would say that.’ The woman shoved her ice cream at him. ‘You can have that one. I’ve lost my appetite all of a sudden.’

  She turned and marched out of the hut.

  Tim raised his eyebrows and gave a heavy sigh. ‘Well.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Rachel. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Tim. ‘She was getting a bit much. Nice girl but a total control freak. Won’t even let me choose my own Magnum flavour.’

  He started unwrapping the ice cream nevertheless. They ate in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Tim started to laugh. ‘Talk about getting the wrong end of the stick.’

  Rachel joined in. ‘I know. Gotta love irony.’

  They carried on laughing, almost until it hurt, the tension and weirdness of the situation fuelling their mirth. Tim had always been able to make her laugh, thought Rachel. And laughing was so important. She realized she hadn’t laughed, not properly, for a very long time.

  Tim suddenly stopped, and stared at her. She stared back. Time stood still. Should she tell him? Or should she make her escape; face the journey on her own? Pretend she really had just called in to say hello.

  ‘We’ve split up.’

  ‘What – you and—’ He still couldn’t remember the bloke’s name. Something footballer-y.

  ‘Lee. Yes.’

  Tim nodded. Swallowed and nodded, wondering what was coming next.

  ‘I’m sorry. I guess? If you are? I don’t know …’

  ‘I’m not sorry. I’m relieved.’ The words tumbled out of her.

  ‘Good. I suppose.’

  He felt so awkward. He didn’t know the
rules, or why she was here, or what he was supposed to say. He turned away, because he realized he had the tiniest of hopes and he didn’t want her to see it. Just in case.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ God, how banal and English.

  ‘I don’t really drink tea at the moment.’

  ‘No. Of course not. What would you like instead?’

  She didn’t answer. He turned around. ‘Rach?’

  She was sitting up straight, staring at him. He wanted to touch her hair. Her beautiful hair. He wanted to take her in his arms.

  ‘Is it too late?’ she asked.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Us?’

  His heart was hammering. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I don’t want to have this baby on my own. If I have to, I will, of course. But …’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Or is it just too weird?’

  ‘Weird?’ Tim shook his head in disbelief. ‘Yes, it’s weird, because it’s like a dream come true. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left. I haven’t stopped worrying about you. I haven’t stopped wanting you, Rachel – wanting to look after you. Wanting to spend the rest of my life with you …’

  His voice broke. The emotion was too much. He came and knelt in front of her, holding her hands.

  ‘I feel the same,’ she whispered.

  He pulled her in tight, ran his hands through her hair, that silken hair he had never forgotten.

  ‘I didn’t plan it,’ said Rachel. ‘I didn’t use Lee. I honestly didn’t. I thought it would work. But it wasn’t what he wanted.’

  ‘Shhhh,’ said Tim. ‘I know. It’s OK. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘People will think it’s strange.’

  ‘People can think what they like.’

  ‘It’s my baby,’ said Rachel. ‘It’s my baby, first and foremost. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  They held each other, as tight as tight could be.

  ‘You can teach the baby to swim,’ said Rachel. ‘I can watch while you teach the baby to swim.’

  Tim buried his face in her neck, breathed in the scent of Rachel that he had never forgotten. He had gone from feeling empty, a shadow of himself, like a very bad actor playing a part in a play he didn’t believe in, to feeling invincible. So filled with happiness it hurt.

  She held his hands and pulled herself to her feet. ‘Let’s walk down to the sea,’ she said. ‘I want to feel the water on my skin.’

  They wandered hand in hand down to the sea edge. The beach was crowded, but they felt as if they were the only people in the world. Rachel rolled up her skirt and they walked into the water. The waves lapped around them, eager, as if welcoming them back after a long time away.

  ‘Cordelia,’ said Rachel. ‘It means daughter of the sea.’

  ‘Is it a girl, then?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Well, definitely Cordelia,’ said Tim. ‘If it’s a girl. Obviously.’

  She nudged him with her elbow, smiling. ‘What if it’s a boy?’

  They both thought for a moment.

  ‘How about Neptune?’ Tim suggested. ‘Going with the sea theme.’

  She frowned. ‘I thought Poisedon.’

  They turned to look at each other. They were both trying desperately to keep a straight face. Rachel cracked first. She bent double, laughing, and Tim pretended to look wounded and confused but then he gave in, and they leaned into each other as the water swirled around them, helpless with the kind of laughter that makes you want to live forever and ever.

  ELODIE

  Elodie stood at the top of the cliff path. It was only just before dawn, and a soft breeze ruffled the marram grass. Pink started to spread across the sky, like paint being squeezed from a tube. It lit up the horizon with a rosiness that lifted her heart. There was nothing more uplifting than daybreak by the sea.

  Earlier in the week she and Colm had married, very quietly, in a civil ceremony at a hotel in Hampstead, with afternoon tea afterwards. She had eschewed a reception and a honeymoon; just told him that she had a surprise. She had left him the night before with a white envelope he wasn’t to open until the morning, which contained instructions on how to get to Everdene. All their children had a similar envelope, and instructions to pack overnight bags for themselves and the grandchildren.

  Fifteen altogether, they would be, their enmeshed family. The bedrooms were all made up and ready. The house had been painted in a pale limewash, the wooden floors stripped; the kitchens and bathrooms replaced with simple white units. The drawing room had lost its formality – now there were low, squashy sofas and sheer curtains in different shades of grey and silver. There was very little else yet – Elodie wanted the house to grow with her and Colm in their new life, rather than inflict what she already had upon it. They would choose books and paintings and ornaments together over the next few years. She wanted the house to be allowed to breathe; to let it evolve.

  The pièce de résistance, for the youngest ones, was the beach hut. She’d had it completely renovated, re-using all the old wood, so it still had the feel of having been there decades, yet had all the mod cons needed for an overnight stay. There were curtains and cushions in ice-cream stripes, and bunk beds and built-in cupboards, as snug as a gypsy caravan.

  The hut still felt special to her. The memories from her childhood were still good ones; she wouldn’t let them be spoiled by what came after. And actually, she wouldn’t go back and change anything. She loved who she was, what she had become, the people she had spent her life with, the life she wasn’t meant to have had. Lady Bellnap, Edmund, and now Colm – she would never have known their kindness and strength and wisdom had things gone according to plan.

  All that was left of that part of her past was Lillie. But they had reforged their bond and it was stronger than ever. Some of her mother’s old strength and spirit seemed to have been restored to her since she left the home. She had put on weight and she was a far better colour. Her interest in her appearance had revived – thanks to Elodie, Lillie had discovered the Internet, and there was hardly a day when a new silk scarf or flacon of perfume didn’t arrive. Elodie had found a local woman who was happy to come in and keep house while she was in London, so she knew Lillie was looked after properly, and she had been in to see the local GP to make sure that if her mother needed medical attention, they were on hand.

  And now she waited for the rest of her family to arrive – her own flesh and blood, and her offspring by marriage. Everdene was the perfect place for the generations to co-exist. She wanted The Grey House to be there for all of them, for them to come and go as they pleased, for them to be able to invite their friends. She wanted security and happiness and a sense of place for all of them, a sense of coming home.

  After all, if she could have that feeling, after fifty years, then Everdene would work its magic on them too. She put her face up to the breeze, marvelling at how happy she felt, how contented, how calm.

  At half past ten, she heard the crunch of tyres on the new gravel she’d had laid on the drive. She rushed to the front door, flinging it open, and her heart swelled with joy as she saw Colm get out of his car, a smile of bemused wonder on his face.

  ‘Nice gaffe,’ he said, with his usual dry understatement.

  ‘Well,’ said Elodie. ‘It’s sort of my wedding present. Not just to you, but to all of us.’

  Colm took his overnight bag out of the boot and slammed it shut. ‘It’s a lovely present. Much nicer than a wedding reception. A family weekend at the seaside.’ He breathed in the sea air appreciatively.

  ‘Um. Not just a weekend.’

  Colm raised an eyebrow as he grinned at her, and Elodie looked a bit sheepish. But that was what she loved about him – the fact that he wouldn’t question what she had done o
r complain that she had kept a secret from him. They trusted each other so completely. They were as one, yet two distinct individuals.

  Elodie drew him inside and walked him through the hall towards the drawing room. She threw open the door. It had never looked more perfect, the sunshine streaming in, turning the grey to silver; the sea a haze of pewter in the distance.

  ‘Wow.’ Colm nodded. ‘Just … wow.’

  ‘This is ours,’ said Elodie. ‘It’s for you and me, and all the children. All of us. For ever.’

  ‘Really?’ Colm looked at her.

  ‘I’m not trying to hijack our life,’ Elodie told him, ‘but this place means more to me than anywhere on earth, and I want you and I and our families to enjoy it.’

  ‘You’ve bought it?’

  Elodie bit her lip, but she couldn’t help smiling as she nodded. ‘Brings new meaning to the words impulse purchase.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Though it wasn’t an impulse purchase, really. It was a … compulsory purchase. I didn’t have any choice in the matter.’

  ‘I can imagine. It’s a magical place,’ said Colm. He took her hand, and together they walked out through the French windows and onto the terrace. The sea breeze rushed forward to caress them. Elodie felt a rush of joy; a huge sense that everything had come full circle after all these years.

  ‘There is a story, of course.’

  Colm smiled. ‘Of course there is. It wouldn’t be you if there wasn’t.’

  ‘Do you want to hear it?’

  ‘Does it have a happy ending?’

  She smiled. ‘This is the ending.’

  ‘Then yes. I’d love to hear it.’

  Elodie led him down onto the lawn. She couldn’t begin to count the number of times she had walked across it. But this time, she was with the love of her life. The man she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. They reached the top of the dunes and she heard Colm take in a breath of wonder as he took in the full view of the beach below and the sea beyond.