Summer at Coastguard Cottages

by Jennifer Bohnet

  Sighing, she bent down and placed the flowers on the grave before leaving the cemetery and walking through the village. Day-trippers were piling out of a coach – some eager to explore the castle, but mostly they were either making for the pub or heading off in the direction of the Ye Olde Castle Teashop that stood in its shadow.

  Carrie welcomed the cool air inside the pub after the heat of the morning as she pushed open the door.

  ‘Morning, my love,’ the woman behind the bar called out. ‘Nice to see you again.’

  Carrie ordered an iced coffee and a slice of lemon drizzle cake before making her way to the last available table in the window. No sign of Anthony, so, when the woman brought her order over, Carrie said, ‘The landlord isn’t around, is he?’

  ‘Be another ten minutes before he gets here. Can I help with anything?’

  ‘I just wanted to tell him I enjoyed his book,’ Carrie said.

  ‘He’ll be pleased to hear that. I’ll make sure I tell him to come and talk to you.’

  Sitting there, sipping her coffee and eating the cake, Carrie grew increasingly nervous as the minutes passed. Would Anthony Trumble even listen to her request – let alone respond? She finished her cake and was draining the last of her coffee when she heard ‘Over by the window... wants to tell you how much she enjoyed your book’, followed by what Carrie could only describe as a smothered snort. Clearly he wasn’t going to come and talk to her then. She pushed her coffee cup away, stood up and was preparing to leave when Anthony appeared with two coffees.

  ‘I didn’t order another one,’ she said.

  ‘This one is on the house,’ Anthony said, placing it on the table in front of her. ‘Sit.’ He pulled out the other chair for himself. ‘I’m sure you didn’t come just to congratulate me on my book,’ he said, looking at her. ‘I’m guessing you want to ask me some questions about Robert?’

  ‘I did enjoy your book actually, Mr Trumble, but you’re right – I would like to talk to you about Robert Trumble. I think you know who I am – in fact, I think you worked it out that first day we met. I’ve just read a letter Robert left me, and…’ She took a deep breath. ‘He seemed to think I should talk to you and you would answer any questions I had about... about him.’

  Anthony stirred his coffee.

  ‘So, Mr Trumble… Yes or no? Will you talk to me about your friend Robert and tell me everything you can?’ Carrie asked impatiently.

  ‘I’ll pick you up at 8.30 tomorrow morning and we’ll go for a drive and talk.’

  ‘Go for a drive with you? And why so early? Why can’t we talk here or you..?.’ Carrie said.

  ‘I can’t talk here, it’s too busy. It has to be early – I have a pub to run,’ Anthony interrupted her. ‘And before you say come to the house, I’d rather not talk there either. Too many memories of Robert.’ He stood up.

  ‘You’d better call me Tony if we’re going to be friends,’ he said over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving Carrie looking after him, open-mouthed and fuming.

  For him to simply assume she’d go who-knew-where for a drive with him early tomorrow morning she found arrogant beyond belief. As for calling him Tony, all she wanted was for him to tell her about this stranger who was her father. She had no intention of being friends with such a bumptious man.

  August

  Keep your face always towards the sunshine, and shadowswill fall behind you

  (Walt Whitman)

  Week One

  Bruce took Girly along to No. 3 the morning he and Karen planned to drive to the council offices to see what they could learn, if anything, about the plans for the development of the cottages.

  ‘I’ve no idea how long we’ll be,’ Bruce said, handing over the dog’s lead. ‘Probably a couple of hours at least.’

  ‘No worries. Girly and I can take a walk along the coastal path,’ Guy said. ‘I hope you get the answers you’re hoping for.’

  ‘You and me both,’ Bruce said. ‘See you later.’

  As he and Karen set off for town he glanced across at her, thinking she looked strained.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Chris and I argued this morning, and then Wills and Francesca joined in.’ She sighed. ‘I love my brother to bits but there are times when he’s… he’s a bit overbearing.’

  ‘What did you argue over? If it’s a private family matter you don’t have to tell me,’ he said.

  ‘I made the mistake of telling him about the house being up for sale – and that led on to the state of my marriage. I didn’t really appreciate until this morning just how much Chris really dislikes Derek. He definitely thinks I’m going to be a lot happier without him.’ Karen was silent as she stared hard at the passing countryside.

  ‘Francesca and Wills? What did they say?’

  ‘Francesca said she’d spoken to her father and told him to get over his midlife crisis and get down here to sort things out with me. Wills… well, Wills said he agreed with Chris in this instance. Derek might be his father but he feels he’s treated us all abominably.’ Karen sighed. ‘So now my children aren’t talking to each other, my brother is laying the law down about what I need to do to protect myself. And next week Derek arrives for a holiday. At least that’s what he said to Francesca. He hasn’t actually told me his plans yet.’

  Bruce, concentrating on his driving, was startled when Karen suddenly said, ‘D’you like Derek? Or d’you merely tolerate him too?’

  Bruce hesitated. He didn’t want to hurt or upset Karen but he’d never fudged the truth with her and he wasn’t about to start now. ‘On the occasions I do see him – which are few and far between really, just a few hours over a couple of weeks every summer – I’ve been able to shrug off any irritation I’ve felt. I have to be honest, though, and say Gabby never really liked him.’

  Bruce slowed down as they approached a roundabout, hoping his diplomatic reply would be enough for Karen. In truth, both he and Gabby had found Derek difficult to warm to.

  Karen was quiet for a few seconds before saying, ‘Talking of Gabby, it’s her birthday soon, when you plan to scatter her ashes. We need to discuss time and food. I was thinking about 7.30 on the beach and, after you’ve dealt with the ashes, back to The Captain’s House for a drink and food and then to yours for lowering the flag as the final mark of respect. Does that sound right to you? Or d’you want to lower the flag first and then food?’

  Bruce, concentrating on his driving, didn’t answer until he’d turned into the council office’s car park, and then he turned and faced Karen.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’m not sure I want to do things the way we talked about. Recently I’ve been thinking it would be better for me to scatter the ashes on my own, discreetly, rather than involve other people in the ritual.’ He looked anxiously at Karen. ‘What d’you think?’

  ‘I think whatever you want is what we’ll do,’ Karen said.

  ‘Gabby and I were married for twenty-seven years and we were a happy couple in the main, for the majority of the time – once we’d got over the impossibility of our ever having children. I think that time actually brought us closer together. As long as we had each other we were fine. We didn’t need anyone else, although Gabby was, as you know, very sociable. So I think it would be fitting for me to say my final goodbye to her privately. But I’d still like to have everybody raise a glass in Gabby’s memory back at the cottages and lower the flag in her honour.’

  ‘So, a normal lowering of the flag at The Bosun’s Locker, and then along the terrace to me for a “bit of a do” in memory of Gabby. Are you sure about driving down to Slapton on your own? I’m happy to come and keep you company and wait in the car.’

  ‘Thanks for the offer but I’ll be fine,’ Bruce said.

  ‘Right, now we’ve sorted that, let’s go and see if we can get some answers from the council,’ Karen said.

  The planning department was busy and, despite having an appointment, they had to wait twenty minutes before they co
uld talk to an official. A quick look through current outline planning applications showed nothing listed for the coastguard cottages.

  ‘If somebody does apply speculatively to turn the cottages into one large hotel, is it something the council would view positively and grant permission?’ Bruce asked.

  ‘Unlikely. That particular row of cottages isn’t Grade 2 listed but it certainly comes under the protection of heritage rules.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ Karen said smiling. ‘One other thing…’ And she quickly explained her own ideas for The Captain’s House. ‘Can I do that or do I need planning permission?’

  The official pulled a wallet of papers out of a desk drawer. ‘Have one of these. It will explain everything you need to know and have to do.’

  Back outside Karen said, ‘Well, that’s one worry out of the way.’

  Bruce nodded absently. ‘Mmm. But the developers would have discovered that before they started throwing large sums of money into the pot. There has to be something else going on.’

  ‘Did any of your contacts come up with anything when you asked around?’ Karen said.

  Bruce shook his head. ‘Not yet but I’ve a couple more to ring. I’m hoping they’ll have some information before the AGM.’

  *

  Although Carrie was ready and waiting when Anthony arrived to collect her at exactly 8.30, she was still unhappy with his high-handed attitude and greeted him curtly.

  ‘Morning. Just how long are we going to be out? I’ve got a hundred and one things to do.’

  Anthony stared at her as he opened the Land Rover door. ‘We don’t have to go at all if you’ve decided not to quiz me about Robert, but it will be a long time before I offer again to answer your questions. We’ll be back by midday at the latest. I’ve got a pub to run, remember? So are we going or not?’

  Carrie glared at him and climbed into the front passenger seat. The small terrier she’d seen the day she’d met Anthony gave her a sniffy welcome and surprised her by climbing onto her lap.

  Quarter of an hour later they were on the outskirts of Ivybridge, driving up through Harford and approaching Dartmoor.

  ‘I’ll do the gate,’ Carrie offered as they stopped in front of a closed wooden gate across the narrow lane barring the entrance to the moor.

  Anthony merely nodded and lifted the terrier, Lola, off her lap. The gate latch was stiff and Carrie struggled before she realised the secret was to lift and push at the same time. After Anthony had driven through she pushed the gate hard, making sure it closed properly.

  Once parked up in the designated area, Anthony clipped Lola’s lead on and they set off, with Carrie wondering where exactly they were heading. Anthony clearly didn’t believe in making small talk and she didn’t bother trying, just took in the ruggedness and the vast open space of the moor surrounding her.

  Ten minutes’ brisk walking brought them to an outcrop of rocks – which Anthony insisted they climb. ‘The view is amazing.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Carrie said, looking around her as she collapsed onto one of the rocks. ‘But I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me all the way up here to talk about Robert.’

  ‘I wanted somewhere neutral. I know it sounds ridiculous but I find it difficult talking to you about Robert in his house and we were likely to be interrupted at the pub. Robert loved spending time up here. Said an hour spent on the moor was one of the most calming yet invigorating things he ever did. Concentrated his mind like nowhere else.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Carrie said. ‘It feels like time has stood still here. It’s wonderful.’

  ‘Robert wasn’t a great walker but he loved being up here on the moor. Throwing sticks for this mutt when there weren’t any sheep about,’ Anthony said.

  ‘Lola was Robert’s dog? That explains the dog basket in the study,’ Carrie said, looking at Anthony.

  He nodded. ‘I forgot to pick it up. Like me, she missed Robert so much in the beginning that I spoilt her and let her sleep on my bed. Don’t think she’d have any truck with the basket now.’

  ‘That was good of you to take on Robert’s dog,’ Carrie said, hiding her surprise at the revelation. ‘Not many people would do that willingly.’

  ‘Least I could do,’ Anthony said. ‘Robert might have been old enough to be my father too, but he was more like a big brother to me really.’

  Sitting there, watching the Dartmoor ponies in the distance and a flock of sheep down by the path, Carrie’s mind began drifting. Drifting away from the stress of her legacy, the stress of Dom, the worries about upsetting people. She found herself relaxing and breathing deeper than she had for weeks. She came to with a start, realising Anthony was talking to her.

  ‘So, what d’you want to ask me about Robert?’

  ‘Not sure really,’ she said. ‘Any little quirks he had that I might have inherited? Do I look like him in any way? Did he ever talk about finding me?’

  ‘Not sure about quirks. He didn’t suffer fools gladly and I get the feeling you’re like that too. You do have a certain look of him, particularly when you’re cross and narrow your eyes at me. How are you with crowds? Robert hated crowds, but he loved a good party.’

  ‘Whereas I’m not much of a party girl but I’m with him on crowds.’

  ‘In the weeks before he died he did say he wished he’d been able to meet you,’ Anthony said.

  ‘Truly?’ Carrie turned to look at him. Anthony nodded.

  ‘There was a P.S. on his letter to me.’ Carrie hesitated for a second. ‘He said you knew the name and address of my mother.’

  ‘Ah, I wondered when you’d mention that. Robert asked me not to tell you I knew unless you mentioned it.’ He turned to face her. ‘You want to meet her?’

  Carrie took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure. I love my parents to bits and I know the whole of this unexpected connection with Robert is hard for them, but he’s dead, so they know I’m not going to be torn between him and Malcolm. Meeting my mother, though, would probably cause Elizabeth unnecessary hurt.’

  Carrie stared into the distance. ‘But there are questions I’d like to ask her – about her relationship with Robert and why neither of them wanted me.’ She closed her eyes. ‘But the sensible part of me says I’d simply be stirring up things from the past that could hurt numerous people – not least my birth mother if she’s married and has a family.’ Carrie stopped. ‘I could have siblings out there. I hadn’t thought about that before.’

  Anthony reached into a jacket pocket and brought out a photo. Carrie registered it was a copy of the group one on the piano in the house. He fingered it thoughtfully before speaking. ‘That picture of a young woman you showed me as I was leaving the other day? I lied when I said I didn’t know who it was. I wasn’t ready for the conversation you would have wanted. That picture is of your mother as a young woman, and this is her last year.’ He pointed to the women in the centre of the group photo.

  ‘She and her husband have one of the coastguard cottages along the coast as a holiday home.’

  ‘What’s her name?’ Carrie asked quietly.

  ‘Her name is... hey, where are you going?’ Anthony said in surprise as Carrie leapt to her feet.

  ‘That sheep’s cry isn’t right. Look – there’s a sheep in trouble down there. It’s on its back and can’t get up,’ Carrie shouted as she scrambled off the rocks and ran down towards the stream. ‘We have to get it back on its feet otherwise it’ll die. Thank goodness Lola is on a lead.’

  Reaching the tired, pathetically bleating sheep, Carrie bent down and, grabbing its legs, pulled the ewe slowly onto her belly before placing her hands under her side and gently pushing her upright. Once on her feet, Carrie watched as she wobbled, regaining her balance, before bleating a call out to the rest of the flock and trotting off without so much as a glance at Carrie to rejoin the flock that had wandered away.

  ‘Impressive,’ Anthony said. ‘Not many people would know how to do that.’

  �
�I grew up on a farm,’ Carrie said.

  ‘And I had you down as a townie who liked zippy, show-off cars.’

  ‘You got that wrong then, didn’t you?’ Carrie said. ‘I need a “zippy” car, as you put it, for emergencies in my job.’

  ‘Which is?’

  She could have made him guess, but she wasn’t in the mood to play games so she simply said, ‘I’m a vet. Shall we make our way to the car and head back now?’

  The journey back was as silent as the outward one. Once again Lola sat on Carrie’s lap and she absent-mindedly stroked her. Her thoughts, though, were centred around the fact that she now knew what both her biological parents looked like, that her mother was, in all probability, in her holiday home right now, and that she could go and see her if she wanted.

  It wasn’t until after Anthony had dropped her at the house and driven away that she realised he’d never told her the name of her mother or the location of her holiday coastguard cottage. Damn that pesky sheep.

  *

  Karen was busy doing some mundane housework, planning to join Hazel down by the pool afterwards, when Girly made an unexpected appearance in the sitting room with Guy at the end of her lead.

  Karen laughed. ‘What are you two up to?’

  ‘Girly’s taking me for a walk and she wondered if you’d like to join us?’ Guy said. ‘She’s heard the cream teas at the café in the village are the best and needs to find out for herself.’

  ‘Sounds like a good plan,’ Karen said, stroking Girly’s head. ‘I’d love to.’ Five minutes later they were strolling down the hill in the direction of the village.

  ‘Charlie down this week?’ Karen said, wanting to ask him if he was any closer to ‘re-evaluating his life’, as he’d told Francesca he was doing. However, not sure he was ready to talk yet, she settled for a less personal question.