Winter at Wishington Bay

by Maxine Morrey

  I headed into the bathroom and proceeded with my usual routine, some part of my brain craving normality, before I made my way into the kitchen. My stomach churned at the thought of food, so I fished out a ginger and lemon teabag and dropped it in a cup while I flicked the kettle on to boil with the other hand. Having got my drink, I took it through to the living room and sat on the sofa. Part of my mind was spinning wildly, but another part of me felt numb and like I was moving through thick, cold custard. Raised voices caught my attention, bringing me out of my fog. I stepped to the window, careful to keep myself back enough to still be out of sight to the telephoto lenses attached to the gutter press circling below. Flora was out there, waving her arms and yelling at the group of them now gathered outside the frontage of her shop.

  A fresh wave of sickness and guilt rolled over me. The mob were completely blocking the door of her shop, enough to put off all but the most determined visitors, while window shoppers didn’t have a hope of getting through. This was why I should have stayed in a city. I’d been foolish to think that I could just leave that life behind forever. There was always going to be someone who’d find a way to suck me back in. I’d been so careful. Even my ex-husband didn’t know where I lived – my solicitors had been given strict instructions that neither he, nor anyone else, was to be told. Obviously I’d had to do all the legal stuff in my original name and, as much as I’d been trying to distance myself from it, in that instance, it had proved useful. The name of Huntingdon-Jones was old, and well known – a fact I knew to my cost – it had been one of the most attractive things about me, as far as my ex-husband had been concerned. I’d insisted on keeping it, the one thing I refused to concede. My father was no longer around but I was determined to hold on to his name. I’d tacked Jeremy’s surname on the end of mine when we married but inevitably it sometimes got omitted in the interest of space in the press. My name carried weight, so what I requested, including utmost privacy and my mail to be addressed using my adjusted name, was immediately adhered to. No, this leak had come from the village. Serena had recognised me – how, I still hadn’t worked out – but that was a worry for a different day, and her new best friend, Corinne, had done the rest. And, by the looks of it, Flora and her business were paying the price. I knew I should ring her. Try to apologise. Offer to somehow compensate her for any business she lost because of this, but right now there was one thing I knew I needed to do, and I couldn’t put it off any more. Picking up my phone, I switched it on and waited for it do its thing. Once it had, I knew the situation was even worse than I’d imagined. Notifications poured in, beeps and pings, one after the other, lighting up my phone as bright as the Christmas lights I’d forgotten to turn off last night before falling into bed, upset and mentally exhausted, dreading the following day. But that day was now here, and as I looked down at the screen, I wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed with it.

  I dropped the phone as it rang, the sound startling me out of my bad dream-like state. The number wasn’t one I recognised, and I immediately swiped ‘decline’. No sooner had I done that, it rang again, this time with a different but again unrecognised number. Decline. Ring. Decline. Ring. Decline, decline, decline. According to my log, there were already more voicemails than my inbox could hold and a plethora of texts. Clearly Corinne had not only been free with my real name and address, but also my telephone number. I switched the phone to silent, deleted the voicemails wholesale, and did the same with the texts. Then I took a deep inhale and opened the internet.

  Lady of the Loo!

  Lady HJ Reduced to Cleaning Toilets!

  Aristo’s Fall From Grace

  From Being Waited On Hand and Foot to Becoming the Waitress!

  Lady Sophia – Cleaning Loos and Finding Comfort in the Arms of a Married Man.

  On and on they went, all in the same vein. ‘Inside sources’ and someone ‘close to Lady Sophia’ gave all manner of information, the majority of it incorrect. I’d long since learned that such sources were often just the muck-rakers themselves, making up gossip to help sell their rags and boost their website hits. Not that it made it any easier. People believed it, and that was all they cared about. Facts were way down the list of things that such people held any concern for.

  The whoop-whoop of a siren outside caught my attention. I dropped the phone and returned to my stealthy spot by the window. A police car had now pulled up outside and two officers got out, placing their hats on their head as they did so. The gaggle of press glanced towards them then back towards the windows of my flat as Flora bustled her way through to get to the policemen. I stood in the shadows and watched as she spoke to them, her arms flailing about as she did so. A tear crept down one cheek. Flora had been so kind to me, and this was how I repaid her. Even if I hadn’t intended it, I’d always known it was a possibility and now she was paying the price. One of the policemen stayed with Flora as the older one moved towards the assortment of press. I couldn’t hear exactly what he said but guessed he was asking them to move on. A car was now sitting in the narrow road, trying to get past the group that took up half of it as well as the pavement. It gave a beep and received a couple of rude hand gestures in reply. I recognised the car as belonging to a lovely couple who lived on the edge of the village as you walked up to it from Holly and Gabe’s place. They owned the beautiful garden Nate and I had walked past and we’d had many a pleasant chat when I’d seen them working away in it. They didn’t deserve that kind of treatment any more than Flora did. The policeman was doing his best, but the paparazzi weren’t in any mood to listen to reason. I wasn’t sure people like that ever were. They had their eye on the prize. And that prize was me.

  Fine. If that’s what they wanted, that’s what they’d get. This village had been kind to me. I knew now my life here was over but the time I’d spent in this little community had helped me heal in more ways than I ever realised I needed. They didn’t deserve this, and it was going to stop. I was going to make it stop.

  26

  Heading back into the bathroom, I yanked the shower pull switch on with a little more force than was probably necessary and stripped off my nightclothes as the water warmed. Fresh and clean, I quickly dried my hair and left it loose. Next, I pulled on jeans and a cosy Liberty sweatshirt before sitting down at the tiny dressing table. Since I’d moved here, I no longer wore the ‘full face’ I’d done day in, day out in my previous life. It never did to be caught without your make-up, and the thought of sitting around in jogging bottoms would have had my mother clutching her heart. My ex-husband definitely wouldn’t have approved either – assuming he even noticed my presence, which in itself was pretty hit and miss. As strange as it seemed, curling up in front of the television or with a book in cosy lounge pants had been yet another revelation in my new life. But right now, I had to deal with fallout from my old life and, for that, I needed a bit of armour. I unzipped my make-up bag and went to work.

  I sat back and studied myself for a moment. Better. I still looked like me, rather than who I’d had to be back then, but the magic of make-up had hidden the dark circles I’d woken up with after my fitful night, as well as disguising the slightly green pallor my skin still held thanks to this latest turn of events. Slipping my feet into my favourite pair of ankle boots, I grabbed my phone, shoved it in my back pocket and slid my arms into my long tan cashmere coat. I turned to the full-length mirror that hung on the wall in my tiny hallway. If I was going to face the wolves, I was going to do it looking pretty damn fabulous. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I focused, calming my racing pulse, then I grabbed my keys and walked purposefully down the stairs to my front door. A couple more deep breaths here and then I twisted the lock, pulled the door open and stepped out.

  The noise assaulted my ears as much as the flashes firing in the dull gloom of the winter’s day attacked my eyes. I didn’t address any of them but kept my eyes focused on my initial goal – to find Flora. I knew that whether I said anything or not, the photos being taken right now would b
e all over the internet within hours, and in the papers and gossip magazines before the end of the week. There was nothing I could do about that, so I focused on getting to my friend instead. Stood at her doorway, Flora was still trying to do battle with the motley bunch blocking her shop. Shoving my way through, I reached for her outstretched hand and took it gratefully as she hauled me inside before closing the door and giving the lock a definitive twist.

  ‘The police got another call. He said they’d come back after if they can.’

  Leaning back against the door, I met her eyes, preparing to launch into the speech I’d had running through my head ever since I’d made my decision. As I opened my mouth, Flora stopped me.

  ‘Whatever it is you’re going to say, you don’t need to.’

  ‘But—’

  She shook her head. ‘Nope. I don’t want to hear it. I can see from your face, and the way you’ve battled through that pack of blood-thirsty lowlifes out there that you feel you need to explain something to me, but you don’t.’

  I let out a sigh. ‘I really do, Flora. Not to mention apologising for all this happening quite literally on your doorstep and disrupting your business.’

  She waved the apology away, the handful of bracelets on her wrist making a gentle tinkling noise as she did so.

  ‘Oh, they’ll be off soon enough, and don’t you worry about that in the meantime. The main thing is, how are you?’

  I glanced over my shoulder out of the window for a moment, before turning back to her. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure. I suppose I should have known this would happen at some point. It was just a bit of a pipedream to think I could carry on as I was.’

  ‘It’s good to have dreams, Soph. Pipe or otherwise. It’s what drives us. It’s what brought you to us, even if you didn’t know it.’

  I gave the rabble outside another brief glance. ‘I’m not sure everyone will be so thrilled about that right now.’

  Flora gave another tinkling wave. ‘Nonsense. You’ve been a wonderful addition to the village.’ She tilted her head to one side, studying me for a moment. ‘I hope all this doesn’t mean you’ll be leaving us.’

  I lifted my head from where I’d been studying the toes of my boots. Flora read something in my expression and reached out, taking my hand and pulling me gently away from the window and out of the sight of the intrusive eyes and camera lenses.

  ‘It doesn’t matter to any of us what your title is, or why you chose not to share that with anyone. We love you for who you are, and even if you take that title back up, it won’t change anything. “A rose by any other name” and all that,’ she added.

  ‘I still should have told you.’

  ‘It doesn’t make any difference. I know you will have had your reasons and we respect that, and anyone who cares about you will understand that.’

  ‘I think it will make a difference to some people.’

  Flora’s look was kind, if a little sad. ‘Have you heard from him?’

  I shook my head. ‘He made it very clear he didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark about my background. Honesty is a rather sensitive subject for him these days, which I can understand after his experience with Serena.’ I thought of her possessive stance and Nate’s cold look. ‘Although he looked like he was about to forgive her all that from what I saw when I went to the house yesterday.’

  ‘You didn’t lie, love.’

  ‘I lied by omission in Nate’s eyes. And maybe that’s true.’

  ‘You did what was right for you, and that’s what matters. You had your reasons and it’s up to you whether you choose to share those. And if you do, it’s got to be when you’re ready and only because you want to. Not because of some misplaced sense of duty.’

  I gave an automatic eyeroll Flora smiled. ‘Something tells me you’ve had more than your share of “duty-calls” experiences.’

  I gave a watery smile. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. So, don’t go putting any extra pressure on yourself now when you don’t need to. We’re all here for you, whatever you decide to do. Whatever you need, just let us know.’ I gave her a hug then ran a hand back over my hair, smoothing it automatically, unwilling to give the gossip mongers any fodder about me ‘looking dishevelled’.

  Maybe Flora was right. I wasn’t any different now that the whole village knew my real name, and probably my entire bloodline, if the gossip merchants had been as thorough as they usually were. Getting the facts correct, however, was often far further down their list. For those I was lucky enough to call friends, I could only hope that it wouldn’t matter. That, as Flora said, they cared enough about me not to be bothered by any of it. I would still be the same old Sophia to them. Of course, it mattered to people like Corinne and Serena, but their motives were different. They were in it for what they could get out of it. I’d met enough of those sort of people to last a lifetime and, although Wishington Bay was pretty close to perfect, there was always going to be the odd blot on the landscape. In this instance, it had been Corinne, helping my world implode.

  And then there was Nate McKinley. Clearly, I’d made a rather spectacular error of judgement in that area. I’d been swept up enough by him to think he really cared. But he hadn’t. Not really. At least not enough, or as much as I’d thought he had. Maybe he was really just a lonely man looking for a soft touch and a warm bed.

  So why hadn’t he followed through with Corinne?

  Having now seen Serena in the flesh, that was a pretty easy question to answer. Corinne and Serena were two sides of the same coin. Nate had been looking to try something different – maybe he even believed that was what he wanted. What he needed at the time. But, in the end, he’d returned to what he knew. What, somewhere inside, he truly wanted. I tried to tell myself he had cared about me at some point, in some way. Just not enough.

  I’d given my messages a quick scan before deleting them wholesale earlier today but there’d been nothing from Nate – not that I’d really expected there to be. His expression and body language the day before had spoken volumes. Any thought that things might go somewhere with him had been a ridiculous flight of fancy. I’d got caught up in the excitement of someone actually wanting me – and me wanting them – and my romantic fantasies, kept in sensible check for so many years, had run on unhindered. As I moved, still feeling the ache in my body from what had turned out to be a rather active weekend, I knew I needed to ignore those physical reminders and put Nate out of my mind. It was over. Pushing my shoulders back and adjusting my coat, I tried to focus on that thought. The only trouble was, it didn’t stop me missing him. Being with Nate, right from the beginning, before anything remotely romantic had begun to form, had been about so much more than just romance. It had been about fulfilling a need to be with someone who listened, who laughed, who had his own opinions but who also respected mine and, most of all, about being with someone who I could finally be myself with. Unfortunately, as far as Nate was concerned, I hadn’t been myself at all.

  The door handle gave another rattle and Flora strode back to the front of the shop, yanking the blind down on the door.

  ‘Honestly, what’s wrong with these people?’ She shook her head as she headed back towards me.

  I gave a shrug. I’d never been one for gossip, either in print or real life, but I knew some thrived on it. There was probably some psychology in there somewhere but I’d never had enough interest to look into it.

  ‘People clearly have far too much time on their hands, clamouring after gossip about people they don’t even know!’ Flora’s observation was probably as good an explanation as any. Outside, the mob clamoured and chattered and occasionally peered in the window.

  ‘I need to get rid of this lot somehow. They’re blocking the shop and ruining your trade.’

  Flora gave another airy wave. ‘Don’t you worry about me, love. They’ll move on soon enough. It’s you I’m worried about.’

  I returned the wave with a lightness I didn’t exactly feel
as I prepared to leave. By the look on her face, Flora wasn’t buying it. In my pocket, my phone vibrated again. I’d turned the ringer off but apparently that wasn’t enough. Changing my number was rapidly being moved to the top of my to do list. I pulled out the phone, readying to switch it off entirely when I saw that it was Ned calling.

  ‘Hi,’ I answered.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Before you say anything else, I just want to apologise for—’

  ‘Soph,’ he cut across me.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s nothing to apologise for. So, you’ve got a slightly fancier name than we thought. Big deal. Other than that, you’re still one of my best waitresses for as long as you want the job.’

  ‘Oh Ned.’ I felt the tears prickle my eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Nothing to thank me for. But it might be an idea for you to take the next couple of days off.’

  ‘Oh,’ I felt the colour draining from my face. Was this Ned’s way of letting me down gently after all?

  ‘And don’t take that the wrong way. I literally only mean for a couple of days. It’s not a prelude to anything. It’s just that there’s a whole pack of press camped outside the restaurant. I heard they’re outside your place too. So, it’s probably best you just keep your distance from this lot, at least for now. Obviously, no one is talking to them so they’re not getting anything from here.’ He paused. ‘Not now anyway. I know Corinne had a pretty large hand in all this, and I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘That’s not your fault, Ned.’