‘That arrangement leaves you with zilch, though, mate.’
‘I know, but we were together a long time and it was good in the beginning. The last couple of years have been difficult for her. I hope it helps her get back on her feet financially. Me – I’m just happy to get my life back.’
‘Karen saw Melissa’s car this afternoon,’ Charlie said.
‘Damn. I was hoping she and Hazel would be late back and miss it. How was she? Ask any questions?’
‘Disappeared when she heard you were out walking with Melissa.’
‘I’ll go and talk to her first thing,’ Guy said, getting up. ‘Tell her I can think about the future now. I can hear a motorbike with our pizzas. I’ll go get them.’
*
‘It’s even more beautiful here in real life than in the photos you sent,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Carrie, love, you can’t sell this house.’
It was the first day of Elizabeth and Malcolm’s visit and the three of them were sitting in the garden, or rather Carrie and Elizabeth were sitting; Malcolm was pottering around, pulling a few stray weeds out of the flowerbeds by the stream. He’d never been very good at sitting doing nothing. Carrie looked at her mum.
‘I’ve come to the same conclusion, but is moving down and opening my own veterinary practice the right thing to do?’ Carrie shook her head. ‘It’s such a huge step – and I’ve missed not having you around the last couple of weeks.’
‘I know, but really, it’s only a two-hour drive and once you’ve moved and settled into a proper routine we can visit more. As for having your own practice. I know you’ve always dreamt of that since you were little. You have to follow your dreams, Carrie, especially now that, thanks to Robert Trumble, you’ve been given the means to try.’
‘Any chance of you moving closer when Dad retires?’ Carrie asked.
Elizabeth nodded. ‘We’ve talked about it – might even venture into a few estate agents this visit. See what’s available.’
‘This house is big enough for all of us,’ Carrie said. Having her parents living close by, or even with her, would be good.
‘You mean, move in with you?’ Elizabeth shook her head. ‘That’s something that’s not going to happen. There’s close and there’s too close.’
‘Could be a temporary solution, though, if you need it. Oh, hello, Lola,’ she said as the dog tore through the garden towards her and jumped onto her lap. ‘Tony must be here.’
A few seconds later, when Tony appeared, Carrie stared at him. Used to seeing him in tidy but old jeans and T-shirts for working in the pub, she looked in surprise at his cream chinos and lightweight denim shirt.
‘You’re looking smart. Are you off somewhere?’ she said.
‘No, I just thought I needed to make a bit more of an effort today seeing as I was meeting your parents for the first time. Didn’t want them to think I was a slob. Are you going to introduce me then?’
‘Mum, Dad, this is Anthony Trumble. Runs the local pub and… is a good friend.’ Why did it matter what kind of impression he made on her parents?
‘Prefer to be called Tony,’ he said, shaking hands with her parents before putting his hand in a pocket and pulling out a key. ‘Thought you might want to show your parents around the practice? You can give me the key back when you come for lunch.’
‘Thanks,’ Carrie said. ‘See you later then.’
‘That’s Tony?’ Elizabeth said. ‘Not what I was expecting from what you’d told me. He’s nice.’
From the knowing way her mum was looking at her, Carrie guessed she was waiting for her to say something.
‘Yes, he is nice, and very kind. He’s turned out to be a real friend.’
‘Mmm, it’s good to have friends like that,’ Elizabeth said, smiling.
‘Mum, stop it. That’s all he is. A very good friend. His mum’s lovely too. If you’re lucky, I’ll introduce you later when we go to the village. You’ll like her.’
Later that morning, as Carrie unlocked the practice door and showed her parents around, she found herself thinking about Tony. Since the incident with the pub’s dishwasher, she’d seen a different side to him. He’d certainly gone out of his way to help her. For weeks now there hadn’t been any sign of the bolshie man she’d met the day she arrived in the village.
While Carrie and Elizabeth did a thorough inspection of rooms, cupboards and the small amount of equipment still in situ, Malcolm wandered around outside.
As Carrie studied the mechanism of the examination table in what was clearly the main surgery room, trying to work out how the height could be adjusted, Elizabeth said, ‘Are you going to go back to the cottages and speak to Gabby’s husband?’
‘No. I did think about it but then decided it wasn’t fair on him. I don’t think Gabby ever told him about me. I feel sorry for him, and going back wanting to talk about her would cause him pain. Tony and his mum have each told me different things about my father so I’ll settle for that.’
Malcolm came back in at that moment. ‘Building’s in good shape. Only needs a coat of paint outside to spruce it up. I can do that for you. No point in paying out. Painters cost a fortune these days.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Carrie said, hugging him. ‘Come on, let’s get to the pub. Lunch calls.’ No point in reminding him that these days, courtesy of Robert Trumble, she could afford to pay any number of painters.
Week Four
Karen picked up one of the magazines she’d bought in Dartmouth and, taking her morning coffee, went through and curled up on the cushion in the bay window of the sitting room to read it. Out at sea there were white horses dancing on the waves and several yachts were catching the wind to plough through them. On the distant horizon she could see a cruise ship making slow passage down the Channel as a container ship headed in the opposite direction to one of the large ports, Southampton maybe.
Hard to believe it was the last week of summer. A summer that had been different in so many ways – good and bad. It was a summer she’d always remember as the one heralding the end of her marriage to Derek.
A marriage that had been celebrated here. Married at a local church, the reception had been held in a marquee erected in the garden. The sun had shone, the garden looked wonderful, and everyone had told her she looked beautiful. She’d innocently believed the vows they’d both taken that day had been made in all sincerity and would be kept. At least she could hold her head up high, knowing she’d kept the promises she’d made that day.
Next week, if this had been a normal summer, she’d be heading home feeling rejuvenated after her holiday at The Captain’s House; instead, she was staying on to face an uncertain future. Would Guy be a part of that future? Twenty-four hours had passed since Melissa had shown up and then departed. She’d heard the car leave and had waited for Guy to come and tell her what was going on, but he hadn’t.
There had been no sign of him down at the pool, or leaving for a run either. He seemed to have disappeared. A sudden thought struck her. Had he left in the car with Melissa? No, Guy wouldn’t have done that. He’d have come to find her first to explain what had happened before he left. Wouldn’t he?
Finishing her coffee she jumped up, took her new notebook off the table and went upstairs to her bedroom. Going over and over things in her mind was a waste of time. She needed to get on with things. Get organised.
Standing in the bedroom, she surveyed it critically. She loved this room; had gone to a lot of trouble to decorate and furnish it exactly as she wanted. Was it good enough, though, for a boutique B&B?
According to the magazines she’d bought, people expected to indulge in over-the-top luxury these days on their holidays. Everything in this room was good quality but certainly not top-of-the-range luxurious. The carpet was a pale cream, and the toile de jouy curtains and matching duvet cover on the king-sized bed gave the room a French feel, Karen had always thought. The shabby chic Lloyd Loom chair by the window was ideally placed for sitting and admiring the view. The en-suite b
athroom had marble tiles, a free-standing bath and a large shower cabinet. No gold taps, though – another essential according to the magazines.
Surely, though, people would prefer to stay somewhere they felt comfortable? Somewhere to relax. Karen knew she would. Maybe that was the kind of ambience she should aim for, instead of ostentatious luxury. Intimate and welcoming. Rather than change the basics of the rooms, which were already good, she’d add a few upmarket accessories – large Egyptian cotton white fluffy towels, dressing gowns, Jo Malone products in the bathroom, champagne to welcome people. Add a touch of decadence. Things like that always made a difference. She’d need to provide tea-making facilities too, and a safe in each room, plus a TV. It went without saying the rooms would be non-smoking.
The second bedroom had Chris and Sandra’s things in it, but basically it would need the same kind of things to lift it from the ordinary and comfortable to the unexpected and desirous. At the end of the day, though, it was going to be a B&B, not an hotel.
Back downstairs in the sitting room, she started to make a list of the things she needed to organise and buy. It covered two full pages of her notebook and she began to dread how much it was all going to cost.
She jumped as she heard the kitchen door open. ‘Wills? Guy?’ When nobody answered she went through to the empty kitchen. Weird – she was sure someone had come in. A piece of paper on the kitchen table caught her eye.
‘Dinner tonight. Posh dress required. Taxi arranged for 7.30. L. Guy xx’
Karen smiled. Guy hadn’t disappeared with Melissa. He was still here and she was seeing him – tonight of all nights.
*
It took Bruce less than ten minutes’ research on the internet to find the name of the village where Tony Trumble’s pub was located. There were a few other Trumbles listed in the online directory for the village, but Robert Trumble’s name wasn’t among them. Carrie Penfold’s name and address hadn’t yet replaced him on the street register.
The village was about half an hour’s drive away, he reckoned, and should be easy enough to find with the aid of the sat nav in his car. He’d go tomorrow morning. First he needed to collect a few things together, some to simply show to Carrie and some for her to keep if she wanted.
Engrossed in sorting things out and placing them in boxes, Guy startled him when he tapped on the terrace door.
‘You’re looking very smart tonight,’ he said. ‘Off somewhere special?’
‘Taking Karen out to dinner. Wanted to tell you we’ll miss sundowner tonight.’
‘Not a problem – enjoy dinner. Taking Karen somewhere special?’
When Guy told him the name of the restaurant he pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. ‘Very nice. I took Gabby there last year. Really good food.’ He looked at Guy. ‘Gabby was good friends with Karen and I’m very fond of her too. She doesn’t need any more aggro in her life. If you hurt her, you’ll not only have Chris on your case but me as well. She’s too special a lady to mess about with.’
‘Stupidly, I didn’t realise just how special she was to me, thirty years ago, and I let her go. I’ve already told her I’m not about to make the same mistake again,’ Guy said. ‘The taxi will be here in a minute, so I’d better go. I’ll leave you to your boxes.’
‘I read Gabby’s diary the other evening,’ Bruce said quietly. ‘Reading about the despair she felt having to give Carrie away, her mistake in not confiding in me…’ He sighed. ‘Let’s just say it made me realise you and Karen were right telling me I ought to contact Carrie and talk to her about Gabby. Tomorrow I’m going to see if I can find her. Take a few of Gabby’s things.’
‘I’m sure you won’t regret going,’ Guy said. ‘Have you found the address?’
Bruce shook his head. ‘First stop will be the Trumble Arms, where I hope I’ll be pointed in the right direction.’
‘D’you want any moral support? I’m happy to come with you if you’d like me to.’
Bruce shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’
After Guy left, Bruce went upstairs and got the journals and diary. He’d take them to show Carrie and possibly leave the journals with her, but he wasn’t sure about handing over the diary with its baby photo just yet.
*
Karen stood in front of her wardrobe wondering how posh was posh in Guy’s book? Should she wear a safe little black dress that would take her anywhere? Or something more summery and pretty? Something glamorous even?
She pulled out the new scarlet sheath dress with its lace bolero she’d originally bought because she’d fallen in love with it, telling herself she’d wear it on a special occasion. The label was still attached to its neckline.
Derek had always convinced her she looked better in pale, washed-out colours. Beige or grey. Background colours really, which was where he’d tried to keep her: in the background of his life. Her favourite colour, red, was deemed too brash, too tarty, by him. He’d never even seen this dress. The few pieces she possessed in the colour were worn when Derek was away, and she’d always felt her spirits lift. Red was such a vibrant, happy colour.
Having dinner with Guy tonight had all the makings of a special occasion. Was it time to wear the dress? The sales girl in the trendy boutique had earnestly assured her it ‘was totally her’ when she’d been anxious about it being too young for her. Slipping it over her head now, Karen wondered about that phrase, totally you. How many times a day was that phrase uttered to clients to secure a sale?
Standing in front of the mirror, Karen realised the woman looking back at her reminded her of a younger, different version of herself. A version that had disappeared down the years. She would definitely wear this dress tonight and red was a colour that was coming back into her wardrobe. She was going to dress like that elusive ‘totally you’ from now on.
She knew she’d chosen the right dress when Guy arrived and, looking at her, said simply, ‘Wow. You look amazing tonight.’
‘Thank you. You’re looking, Francesca would say, hot, but me, I think you look cool!’
Guy laughed. ‘Come on. Taxi’s outside.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Wait and see.’
Sitting in the back of the taxi as it made its way along the coastal road, Karen smiled as Guy took her hand and held it tightly. No conversation was necessary; they were both enjoying being together and looking forward to the evening ahead.
Ten minutes later the taxi drew in at a clifftop hotel. Karen recognised where she was – the five-star hotel and restaurant that, since opening three years earlier, had gained a gold-plated reputation and was regarded as the place to be seen.
‘You do know how expensive this place is, don’t you?’ she whispered to Guy. ‘They almost charge you to just look at the menu.’
‘Ssh. It’s a no-expense-spared evening,’ Guy whispered back. After a quick word with the driver, he took her hand again and led the way into the foyer. Their table for dinner was in the orangery at the front of the hotel, which seemed to have been built jutting out over the rocks on the beach below.
Pink champagne was waiting in a silver ice bucket on their table and the waiter deftly poured two glasses and handed them one each before discreetly moving away.
‘To us,’ Guy said as they touched glasses. ‘And the future.’
Karen echoed his words before taking a sip of the icy-cold liquid. ‘My favourite.’
Glancing around at the high-maintenance women sitting at a couple of the other tables, she relaxed, glad she had decided to wear the red dress. For once she felt confident in herself, able to hold her own in such a glamorous place.
‘You know Melissa came to see me,’ Guy said quietly. ‘She’s finally accepted it’s over between us. Divorce proceedings will be underway this time next week.’
‘Snap,’ Karen said. ‘I saw a lawyer too, at the end of last week.’
The waiter returned at that moment with the menus. Karen chose a dish of local lobster and Guy decided to go fo
r the monkfish.
‘What’s happening at the end of summer?’ Karen asked. ‘Will you have to go to London to find work?’
‘Not if I can avoid it.’ Guy looked at her. ‘I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours sussing out possibilities and making plans. I’m hoping the first decision I’ve made is one you’ll like.’ He drank some of his champagne before saying, ‘How d’you feel about having me as a neighbour over winter? Charlie’s renting me No. 3 from next month until Easter next year.’
Karen couldn’t stop a big smile from spreading over her face. ‘Seriously? That’s great. But what about work?’
‘Photography is really the only thing I know but I don’t want to do war reporting any more. I want to stick to happy photos. Postcards, weddings, portraits, that kind of thing. I reckon I could earn a living doing freelance photography down here. May even be an opening on the local paper for covering fêtes, WI fairs, that kind of ordinary, everyday stuff. What d’you think?’
‘That you’re going to be a very busy man within a few months.’
‘I’ve been checking local businesses out as well. Lots I’ve seen could do with some decent photos on websites and brochures. Take time to build up I know but…’ Guy shrugged. ‘At least I’ll be in a happy place again.’
Karen reached out and touched his hand. ‘At the end of the day, it’s the only place to live. What’s the French saying? “Heureux dans ma peau – Happy in my skin.” It’s something we should aspire to.’
Guy looked at her. ‘Being around you makes me happy.’
Karen smiled. He’d had that effect on her thirty years ago and the feeling had come back the moment she’d seen him again this summer.
*
Bruce was up early as usual the next morning. He had breakfast then took Girly for her walk along the coastal path. This early-morning walk had rapidly become his favourite way to start the day. The air was fresh. The day ahead full of promise. Nobody was around to hear him talking to a dog. He was convinced, too, that he was getting fitter from all this walking he did with Girly.
Summer at Coastguard Cottages Page 20