Summer at Coastguard Cottages

by Jennifer Bohnet

  ‘I’d give a lot to turn the clock back,’ Guy said quietly.

  ‘Sadly not possible,’ Karen said, shaking her head. ‘Besides, living in the past isn’t good for you. I know my present is difficult for various reasons – yours too. But I’m positive making plans and embracing the future is the only way to go.’ She sighed. ‘For me anyway.’

  She had no idea what had happened in Guy’s life to make him so depressed and sad, but hearing herself utter the words, she realised it was the truth. In future she had to make things happen for her – not simply wait for them to happen – if she was to have any kind of life after Derek.

  The river trip had passed in a flash, it seemed to Karen, as they heard the boat’s engines slow down and it drew up alongside the landing pontoon in Dartmouth harbour.

  Karen stood up. ‘Come on, cheer up. It’s time to disembark and live in the present. Start making those memories. Our first one is going to focus on ice cream. I’m going to treat us both to a large traditional one with both clotted cream and a flake. No argument.’

  Guy laughed. ‘Karen Weston – you’ve turned into one bossy lady.’

  Two hours later, after wandering through the ancient streets, sidestepping tourists, they bought two portions of fish and chips and made for the embankment to sit and eat them.

  ‘So, tell me about these exciting plans of yours,’ Guy said.

  ‘They’re only exciting to me,’ Karen said. ‘You’ll find them mundane after the life you’ve led.’

  ‘At this point in my life mundane sounds good. Tell me.’

  So she told him about her dream of turning The Captain’s House into a boutique-type guesthouse. ‘I don’t know whether it will work, or even whether it’s a feasible idea, but at least I’m making plans for a future under my control. Which is more than I was six months ago,’ she added quietly. ‘Of course I can only plan so much before I know exactly where I stand with Derek and finance, but I’m getting excited about my future. What about you? Is being down here helping you sort things in your mind?’

  Guy nodded. ‘A bit. Though I haven’t got to the planning my future bit yet, I’m definitely enjoying making more memories with you.’

  After they’d eaten, they walked out to the castle and wandered around soaking up the atmosphere, with Karen feeling increasingly happy in Guy’s company. It was late afternoon when, at Karen’s suggestion because she was feeling tired, they made for the small landing stage to catch the ferry back to Dartmouth.

  ‘That’s new,’ Guy said as he saw the bronze mermaid sitting on her rock. ‘She’s beautiful.’

  ‘Miranda’s been there for a few years now,’ Karen said. ‘And yes, she is extremely beautiful, but all mermaids make me feel sad.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘A mythical creature who lives for three hundred years and is neither a fish nor a woman? I can’t help thinking how awful it would be to be trapped in that guise, unable to shake it off and live a proper life as one or the other. Be like living a half-life.’

  She held her arm out over the gunwales of the small motorboat and let her hand trail in the water. ‘But anyone can become trapped in some sort of half-life – by not fighting for what you really want and compromising.’ She nodded thoughtfully. ‘The saying that compromise is the secret of a happy marriage has a lot to answer for.’ She glanced at Guy. ‘Sorry, I’m getting a bit maudlin. Blame the mermaid.’

  ‘I guess we’re lucky then that we don’t live for three hundred years,’ Guy said.

  Back in Dartmouth they made for Bayards Cove and sat there contentedly with glasses of wine and packets of crisps from the pub, until it was time for the trip back to Totnes.

  Sitting on the tourist boat making its way upriver, its fairy lights strung between the bow and the stern twinkling in the dusk, Karen hesitated before turning to face Guy. ‘Can I ask you something? And will you answer honestly?’

  ‘Anything – and yes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you write to me like you said you were going to? I would have written to you but I had no way of getting your address. After that unexpected goodbye kiss – our first – I was convinced we’d always know each other. That I actually meant something to you. I was unbearably hurt when no letter arrived.’

  Karen fell silent as the memory of that long-ago fleeting kiss came flooding back. ‘Chris said you’d told him how much you liked me. When you didn’t write, he offered to try and find you and punch the daylights out of you for upsetting his kid sister!’

  Gently, Guy picked up her hand and held it tightly. ‘I thought you were out of my league,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t think a girl like you, planning to go to university, ambitious to make something of your life, would be interested in someone like me for long.’

  ‘You couldn’t have been more wrong,’ Karen said quietly.

  They sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts, as the boat chugged its way back alongside the quay. As they both stood up, Guy caught hold of her hand. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you all those years ago. I wouldn’t make that mistake today.’

  Week Four

  Carrie glanced at her watch. Dom had texted earlier. ‘2day is the day. B with u 4 lunch.’ A text that had immediately thrown her into panic mode.

  What should she give him for lunch? Did she have enough food in to feed him? He wouldn’t be able to drink more than a glass as he was driving, so the pinot gris in the fridge would be more than enough for the two of them. On the other hand, she could take him to the pub? No, too public. She was really looking forward to seeing him and wanted to enjoy his company without the presence of other people. Besides, Anthony Trumble might actually be there playing host and she could do without seeing him.

  In the end she decided on a sort of ploughman’s for lunch: a platter with the cheese and ham she’d bought in the shop, a big salad and a fresh baguette. Dessert would be fresh raspberries from the canes she’d discovered in the garden. As it was a beautiful sunny day they would eat in the garden down by the stream.

  She was picking the raspberries when she heard a car arrive. Eleven-thirty. He was earlier than she’d expected – unless it was Anthony Trumble again. Thankfully, as she walked round to the front of the house, she saw it was Dom. He was out of his car and looking around appreciatively.

  ‘You’re early,’ she said, smiling. ‘Good to see you.’ She hesitated for a couple of seconds, expecting him to sweep her up into his arms, then leaned towards him and kissed his cheek when she realised he wasn’t about to do anything of the kind. He was far too busy looking around.

  ‘Well, aren’t you the lucky one. What a place to inherit. Must be worth a bit.’

  Carrie shrugged his words away. ‘Probably. I haven’t had it valued. Come on in and I’ll give you a guided tour.’

  ‘Lead on. I’ll give you the lowdown on the furniture. Even take some of it off your hands if it’s any good.’

  By the time she’d shown him around Carrie was beginning to feel irritated. This meeting was nothing like she’d expected. Something was wrong. Dom was clearly on edge, almost acting as if she was merely a client who’d called him in to discuss furniture prices. Back downstairs in the sitting room she finally turned to him.

  ‘What’s going on, Dom? You’ve been here an hour and, after greeting me like someone you barely know, you’ve done nothing but behave like an antique dealer on speed anxious to do a deal.’

  Dom flushed as he moved across and took her in his arms. ‘I’m sorry. Lots on my mind. And I was a bit nervous about coming here today. I didn’t mean to be rude.’ He bent his head to kiss her.

  ‘Well, you have been,’ Carrie snapped, moving her face away. ‘Why were you nervous about seeing me? Weeks ago you told me you had some news, which I’m still waiting to hear. Is it that making you nervous?’

  There was a brief silence as Dom bit his lip as he looked at her, clearly apprehensive.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, get on with it. Can’t be that bad or difficult.’

&nbs
p; ‘Sophie and I are back together,’ Dom said.

  Carrie looked at him wordlessly. Not sure what news she’d been expecting to hear from Dom, it certainly wasn’t that.

  ‘She’s pregnant.’

  And it wasn’t that either.

  ‘Happen on the family holiday, did it?’ she said, finally finding her voice.

  Dom shook his head. ‘No. Oh hell, you might as well know the truth. It happened one of the weekends I couldn’t see you because I had the girls.’

  ‘And obviously your ex-wife,’ Carrie muttered.

  Dom ignored her interruption and carried on.

  ‘You know those weekends when you offered to meet and bond with my children, and I said it was too soon? Well, that was a lie. They didn’t come to me – I went to them and stayed there. Sophie insisted it was easier that way.’

  Carrie stared at him. ‘You went home every other weekend and slept with your wife, the whole time we’ve been seeing each other? Even though you led me to believe we had a future together. Even though I introduced you to my parents as the man I hoped to marry. How could you?’

  ‘I didn’t sleep with her every weekend.’ Dom closed his eyes in mortification.

  Carrie clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the urge to deliver a stinging blow to Dom’s face. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how hurt she was.

  ‘I honestly didn’t set out to deceive you, I really liked you – still do.’

  ‘Oh, please. Next you’ll be asking to stay friends.’

  ‘Could we?’

  ‘If you believe that’s possible for one moment… You. Are. Truly. Delusional,’ Carrie said. ‘Please go.’

  ‘Carrie?’

  ‘GO.’

  She waited until she heard the car drive away before going into the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine out of the fridge, picking up a glass, and making her way into the sitting room.

  Sitting on the settee, staring at all the photos she’d left on the piano and drinking her wine, she thought about her relationship with Dom. Had she been stupid, gullible or just plain desperate for a happy ending? Why had it never occurred to her that things between them weren’t working out as they should have done?

  When her parents had been lukewarm with their welcome to Dom, alarm bells should have rung, surely? Her parents, particularly her mum, were always on the ball when it came to judging people. The fact they hadn’t taken to Dom at all should have been enough for her to finish with him before she’d even begun. The fact she hadn’t was the real confirmation of how stupid she was.

  She drained her glass and poured another one. How come she’d reached the grand old age of almost twenty-eight (in two months) never having been in a real, long-term, serious relationship, and with no prospective husband on the horizon? Was it simply, as Elizabeth had kept assuring her for years, that she hadn’t yet met ‘the one’. Or could she unknowingly be giving off one of those auras that somehow made people, men in particular, keep their distance? What was the word for them? She took a big gulp of her wine, trying to concentrate. Pheromones, that was it. Her pheromones frightened men away. That could definitely be the problem. And probably her hormones too.

  Carrie stood up to go to the kitchen to get some food and promptly sat down again. Whoa. What on earth? She stared at the empty bottle. She couldn’t possibly have drunk the whole bottle on her own, surely? She never ever drank more than a glass or two with a meal. She’d skipped breakfast this morning too, so she’d been drinking on an empty stomach. No wonder her head did this funny reeling sensation thing every time she tried standing up on legs that refused to support her.

  As she sank back down onto the settee, she realised she was drunk for the first time in her life, and the only thing she could do now was try and sleep it off.

  *

  Karen was deadheading the roses in the front garden and thinking about Guy when Francesca appeared.

  ‘Morning, Mum,’ Francesca said, clutching a mug of tea and yawning as she collapsed onto the picnic bench. ‘You’re gardening early. You all right?’

  ‘Could ask you the same,’ Karen said. ‘Sleep okay?’

  Francesca nodded. ‘Yep. Just wanted to talk to you. Wills was saying something about Dad and the house when he picked me up last night. Seemed to think Dad was out of order.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘What’s that all about then? Wills said I had to ask you, he was staying out of it.’

  Karen smiled to herself. Francesca had always got straight to the point when something bothered her. She’d always been a daddy’s girl too and hated to hear any criticism of him, whether justified or not.

  ‘Dad’s put the house on the market. Says we need to downsize.’

  ‘The two of you do rattle around in it now,” Francesca said. ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘One of several problems is, he didn’t think to mention what he was doing to me,’ Karen said. ‘It’s the family home. Don’t you think I should have a say in whether we sell it or not?’

  ‘Suppose so. What are the other problems?’

  Karen took a deep breath. Where to begin? Discussing the state of her marriage with her daughter was not on the agenda.

  ‘Basically what happens after we’ve sold – where we go; what we buy. There are a couple of private things he and I need to talk about too,’ she said. ‘Which is difficult when he refuses to talk to me about anything.’

  ‘Hmm. D’you think he’s having a midlife crisis?’

  Francesca’s question surprised Karen. Had her daughter grown more insightful than she’d realised?

  ‘I don’t know. He hasn’t bought the Harley yet,’ she laughed, before adding quietly, ‘But I do think he has a mistress.’ Her secateurs cut viciously through a stem, the petals of a dying rose fluttering to the ground unnoticed.

  Karen sensed her last remark had shocked Francesca. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything until I knew for certain but, well, old habits die hard and I remember the signs from before.’

  ‘You mean Dad’s been unfaithful before?’

  Karen nodded.

  ‘Have you ever…?’

  ‘No, never,’ Karen said quickly.

  ‘When’s Dad coming down here?’

  Karen snapped another dead rose off its stem. ‘He’d normally be arriving at the end of this week but, as things stand, I’ve no idea whether he’s even coming down this year.’

  Francesca threw the dregs of her tea over the nearest flowerbed before standing up. ‘I’m going for a shower.’

  ‘Francesca, Uncle Chris and Auntie Sandra are arriving tonight, so please don’t say anything to them. I need to sort things out with Dad first.’

  ‘OK, but I’m jolly well going to ring Dad,’ Francesca said. ‘He needs to get his act in gear.’

  That should be an interesting conversation, Karen thought, watching Francesca go back into the house. Having his daughter on his case might make Derek more receptive to at least discussing things with her, but she doubted it. Karen snapped a final stem before taking a step back and surveying the rose bush in front of her – and discovered she hadn’t so much deadheaded it as pruned it to within two feet of the ground. If she hadn’t been so cross with herself, she’d have laughed.

  She glanced along the terrace, wondering about Guy. She hadn’t seen him in the two days since their river trip and hoped he was okay. Maybe later she’d wander along and knock on his door. She’d opened up to him about some of her plans for the future and her worries, but he’d barely talked about himself, even though it was clear he had his own problems. She had this feeling, too, that he was in desperate need of someone to talk to. If she could help, she would. Hearing the garden gate click she turned to see Guy himself.

  ‘Another early bird,’ she said, noticing his running gear. ‘Are you going or coming?’

  ‘Just run 5K.’

  ‘I’m about to make some coffee and toast – want some?’

  ‘Give me ten minutes to shower and chang
e out of this gear and I’ll be back,’ Guy said.

  By the time he returned, the coffee was brewed, Karen was placing toast in the rack and Francesca was sitting at the table.

  ‘Hi. I’m Francesca. You must be Guy. Mum says you’re an old friend.’

  ‘Hi. Thanks,’ he said as Karen placed a mug of coffee in front of him.

  ‘Are you an old friend of Dad’s too?’

  Guy shook his head. ‘No. I’m looking forward to meeting him soon, though.’

  ‘So what do you? Mum’s Mr Long-time Friend?’

  ‘At the moment I’m on a break,’ Guy said. ‘Re-evaluating things.’

  ‘Oh God, another man having a midlife crisis. You and Dad should have a lot to talk about. I’ll see you later, Mum.’ And with that Francesca got up and left.

  Karen sighed. ‘Sorry about my daughter’s attitude. Have some toast.’ She pushed the toast rack across the table to him before asking quietly, ‘Is that what you’re really doing? Re-evaluating your life?’

  Guy sighed. ‘It’s the only way I can think of putting it. So much has happened in the last eighteen months that’s completely thrown me off course. Things I never saw coming that on reflection I should have, and then there were life events I never expected to be involved in.’

  ‘I’m a good listener when and if you want to talk,’ Karen said.

  Guy reached across and took her hand. ‘I will talk to you and tell you everything soon, I promise. I don’t ever want any secrets between us. Meeting up with you again has been the best thing to happen to me for months. Gives me hope that life will be good again in the future, when I’ve put the recent past behind me.’

  Karen smiled and decided she’d better mention her brother. ‘Chris is arriving later today. What’s the betting you’ll be going down memory lane with him over a bottle or two?’

  ‘You don’t think he’s likely to give me that bloody nose for upsetting you all those years ago, do you?’

  ‘I’ll tell him all is forgiven so your nose will be safe,’ Karen said.