by Georgia Hill
She felt him kiss the top of her head. ‘That’s a nice, middle-class thing to say, Dora.’ His laugh took the sting from the words. ‘Dad was savvy enough to keep any do-gooders at bay. When he was sober he was charm personified. Could call birds down from the trees. And when things got really heavy, we’d decamp off to Aunty Debs in Truro.’
‘So that’s why you disappeared so much?’
‘Yup. Debs was lovely. Fed me up, sorted me out. She wanted me to live with her permanently but Dad insisted I was the only family he had.’
‘I’m sorry you had such a shitty time.’ It seemed a completely inadequate thing to say, but she had to say something.
She stepped from Mike’s embrace, needing some space. Her perception of him was changing. Yes, he was still deeply desirable; yes, a fragment of the rebellious youth remained. She still loved him as she had when they teenagers. But a new respect for the man he’d become was developing. He had a strength of character she’d never needed. She’d sailed into Central, had got the part in the States almost immediately, had achieved an enviable lifestyle. Until recently. Mike had been the only thing denied to her. Ironic, considering he was the thing she’d most desired.
She looked out to the view again. A fingernail moon had risen and everything had turned monochrome after the fiery colours of the sunset earlier. A trail of silver shimmered across the shifting waters of the sea. It seemed to lead to them and to the potent atmosphere that had sprung up. She turned to Mike, aware that he was watching her. ‘What a wonderful place to live. This house, I mean. Well, Berecombe too, I suppose.’ She thought of her privileged upbringing, so different to Mike’s. ‘You take it all for granted as a kid.’
He came closer. He had a curious expression on his face. ‘Do you really think it’s so great?’
Dora nodded. Her throat had closed at his nearness and she’d lost the power to speak.
‘I’d have thought it wouldn’t compare with how you’ve lived in the States.’
Somehow Dora knew he wasn’t just referring to a house. ‘No, it’s lovely. I would love to live somewhere like this.’ She thought she’d said it but it was possible it had come out as a strangled whisper.
Mike traced a thumb down the side of her face. He was so close she could feel his hot breath on her skin. See the glint of vivid blue through the veil of black lashes. ‘Dora. It’s been so long.’
The kiss, when it came, was measured. Skilled. Grown up. A world away from the one in the car. This was a kiss that meant business.
Dora surrendered to it, pulled him to her to feel his heat. Snaking a hand around him, she hooked her fingers around a belt loop. Hearing him groan as he nipped at her earlobe, she gave in to the deliciousness coursing through her. Again, she felt she was coming home. The only one she’d ever known or ever wanted.
She also felt something vibrate.
Mike sprang away as if scalded.
Dora took his vibrating mobile from his back pocket and stared at the screen. ‘Oh look,’ she said, one brow arched. ‘It’s Kirstie.’
‘Sorry Dora, I’ll have to take it.’
She stared at him for a second in disbelief. ‘You do that, Mike.’ Then she turned on her heel and was out of the house in seconds.
‘Idiot. Idiot. Idiot fucking woman,’ she cursed as she stalked down the long drive back to the main road. It was only when she got to it that she realised she had no way of getting home.
With a furious sigh she took out her phone and rang her father. He was going to be so mad.
Again.
Chapter 21
It was Sunday and Jed had been very mysterious on the phone. He’d asked Millie to meet him on the harbour at nine, but she was to leave Trevor behind. The dog had his own little holiday booked – he had a day of being spoiled rotten by the Tizzard boys ahead and would come back sandy and exhausted.
As requested, Millie was wearing a bikini under her dress. She perched on the edge of an ancient iron bollard and inhaled the unique fish and diesel smells. She didn’t often have time to walk around the harbour and had forgotten how pretty it was. A seagull glided past with a cackle. It landed not far from her, cocking its eye at a discarded crab claw. Millie watched, amused, as it did a one-step-forward and three-step-back dance before it dived on the claw and flew off. Millie watched it fly low across the water and saw Jed walking towards her with Davy Pascoe. She knew Old Davy, he ran mackerel fishing trips for the tourists in the summer season.
She waved at them. Standing up, she brushed herself down. As they got closer, she asked, laughing, ‘We’re not going for mackerel, are we?’
‘Morning, Millie. May I say how gorgeous you’re looking?’ Jed gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Ooh, I think you may. Can I return the compliment?’ As ever, Jed looked Boden-perfect in turquoise skinny jeans and a loose white shirt. Today, he’d topped it off with an elegant straw fedora. He tipped the brim and grinned. ‘Your words gladden my heart.’
‘Don’t hear no compliments comin’ my way,’ grumbled Davey.
Millie took the old man’s arm. Hugging it to her, she giggled. ‘Now, don’t tell Jed but you know you’ve always been the man for me. Trouble was –’
‘Couldn’t fight off the other women, I knows. ‘Tis always been my problem. All them lemmings coming after me.’
At Jed’s puzzled look, Millie explained, ‘Lemmings are tourists.’
‘Ah. And no, Davey’s not taking us mackerel fishing, although I’d love to do that one day. I’ve chartered his boat for a day out.’
Millie wrinkled her nose. ‘Wont it be a bit fishy?’
‘Have a care, missy,’ Davey complained. ‘You got me private boat today. Don’t use that for no mackerel. Got a nice little Hardy Commander.’
Millie gazed at Jed, who shrugged. ‘No idea either,’ he said, ‘But I believe it has a motor and a cabin. Speaking of which, hadn’t we better get going?’
‘Well, I’m rarin’ to go,’ Davey muttered. Was just waiting for you two to get done with the pretty talk.’ He sucked on his teeth.
Jed held out his arm to Millie. ‘Shall we follow our captain?’
‘Better had. Davey gets a bit cross if you don’t do as he says.’
‘I ‘eard that.’
Once settled at the stern on a bench seat, which smelled, if anything, of new plastic, Millie turned to Jed. ‘So what are we going to do?’
‘Davey’s taking us on a cruise. Thought it would be fun to see the coastline from the sea.’
‘Oh, that’s going to be amazing!’ Millie clapped her hands. ‘And we couldn’t have a more perfect day for it.’
She was right. As they chugged past the Dead Slow sign out of the harbour entrance, the boat picked up speed. Millie shaded her eyes against the bright sun bouncing hard off the sea and gazed entranced at Berecombe’s promenade as it came into view from behind the wall.
Jed leaned forward. ‘There’s Millie Vanilla’s,’ he shouted, above the noise of the motor.
Millie admired the view of her café. ‘So it is. I’ve never ever seen it from this angle. Those geraniums I potted up look good, even from here. Doesn’t it all look pretty?’
Jed grinned. ‘It does.’
The boat followed the line of the town until they reached the theatre and then turned and went further out to sea to navigate the rocks at the eastern end of the bay.
Millie shivered in a wind that whipped off the water.
‘Come here,’ Jed said and she slid over to him. Snuggling against his warmth, with his strong arms around her, Millie was in heaven.
‘Relax,’ he said, keeping her hands warm with his. ‘It’s your day off. Relax and enjoy the view.’
So she did.
The route took them past the golden cliffs at West Bay and along the great stretch of Chesil Beach. The boat rounded Portland, past Weymouth, and eventually headed into a tiny bay. Davey tied up alongside a jetty and helped them out.
‘See you two later,’ he call
ed and waved.
Millie waved until the boat got smaller and smaller and then disappeared out of view.
‘What do you think?’ Jed asked.
She turned her back on the sea and looked about her. The beach was a perfect fingernail of soft white sand. The only things in sight were three beach huts painted in ice-cream colours and a steep track leading up the cliff behind them. Without the sound of the boat’s motor, a hush fell. Even the seabirds, wheeling on a current above, were silent.
‘Oh Jed. It’s perfect.’ Holding his hand, she followed him along the rickety jetty and, taking her flip-flops off, sank her toes into the sand. ‘However did you find it?’
‘Friend of Alex’s owns the hotel it belongs to. He called in a favour. It’s completely private and we’ve got it to ourselves until the tide turns.’
Millie danced around in giddy circles. ‘Really? I love it!’
Jed laughed and headed to the central beach hut. ‘Should be all we need in here, even a kettle if it gets cold.’ He glanced up at the azure sky above them. ‘Don’t think that’s going to be a problem somehow.’ He turned and grinned at Millie, who was holding her face up to the sun, greedily drinking it in. ‘Swim first and then crab sandwiches?’
‘Perfect.’ Then she heard what he was saying and checked herself. ‘Where can I get changed?’
Jed nodded to a pink-and-pistachio-striped hut. ‘Towels and things in there.’
‘Give me five minutes.’
Opening the hut door, Millie stared in amazement. It was the most luxurious beach hut she’d ever been in. A full-length mirror reflected light back at her. Two benches padded with striped fabric lined either side and an inviting white robe hung from a bleached-wood hook. Wonder of wonders, there was even a stand with body and face creams and every soothing aftersun and lip gel a woman could want. Millie picked up a bottle and sprayed experimentally. Eau Dynamisante. ‘Gorgeous,’ she breathed.
Two minutes later she stood ankle deep in the sea, feeling shy and hugging a towel around her. It was ridiculous. Jed had seen her wearing much less. The sound of him opening a door behind jolted her into action. She threw off the towel and did a hasty belly flop into the sea.
‘Bugger, it’s cold!’ she spluttered as she surfaced to find Jed treading water next to her. He was shivering slightly.
He shoved sopping hair off his face, his teeth gleaming very white against his brown face. ‘Race you? Not that I particularly want to, but I think it’s the only way I’m going to keep warm!’
Chapter 22
While Millie made tea, Jed gathered some driftwood and lit a fire. Wrapped up in the robes, they sat leaning against each other, toasting their frozen toes and eating crab sandwiches.
He gave the fire a poke and new flames curled out, sending smoke into the blue sky. ‘Thawing out? Always forget how cold the English sea can be, even in May.’
‘Especially in May! I’m just about warming up.’ Millie clutched her mug in both hands. ‘The tea’s helping.’ She wedged the mug in the sand and tucked her hands into the sleeves of her robe. ‘It’s all been lovely, Jed. Such a treat.’
‘Good. You on for another date next Sunday?’
‘Depends what you’ve got planned,’ Millie giggled.
Jed tapped his nose. ‘Secret.’
‘Another secret?’
‘Another lovely one, I promise.’
Millie pretended to consider. ‘I might be free,’ she said, airily.
Jed gave her an old-fashioned look.
‘Of course I’ll be free. Seriously, though, once the season really gets going I won’t be able to take Sundays off. Unless Clare is happy to take over.’
‘I understand.’ He gave her a look that warmed her far more than any amount of tea could. ‘I’ll just have to make the most of you while I can, then.’
Millie blushed, turned to pick up her mug and hid her face in it.
Jed shoved another piece of wood into the fire.
‘Channelling your inner boy scout, Jed?’
He gave a twisted grin. ‘Never became a scout, although I think I would have loved it. We always travelled about too much for me and Alex to join anything long enough to make it worthwhile. I was in the officer-training corps at school. I loved that. Thought about the army for a bit.’
‘Did you?’ Millie was surprised. ‘I can’t see you in the army, somehow.’
‘Neither could they.’ He pulled a face. ‘Turns out I’m not very good at taking orders. A bit gung ho, they said.’
‘Now that trait I recognise.’
He shrugged and smiled. ‘Ma always says I rush into things without thinking them through.’
‘She might have a point.’
‘Uniform was nice, though.’
Millie toed him gently. ‘Now that does sound like you.’
‘Suppose I’ve never really found what I want to do. Or hadn’t until recently. Ma’s always on at me to get a career sorted. To settle down with one thing, as Alex has.’
Millie frowned. ‘She can’t be pleased you’ve given up the consultancy work, then.’
‘It hasn’t gone down too well.’ He gave her a glance from under dark lashes. ‘Ma thinks I’m rushing into this.’
‘You’ve talked to her about the café? About us?’
Jed nodded. ‘Of course. She’s coming down soon. You’ll get to meet her. Alex too.’
‘What’s she like, your mum?’
Jed leaned back on one elbow. His blonde head was very near and Millie longed to reach out to it. He smelled deliciously of the sea.
‘Tough,’ he admitted. ‘She was hard on us as children. Had to be, with Pa away such a lot. She didn’t have a lot as a child. Always said her parents were piss-poor. I never met them; they died when I was a baby. As a kid Mum took on anything paid she could find. Newspaper rounds, working in shops, doing another job in the evenings. Got herself to Lucie Clayton. Was quite a successful model for a while, made the cover of Vogue and then met Dad.’
‘She sounds impressive.’
‘She can be.’
‘And made all her money herself? I really admire that. I can’t stand these trust-fund types. You know the ones, like on Made in Chelsea? They always seem to have money handed to them without ever having to work for it.’
Jed gave her a sharp look, then focussed on the horizon for a second. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever seen it, but yes, Ma’s definitely a self-made woman.’ He was reflective for a moment, drawing an intricate pattern in the sand with a twig. ‘She had to give it up when she married Pa. It just didn’t fit into RAF life and then Alex and I came along. I think she misses it. Wanted girls, apparently.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Probably would have started up a modelling dynasty. Apart from my love of clothes, I suspect I’m a sad disappointment to her.’
It showed a rare and surprising insecurity and Millie was touched. ‘I’m sure you’re not. How could you be?’
‘Yeah well. Enough introspection.’ He yawned and stretched, the robe gaping open to reveal his muscled chest. ‘How about we get into some dry gear and make sandcastles? After my last lesson, I think it’s something I’m really rather good at.’ He trailed a hand along her naked foot. ‘And if you don’t put on some clothes soon, I think I’ll go mad with frustration. All I can think about is the skin underneath that robe you’ve got on. It’s driving me crazy.’
As Millie got up and glanced back at the length of him stretched out on the sand she knew exactly what he meant.
A few hours later, Davey’s boat came cruising into the bay just as the tide was turning. Millie took Jed’s strong hand as they clambered aboard. They sat, once again, on the bench in the stern of the boat. They didn’t talk, just held each other for warmth and comfort as they headed west into the sun. Millie was thoughtful. It sounded as if Jed had a troubled relationship with his mother. She wasn’t entirely sure she was looking forward to meeting her.
Chapter 23
The entire cast had gathered at the t
heatre for the first run-through. The bucket was still present, with water dripping occasionally through the ceiling from the offices above. Dora placed her chair fastidiously to one side of it and glared up.
‘Should really get something done about that.’ It was Greg. He flung his chair down next to hers with a clatter. ‘Kirstie thinks it’s a central heating pipe.’
Dora shivered. ‘This place has heating?’ She pulled her woollen jacket closer. She’d quickly learned that even when it was seventy outside, the inside of the theatre remained icy. As it was likely there would be a fair bit of sitting around today, she’d come prepared. She wrapped the shawl she’d borrowed from her mother more tightly around her neck and snuggled down.
Greg collapsed onto his chair and laughed. ‘Well, Persuasion is set during the autumn, isn’t it? At least we won’t have to act being cold.’
She was about to reply when Mike strode to the front of the theatre, levered himself onto the stage and began to speak.
Dora found she couldn’t make eye contact with him. Although she was still furious and eaten alive with jealousy over him and Kirstie, frustratingly she still loved him. And always would. It seemed Michael Love was a habit too hard to kick. She ground her teeth. Giving up nicotine had been easy in comparison. It was all so hopeless. Forcing herself to concentrate, she listened as Mike gave them a pep talk followed by their notes.
During the little time she wasn’t on stage, she hung around, refusing to take a break. She watched Mike at work. She couldn’t help herself. Somehow, despite the killer phone call, what he’d recently confided made her love him all the more. The hormone-driven rebellious lust for Berecombe’s bad boy had been replaced by a deep admiration for the man he had become. He had overcome so much and, despite it all, he’d risen to the top of his profession. Watching how he gave notes to some of the younger, amateur members of the cast – or ‘the kids’ as they’d been nicknamed – during the lunch break, her heart swelled with pride at what he’d achieved. Had become. And then, seeing Kirstie waiting patiently to one side, her heart shattered at the knowledge he would never be hers.