On that beach, buried beneath the stones, was her soul.
She pinpointed the exact spot from her window.
A knock sounded on the front door and she hopped down from the bed, grabbed her coat, and ran down the stairs. She greeted her dad in the cold hallway.
‘Victoria, this is Olivia DeVere.’ Frank held open the front door. ‘Olivia, meet my oldest daughter, Victoria Noble.’
The woman’s smile alone was enough to warm Victoria. She shook Olivia’s paint-splattered hand, and discreetly studied her. Her blonde hair was piled into a topknot, she wore very little make-up, and her clothes had a life of their own. Underneath an open green ranger’s mac, she wore a thin, white cotton blouse partially covered by a heavy, paisley waistcoat in varying shades of brown, and a pair of red Dr Martens were framed by an ankle length fawn suede skirt. The elegant name did not match the jumble of clothes heaped around the rotund form.
‘Lovely to meet you, Olivia. How’s the craft business?’
Olivia smiled. ‘Your dad was my sole customer, and not only did he not buy anything, he gave me a reason to shut up shop.’
They regarded one another. Olivia’s Caribbean-blue eyes, although weathered at the corners, radiated the energy of a twenty-year-old.
Victoria blinked. ‘I’ll fetch my son.’ As she turned to climb upstairs, Seth emerged and ran down, stopping in front of Olivia.
‘Hello, young man. You must be Seth. Your granddad’s told me all about you.’
Victoria looked from the woman, who was too well informed for comfort, to Seth, who was prone to act up at any moment.
‘Right,’ said Frank, stepping between them all and rubbing his hands. ‘Let’s go looking for pirates.’ He pulled Seth’s coat together, threaded the rugby-shaped buttons through their loops, and gave a gentle squeeze to the boy’s cheek. ‘Be good.’
Seth dashed from the house and ran up and down the pavement, thrusting an air sword at imaginary adversaries. The adults filtered outside one-by-one.
The sun was working hard, trying its level best to warm the air, but the sea breeze was still creating a nip. Victoria buttoned up her jacket and pushed her hands into her pockets. There was no point offering them to Seth. She’d tried that before and was given such a display of disdain that she’d stored the image away as a prompt to limit public demonstrations of affection.
‘He’s full of energy,’ Olivia remarked. ‘I love to see youngsters out in the fresh air. Too many of them are stuck indoors on those wretched computers.’
‘Messing about on social media pages? Messaging their friends as opposed to ringing them? That sort of thing?’ Victoria held her breath waiting for a reply.
‘Exactly.’ Olivia laughed, and threaded an arm through Victoria’s. ‘You’re very serious. Your dad’s told me all about EweSpeak and how much of a whizz on the computers you are. I bleat.’ She smiled. ‘Tell me about yourself while we walk.’
Her voice was undemanding, but her hold was firm. Victoria tried, but failed to withdraw from the close contact. She used her free arm to indicate to Seth he should walk alongside, but he charged ahead. ‘Next right,’ she shouted, and he vanished around the corner.
The three adults walked a little way up the pavement, entered an alleyway and ambled towards the beach. Seth was already on the stones and skipping close to the water’s edge.
‘Step back from there. I don’t have a change of clothes for you.’ Again, Victoria was ignored by her son as he dared the sea to soak him. She shook her head, her attention drawn to the sea defences – gabion baskets – wire cages filled with pebbles. They were larger than she remembered. ‘Have these houses flooded recently?’
‘Not since I’ve been here,’ Olivia said. ‘There’s been plenty of trouble in the past, but I’m led to believe that’s been dealt with. Why?’
‘My cottage is damp. It smells musty.’ With a quick tug, she finally freed her arm from Olivia’s and touched the cold, metallic structure. Her back tingled as a memory transferred from her fingertips to her core – Chris’s weight pushing her against the wall, as he kissed her. ‘These are sturdy enough,’ she said, shaking the chill from her spine.
‘Perhaps your bath’s leaked.’
‘Maybe.’ Something else to patch up. The list went from broken pipes to family relationships. Talk about diverse. ‘Got a lot to repair,’ Victoria said, pushing her feet into the pebbles. She tried a smile, failed, and then continued on her way. ‘So, how did you and Dad meet?’
‘He’s not told you?’ Olivia fell into her stride. ‘The poor old soul was having a quiet drink at the Harbour Inn when I collared him. Such a handsome man, I was compelled to sketch him.’
Frank looked over his shoulder. ‘I’m a model now.’ He grinned.
Olivia turned her head towards Victoria. ‘He won’t agree to pose nude, though. I’d love to sculpt him.’
Victoria’s eyes flashed from Olivia, to Frank, and then to Seth, who was too busy chasing waves to catch the conversation. Thank goodness for small mercies. ‘I’m not sure how I should respond,’ she said, keeping her eyes on her son.
‘Say whatever springs to mind. Be spontaneous,’ Olivia said.
Victoria cocked a brow at her neighbour. ‘I tried spontaneity and this is where it’s left me.’ Her arm received a squeeze.
‘I think you should try again. It’s good for the soul.’
The soul I’ve buried back there. Victoria’s muscles tensed. She was thinking too much to be spontaneous. She made a conscious effort to drop her shoulders and straighten her back. She’d spent so many years hunched over a computer, she’d lost all sense of poise. From the corner of her eye, she caught Olivia doing the same.
‘Well, that helps your breathing,’ the older lady said, sounding surprised. ‘I should spend less time at my potter’s wheel and more time walking. Right. You’ve had long enough to think of something spontaneous. What have you got?’
Victoria cringed. As much as she was warming to Olivia, she froze under the spotlight, and there was no escape. Olivia’s eyes tracked her. Victoria loosened the top of her jacket, and the cold air rushed for her neck, its icy licks curling around. That was better, but she needed to bring the moment to a close. ‘I have nothing.’
‘Then I have a question. Does Seth always ignore you?’
Taken aback by the sudden change of topic, Victoria struggled to reply. She was duty-bound to take offence and use a ‘How dare you?’ tone, but the word ‘Yes’ was flashing behind her eyes like a jackpot winner alert. She didn’t answer.
‘I have another question, then,’ Olivia continued. ‘For no reason other than to settle my curiosity, tell me why you’re considering living at the cottage.’ She came to a standstill. ‘You have the means to buy from new.’
Victoria gazed at the horizon. It was still, straight and defining. ‘I like it,’ she said. ‘It’s home.’ She assumed her reply wasn’t adequate enough to satisfy Olivia, but to her surprise, her neighbour didn’t follow through.
‘Seth’s going to have wet feet.’
Victoria nodded.
‘I love his hair. Curls on a boy are gorgeous. And what long lashes he has too. He’ll have girls fighting over him.’ Olivia puckered her lips. ‘There may be trouble ahead.’
‘Thanks for the warning.’ Girlfriends? Good Lord, Victoria couldn’t think beyond how to get tea down him, let alone contemplate his future love life.
‘If he’s anything like his Pops, he’ll have women falling at his feet.’
Victoria caught her father and Olivia exchange a glance. ‘How many women have you got on the go, Dad?’ The words were out before Victoria had time to edit herself. She covered her mouth with her hand to stop the giggles from escaping. The look on her dad’s face was priceless. It measured somewhere between shock and delight.
&nb
sp; Olivia was the first to laugh out loud. ‘Now, that’s spontaneity,’ she said. ‘I told you it was good for you.’
The amiability of the moment enveloped Victoria and she too laughed. Was it possible her soul wasn’t weighed down by seventeen years’ worth of Chesil Beach pebbles? The idea that she could let her youth go was liberating. For too many years she’d towed it behind her like an old comforter – something familiar to cling to when times got rough. She was imagining burying it at sea when Olivia’s voice drifted in.
‘Have you eaten?’
Victoria’s mind returned to dry land with a growl of her stomach. ‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Harbour Inn it is,’ said Frank, taking Seth by the hand. ‘Inside or outside table?’
‘I’d rather go in.’ Victoria rubbed her hands together, before jamming them into her jacket pocket. ‘I’m not used to all this fresh air.’
‘You can’t beat a decent sea breeze.’ Olivia shuffled in the stones until she was facing the sea, held out her upturned palms, and closed her eyes. ‘Try it, Victoria. Let the wind run through you. It’s a wonderful feeling.’
This woman is as mad as a box of frogs. Victoria caught Olivia peeping at her. What the woman conveyed with one eye was astounding. Scary too. Victoria yanked her hands from her pockets and exposed her palms to the breeze.
‘Close your eyes,’ Olivia said. ‘Your dad’s got Seth, and apart from us, the beach is empty. Come on. It doesn’t cost a thing.’
‘Except my dignity,’ Victoria grumbled.
‘Apart from that.’ Olivia lowered her arms and looked at Victoria. ‘Trust me. It’ll blow away those stuffy London blues. You’d pay a fortune in the City for this type of treatment.’
‘Cruelty, you mean.’
Olivia laughed. ‘I knew you had a sense of humour. See, it’s working already. Now, close your eyes and give yourself to the breeze. Let go. And if nothing else, take joy in the knowledge it’s free. Like all the best things in life.’ With her smile gradually fading, Olivia followed her own instructions.
The woman is indomitable, Victoria thought, as she closed her eyes. That was a good trait. Perhaps some of it would blow across to her. She braced herself for the onslaught of the easterly, which, when it hit, took away her breath. It cut through her, but it was invigorating.
Then the sounds found a way in. The cacophony of gulls, the chinking of the pebbles, the waves … The waves reminded her of something. Their rhythm, the gentle shush as they swayed along the shore … A heartbeat. An unborn baby’s heartbeat.
‘What are you doing?’
Victoria opened her eyes to find Seth staring at her.
‘You look silly,’ he said.
‘Your mum may look silly, young man, but I bet she feels fantastic.’ Olivia, so visibly refreshed by the experience, manoeuvred Seth into position and told him to close his eyes.
Victoria watched on, astonished with his compliance.
‘When I don’t know how to tell people I’m frightened, or sad, or angry, I come down here and let the wind and the sea work their magic.’
Seth, his eyes pinging open, tilted back his head. ‘How?’
‘Sometimes I scream really loudly. Nobody hears because the wind carries it out to sea.’
‘Do you say bad words? She said shit.’
He pointed to Victoria, who nodded. Denial was futile.
Olivia raised a hand to her mouth, but it didn’t conceal her smile. ‘We all say stuff we shouldn’t, and yes, even I swear, but the wind is very forgiving.’
‘And healing,’ Frank chipped in.
‘And free,’ Olivia said, turning to Victoria.
‘Like all the best things in life.’ Victoria smiled. Indomitable and persistent. ‘I bet lunch costs though.’
The Harbour Inn wasn’t far, and at Olivia’s insistence that fresh air was good for the soul, and despite Victoria’s protestations, the women settled at a table fronting onto the pebbled beach. As Frank took Seth by the hand and led him into the building, Victoria was unnerved by Olivia’s expectant look. Questions were about to be asked. Perhaps she should get in first. Use diversionary tactics. ‘Have you always run your own business, Olivia?’
‘Lord, no. This is my pay-off for years of working in schools.’
Now the display with Seth made sense. ‘A teacher?’ Victoria ventured.
‘Yes. From when I left university until I retired three years ago.’
A woman with staying power. ‘What did you teach?’
‘Children.’ Olivia chortled and then adopted a serious expression. ‘Art and design, mostly. Sometimes music. Both together on occasion. They’re great forms of self-expression, don’t you think?’
‘If that’s your thing,’ Victoria said, suppressing a pout. ‘It’s never worked for me.’
‘And yet EweSpeak began as a fan site for Annabel Lamb.’ Olivia stared out to sea.
Victoria twisted in her seat so she was facing her. ‘You’re very well-informed. Did Dad tell you about Annabel?’
‘Look, he’s very proud of both you and your sister, but he hasn’t a clue about your business. I searched on the Internet and found an interview Juliette had given after Annabel won UK Starz.’ She met Victoria’s eyes. ‘I couldn’t find much about you. It’s all Juliette.’
‘That’s how we like it,’ Victoria said. ‘Juliette’s happy in the limelight. I’d rather stay out of it.’ Perhaps Olivia would take the hint and cease the interrogation.
‘Well, how you’ve managed that I’ll never know, but I’m impressed with how you’ve built the company. A fun project to support a local girl in a national singing competition to global domination.’
Victoria tutted. ‘It’s hardly global, but yes, when Annabel won the competition she and EweSpeak did very well out of it. When the media wanted to see the face behind the success, we gave them Juliette’s. She was expecting her first son at the time. For a while, it was complete madness.’
‘EweSpeak or the pregnancy?’
Interesting question. ‘I meant the business, but, yes, in my experience, pregnancy is madness too.’
‘You weren’t prepared?’
‘I was so not ready for children.’
‘I meant for the fame and fortune that EweSpeak brought, but now’s a good time to speak about Seth. May I be direct?’
What could Victoria say? She’d raised the subject herself. Besides, she had the feeling no wouldn’t work with Olivia. ‘Go on.’
‘Does he always battle for control?’
Victoria hadn’t considered that the knocks, bangs and arguments were about seizing power. She assumed Seth was acting up or attention seeking. She swallowed. ‘We fight. No. That’s not right. He fights. I stand and take it.’ The instant the words were out, the bruise on her temple throbbed. She massaged it. Thank goodness the wind was blowing in her face, otherwise Olivia might mistake her tears for those of sorrow. She leaned back, as the older lady zoomed in for a closer inspection.
‘Did you want children?’
‘No.’ The guilt of answering the question honestly swirled in Victoria’s gut. ‘But not once did I say I wished Seth wasn’t here.’
‘Did you think it?’
Victoria resigned herself to what she deemed the inevitable and decided to continue speaking openly. It was possible the eccentric, wise old teacher would have a solution to her problem. ‘Maybe. I don’t recall. My emotions were all over the place. I was laughing one minute and crying the next. It was horrible. I didn’t enjoy pregnancy, the birth was worse than I ever imagined, and I resented my body for having a mind of its own. I had no control. The baby cried, my breasts leaked, and everyone insisted I tried feeding him. I had midwives grabbing at me, manhandling me, attaching this child to me like I was a machine. When you’re told it�
�s best for the baby and the nurses look down their noses at you because you’ve asked for formula and a bottle, and when you never planned to be sitting, ripped, stitched and sore in the maternity wing of the local hospital, things get crazy. I was crazy. And then I bled for six weeks. It was sheer misery and I wanted my life back.’
Victoria came to an abrupt halt, astounded by her own outpour. ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea I was going to say that.’ She stopped pretending the wind was causing the tears, pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. ‘No one listened to me back then. It was so hard.’
Olivia smiled kindly. ‘Expectations are high, Victoria. The world assumes you’ll fall in love with your child the minute you lay eyes upon him. We’re not all programmed that way. Love can take time. And it needs nurturing.’ She patted her heart. ‘Tell me more. Your dad says you returned to work immediately.’
Victoria drummed her fingers on the slatted surface of the table. ‘I did. Ben, my then-husband, and I agreed I’d work and he’d be the baby’s main carer, but being a father wasn’t manly enough for him. He left when Seth was two months old.’
‘Did you stop working?’
‘No.’ Victoria stilled her hands. ‘I employed nannies. A day one to start with, but it wasn’t enough. Seth cried twenty-four seven, and I was struggling. I don’t need much sleep, but he had me up so many times I didn’t know what day of the week it was. In the end, I employed a night nanny, too.’
‘For how long?’ Olivia, who was now sitting side-saddle, crossed her legs.
‘Until he was out of nappies. The day nanny still comes. He gets on with the current lady.’ Victoria released a great, long breath. ‘It’s taken five agencies to find the right match.’
‘Did the others provide inadequate care?’
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