Summer at Coastguard Cottages

by Jennifer Bohnet

  ‘Yep. Hoping he’s going to have some news for me. Just a couple of things I need his advice on,’ Guy added as he saw Karen glance at him. ‘Right now, though, I think I should have checked the weather forecast. It’s turning overcast and oppressive.’

  ‘They do look a bit ominous,’ Karen said, looking at the grey clouds gathering in the sky over the headland. ‘Sea’s a bit rough too,’ she added, glancing at the waves with their white horses dancing on the crests.

  ‘Definitely rain in the air,’ Guy said.

  ‘Maybe we ought to turn back,’ Karen said. ‘We’re not halfway yet.’

  Guy shook his head. ‘We’ll walk faster and with luck we’ll make it to the café, and by the time we leave, it will have passed.’

  ‘You always were an optimist,’ Karen said.

  ‘There is that but I really, really fancy a cream tea, so come on.’ Catching hold of her hand he started to walk faster and faster, until Karen was running to keep up with him and Girly was barking in excitement. Then the rain started. Gentle small drops at first but within minutes they were big and falling fast.

  ‘Quick. We’ll wait here until the worst of it passes,’ said Guy, making for the shelter of a large oak tree at the side of the lane.

  ‘Looking at that sky we could be in for a long wait,’ Karen said, trying to get her breath back.

  ‘That’s OK by me. I’m quite happy standing here like this. How about you?’

  ‘Just so long as there isn’t any thunder and lightning,’ Karen said. ‘Wouldn’t want to stand here then.’

  ‘Me, I love a good storm,’ Guy said, putting his arm around her shoulders. ‘I agree this wouldn’t be a good place to shelter then, but right now I think it’s perfect. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Apart from the rain, there’s one slight problem, though,’ Karen said.

  ‘I can’t think of one,’ Guy said, pulling her closer.

  ‘That’s because it’s not your legs Girly has bound together by weaving the lead around them. I can’t move.’

  ‘In that case I shall seize my chance,’ Guy said, pulling her closer and kissing her.

  It was five minutes before they noticed the clouds had passed, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining.

  ‘I’m not sure we should have done that,’ Karen said. ‘We’re both still married. So if you’d like to untangle Girly and the lead, we’ll go home and try to forget about it.’

  ‘That, my darling Karen, is going to be impossible,’ Guy said. ‘So I’m not even going to try.’

  *

  Carrie sat back on her heels and regarded the small patch of flowerbed it had taken her an hour to weed. Unable to settle in the house after Anthony had dropped her back, she’d found a waterproof coat complete with hood hanging on the hall stand hook, and ventured outside despite the mizzle that had started and was making everything damp.

  She’d always found it easier to think outside, the fresh air seeming to unclog her brain. As a farmer’s daughter she was used to being outside in all kinds of weather and Elizabeth had instilled her own love of gardening in her. Before she’d left home for university and veterinary school, she and Elizabeth had spent hours together in the flower garden at the farm, leaving the vegetable patch to Malcolm. These days, living over the practice, she was restricted to a few houseplants, but whenever she went home she always went for a wander around the garden on her own or with Elizabeth, checking on how things were doing.

  Wandering around Robert’s garden she realised how neglected it looked. Roses were in full bloom on bushes that should have been pruned back in the autumn, the two lawns needed cutting and the flowerbeds were being choked by weeds. Knowing roses liked their root areas clear, she’d instinctively dropped to her knees and started to pull the invasive goose grass out. It would take several hours of weed-pulling, though, before the long border was clear.

  Realising the fine mizzle had changed to a more determined drizzle, Carrie got to her feet. The rain would soften the ground and make the weeds easier to pull out tomorrow. Meanwhile she’d check out the small outbuilding at the back of the house, where hopefully she’d find some gardening equipment.

  Opening the outbuilding door and stepping inside, Carrie caught her breath. Robert had either clearly loved gardening or had employed a regular gardener to use all these tools. A sit-on mower for the large lawns, a strimmer, a large petrol lawnmower, rakes, shovels, forks, seed trays, a large table for potting things up on. It was a veritable Mr McGregor’s shed. Maybe her love of gardening was in her genes rather than simply being a case of spending her childhood with Elizabeth, who had instilled a love of nature in her? She’d have to ask Anthony next time she saw him, whether Robert had been a keen gardener.

  Anthony. Hmm. She couldn’t quite make up her mind about him. One minute he was being nice to her, the next downright rude. Robert had clearly been fond of him, liking and trusting him enough to confide in him about her. And Anthony seemed to have genuine feelings for Robert. Had he nurtured the father/son relationship that had developed between them for reasons of his own? What about Anthony’s own father? His mother? Were they still alive? Carrie tried to remember whether Anthony had mentioned either of his parents in conversation with her, and couldn’t.

  The rattle of rain hitting the tin roof made her jump. There would be no more gardening for a few hours at least. Time to go indoors and make herself some lunch and wait for the weather to get back on track.

  Her mobile rang as she hung the coat back on its hook on the hall stand.

  ‘Mum. I was planning on ringing you later. Everything all right?’

  ‘Fine here. How about you?’

  Carrie took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t upset her mum with what she was about to tell her.

  ‘I wanted to ask you – would you mind if I contacted my birth mother?’

  There was a slight pause at the other end and in her mind’s eye Carrie could see Elizabeth struggling to compose her words and say the right thing.

  ‘D’you know where she lives now?’

  ‘I’ve met someone who does,’ Carrie said. ‘She has a holiday cottage quite close. Mum, you’re my mum, nothing is going to change that, but this whole legacy business has taken the lid off my life and given it a shake and I find I do have some questions I’d like to ask after all.’

  ‘Well, then, you must go and see her.’

  ‘What if she’s got a family of her own now? Maybe she’s never told her husband about me?’

  ‘There is that risk. Is there any way you can go and suss out the situation before you approach her?’

  ‘Maybe. I’ll ask Anthony what he thinks.’

  ‘Anthony?’

  ‘He’s the neighbour who has the address.’

  ‘Be careful, darling girl. Sometimes the consequences of our actions can come back to haunt us.’

  ‘I will, Mum. I’ll have a good think about it before I do anything. I just needed to know you wouldn’t be hurt if I did. I’ll probably change my mind anyway. You know what I’m like.’

  Even as she said goodbye to Elizabeth, Carrie knew saying there was a possibility she’d change her mind was a lie. The decision had already been taken. She just needed to get the name and address from Anthony.

  She waited until four o’clock in the hope that the pub would be quieter and he’d be able to talk to her before tapping the number into her phone. Anthony answered within three rings. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Anthony, it’s Carrie. There were a couple of things you didn’t finish telling me this morning. My mother’s name and her address. I’ve decided I’d like to go and see her so could you tell me now, please?’

  ‘You want to go and see her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll take you. She and her husband will remember me from the ball last year and not be so suspicious of you turning up out of the blue.’

  ‘No need for you to do that. I’m not going to barge in and upset her. I thought I’d go incognito first in
case… in case she’s not alone.’

  ‘I’ll still take you.’

  ‘I thought you had a pub to run,’ Carrie said.

  ‘I do, but I think you need somebody on your side, and that person clearly has to be me. Besides, Robert instructed me to look after you if you ever turned up. I’ll arrange a part-timer to stand in for me and let you know when we can go.’

  Her protest was cut off by the dialling tone.

  Crossly, Carrie flung her phone down onto the settee. Why did this man exasperate her so much? Helping her was one thing. Taking charge and ordering her around was another.

  *

  Guy listened to the sound of the vacuum being pushed around downstairs by Joy as he stripped his bed and took his stuff through to the back bedroom. Charlie was due later and he could hardly deprive him of the best bedroom in his own house.

  He was looking forward to having Charlie around for a couple of weeks. Friends since university, Charlie was the closest thing he had to a brother. Wherever he’d been in the world, Charlie had been one of two people he always kept in touch with. The other had been his mum.

  Pulling sheets and towels out of the airing cupboard, Guy wondered if Charlie was bringing his current girlfriend with him. Selfishly, he hoped not. He’d hate to find himself being cast in the role of spare man at a love-in. Moving out would be his only option then and he didn’t want to leave the cottage just yet; it had turned out to be the perfect place for him to recuperate this summer. He was sleeping better – down to one or two nightmares a week now rather than every other night – and he was getting his drinking back under control.

  Plus, meeting up again with Karen was proving to be a turning point in his plans for the future. He hadn’t intended to kiss her the other day, hadn’t needed the reminder they were both married, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since. He’d sensed that both of them had held back, but despite that, it had been a kiss full of longing.

  It reinforced his conviction that he’d made the mistake of his life when he’d deliberately decided not to contact her after that long-ago summer. Life would have been so different if only he’d followed his true instincts. Not been such a monumental prat in believing he wasn’t good enough for her. Turned out it was Derek Weston who hadn’t been good enough. All the signs were there that the marriage was over, and Guy had every intention of being there for her as she came to terms with things. No way was he ready to move on before summer was over. What he was now ready to do, though, was sort out the mess Melissa had created in his life.

  All these months of trying to reason with her gently, hoping that once the healing process kicked in she would begin to look at things objectively and agree they had no future together, hadn’t worked. It was time to harden up and get the message across. Charlie had said Melissa sounded better, but was she better enough? The letter currently sitting on the table, ready to post, told her, almost in words of one syllable as he’d tried to spell it out as clearly as he could, why there was no going back. Writing the letter had been a therapeutic positive step forward for him, but as the time came for posting it, he couldn’t help the guilty feelings seeping back into his mind. He knew it was a letter that would hurt her. She’d regard it as another body blow. But he couldn’t go on giving her false hope.

  Right, enough domesticity. He’d leave Joy to put the finishing touches to the cottage while he went for a run and posted the letter en route. Closing the gate to the cottages, he could hear the sounds of tennis balls being whacked down on the court. Briefly he wondered about another game of tennis with Karen. He’d ask her tomorrow.

  When he got back from his run Charlie had arrived and was sitting on the top terrace step, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, a glass of wine in his hand.

  ‘You know what, mate? This is the best view in the world,’ he said. ‘Beer’s in the fridge. Come and join me and tell me all the gossip.’

  Guy fetched a beer and joined Charlie on the steps.

  ‘So what’s new?’ Charlie said.

  Guy hesitated, not sure how Charlie would react to what he’d done.

  ‘Heard from Melissa again?’ he said, delaying the moment.

  ‘You mean after the tearful conversation when she professed not to understand why you couldn’t forgive her and get back together?’ Charlie said. ‘No. Other than she’s back in France in her old apartment.’

  ‘That’s good. Not least because that’s the address I sent my last letter to earlier this afternoon.’ Guy lifted the bottle and took a swig. ‘I’m praying she’ll read it and finally accept that there really is no going back, even though I might have been tempted once, when I felt sorry for her and the way things had turned out.’

  ‘You don’t feel sorry for her now?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but at the end of the day, we both have to move on. It was Melissa who walked out on me. I’m not the guilty one.’

  ‘And are you moving on?’

  Guy nodded. ‘Yes. Not sure yet about… about certain things, but coming back here is the best thing that’s happened to me in recent years.’

  Charlie shifted on the step and looked at him. ‘Coming back here? Something you’ve not told me?’

  ‘Guilty as charged. When I realised where your cottage was I almost didn’t come because of something that happened years ago. I stayed here in the cottages when I was a teenager with my parents and… I met someone then I should have kept in my life.’ Guy gazed out at sea silently for several seconds. ‘I didn’t for one moment expect there to be anyone still around from those days, but...’

  ‘You’re talking about Karen Weston, aren’t you?’ Charlie interrupted.

  ‘How did you work that out? I didn’t say it was anyone from the cottages, but yes, it’s Karen.’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘Her family have owned The Captain’s House for years. The only other person who’s been here almost as long is Bruce, and his wife died recently.’ He downed the rest of his beer. ‘I wish you all the best, mate. She’s a lovely lady but she’s married. I can’t stand her husband. No idea how she’s managed to stay with him so long.’

  ‘Her marriage is on the rocks – and no, I’m not the catalyst. But I do aim to be around to pick up the pieces,’ Guy said. ‘If she’ll let me.’

  *

  Traditionally, the AGM of the Management Committee of the Coastguard Cottages was held in The Captain’s House as it could hold more people comfortably than any of the smaller cottages. This year the only cottage not represented by an owner was No. 4, which meant at least a dozen people had crowded into the sitting room on the afternoon of the meeting, all anxious to have their say.

  It was a meeting that started off full of tension in the lead-up to ‘Any Other Business’ when the buy-out offer was formally, and a tad heatedly, discussed. Karen’s breathing levelled out only after the matter had been voted upon. That was that then.

  After seeing everyone out, Karen took her time clearing away the glasses and plates after the impromptu party that always happened after the AGM. Thoughtfully, she placed the file of management committee papers in the drawer. Hazel would type up the minutes and bring them round in the next week, and then the file could stay there untouched until next year. She picked up the yearly maintenance charge cheques and filled in the bank paying-in book. She’d drop them off at the bank when she next went into town.

  When everybody had unanimously agreed that the buy-out offer should be rejected she’d wanted to punch the air in delight. It was, she knew, down to Bruce’s contact who had given him the lowdown on the developers.

  ‘Basically they’re a bunch of cowboys,’ he’d said. ‘They speculatively buy up properties in good locations all over the country and when planning permission is refused for redevelopment, they simply let the properties rot – with a little help, of course. Burst pipes, roofs collapsing, the occasional fire, etcetera. Buildings are eventually demolished and they reapply for planning on the now-empty site.’ Everybody had agreed no way
would they want that to happen to the cottages.

  ‘Everybody else off doing their own thing?’

  Startled, she looked up to see Guy standing in the doorway.

  ‘Charlie said you and Chris were off to have a bit of a boy’s night out,’ Karen said.

  ‘Later. Fancy a game of tennis?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve got the energy right now for tennis,’ Karen said. ‘To be honest, all I was planning on doing was sitting in the garden for a while and watching the sea. With a celebratory glass of wine.’ Thinking about a future here in The Captain’s House would also be on her mind but she didn’t voice the thought.

  ‘Sounds a much better idea. Mind if I join you?’

  Five minutes later they were sitting side by side in the wooden arbour in a sheltered corner of the garden, its trellis sides and roof covered with sweet-smelling jasmine.

  Karen sighed. ‘I remember my dad building this. I loved curling up here in the evenings to read. Something I never seem to have time to do these days.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘So many memories. I couldn’t have borne losing The Captain’s House as well as everything else that’s going on.’ She brushed a tear away. ‘Sorry, bit sentimental.’

  Guy didn’t speak for several seconds but then he said, ‘You’d have your memories whatever happened. Memories, even horrible ones you wish you could strip out of your mind – they all survive.’

  Karen stilled, silencing her instinctive reply that she wanted the bricks and mortar as well as the memories, sensing Guy was speaking from experience. Was about to open up to her.

  ‘Personally, I wish I could get rid of certain memories, but however deep I try to bury them, they bounce back. Usually at two o’clock in the morning.’

  Tentatively Karen put her hand on his and he took it and squeezed. Guy’s next words were spoken so quietly, she had to strain to hear them.

  ‘I was caught up in the 2016 Bastille Day atrocity in Nice.’

  Karen closed her eyes. The TV pictures and videos had been horrific enough. Once seen they were certainly never forgotten. She couldn’t imagine actually being caught up in the horror of it.