by Kate Ryder
For Oliver, Cara is like a dream; one he has always had but never able to recall. He wonders how long they can stay locked together like this. It’s heady stuff. He’s uncertain what to say, but there doesn’t seem the need to put thoughts into words. As they dance together in the moonlight, Oliver lets the music wash over him.
Tania, still smarting over Oliver’s abrupt exit, sips her lager and looks out across the beach. She’s jealous, but also fascinated by the light that surrounds the couple and thinks she must have had way too much to drink.
‘How you doin’, Tan?’ Rick sits beside his lover.
‘OK,’ she says, without averting her gaze from Oliver and Cara.
‘Well, would you look at that!’ Rick raises his fingers to his mouth to wolf-whistle but stops himself. Something about Oliver and Cara is so intimate and private, there’s simply no room for the world to interfere. ‘We give good parties, don’t we, Tan?’ he says, putting his arm around her.
‘Mmm,’ she says, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she lays her head against his shoulder and tries to block out the lyrics, but it’s no good. There’s no denying what’s happening out there beyond the firelight. This song is for the beautiful couple dancing on the sand.
Oliver feels a shiver course through Cara’s body. Holding her firmly but gently, as if she is the most fragile and precious thing in the world, he can’t believe how each song sends him a message. He wants this moment to last forever. And he so wants to kiss her; to experience her. But if he starts now he knows he will never stop. Instead, as the music comes to an end, tenderly he brushes his lips against her forehead.
‘Cara,’ he whispers, and he knows her name has been on his lips all of his life.
Chapter Eighteen
Cara’s legs have turned to jelly and what the hell is her stomach doing? For crying out loud! Despite the music having stopped, Oliver still holds her. Frantically, she tries to think of something intelligent to say, but the emotions coursing through her have rendered her speechless.
‘So, what do you say to a dip in the sea?’ Tas bellows, approaching out of the darkness with his arm firmly around Morwenna’s waist.
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Morwenna exclaims. ‘The sea will be freezing! Give it a month or two, then maybe…’
‘Baby, never fear, I’d soon warm you up!’ he says and Morwenna laughs nervously. ‘But I will definitely hold you to that.’ Tas turns his attentions to Oliver and Cara. ‘What are you two doing now?’
Good question. ‘What are we doing now?’ Oliver asks quietly.
Cara takes a deep breath. ‘Well, I have a full day tomorrow so I should be getting home.’
Overwhelmed by crushing disappointment, Oliver knows he can’t let her disappear so quickly; not when he’s only just found her.
‘Is home far? Did you come by car?’
Cara laughs. ‘No, I came by foot! I live at the end of the beach.’
Another who enjoys the freedom of this fabulous cove.
And then Oliver recalls the cheeky lad with the Labrador and the adorable young girl. His eyes open wide. ‘Are you Cara Penhaligon?’ he asks incredulously.
‘You’ve got me.’ She smiles up at him.
Oh, how I wish I had!
‘But I have one of your paintings!’ he exclaims.
‘Yes, I know. The Minack.’
‘And you didn’t say anything?’
Cara shakes her head. Seeing a small frown furrow his brow, swiftly she adds, ‘I’ve had other things on my mind tonight.’
Could she possibly mean him? Could he affect her as much as she does him?
Could I do that to her?
Deep in his belly the bubbling excitement builds.
‘I met your family earlier,’ he says. ‘Beth, Sky and your mother, although I’ve met her before. Oh, and not forgetting Barnaby.’ Warmth fills his soul.
Cara smiles. ‘I know that too!’
‘Cara Penhaligon,’ Oliver says in a mock stern voice, ‘you have had me at a disadvantage from the start.’
‘The start of what?’ Cara asks.
Oliver can hardly speak. She’s hit the nail on the head. There’s nothing that can be started. He rakes a hand through his hair. He can’t just let her disappear into the night and walk out of his life, but what other option does he have?
‘Allow me to walk you to your door at least.’
Graciously Cara accepts his offer. Glancing towards the café, she sees Tristan and Jane striding across the sand towards them. Behind them, Ben looks sulkily in her direction.
‘Mo, we’re making tracks. See you tomorrow around one,’ Tristan says pointedly to his sister. The look on his face makes Cara want to laugh.
Morwenna nods.
Glancing at Tas’s hand on his sister’s waist, Tristan frowns. He looks over at Cara and Oliver, and is startled to meet Cara’s steady gaze. She raises an eyebrow.
‘Can’t help it,’ he says, smiling sheepishly.
Now she laughs. As Cara walks towards her friends by the fire, Oliver’s eyes follow her.
‘Blimey, Cara!’ exclaims Martha, breathless with excitement. ‘Dancing with Oliver Foxley, you lucky, lucky…’ Casting around for a suitable word, she eventually settles on, ‘…friend!’
Cara smiles, embarrassed.
‘Yeah, a bit of a smooth mover, isn’t he?’ says Ben moodily, glaring in Oliver’s direction.
‘Oh, Ben, it was only a few dances,’ Cara says.
‘Yeah, but I wanted to have the last dance with you.’
Cara smiles apologetically. Picking up her cardigan from the log, she throws it around her shoulders.
‘Do me a favour, Cara,’ says Tristan, as he and Jane approach. ‘Keep an eye on Mo, will you? You know what she’s like when she fancies someone and I think she’s got the hots for that guy.’ He jerks his head in Tas’s direction.
‘Tristan, Mo can look after herself but, OK, I will keep an eye out.’
‘And keep an eye out for yourself too,’ he says.
‘Now you’re being ridiculous, Trist. They’re just walking us back to The Lookout. Nothing’s going to happen.’
Jane steps forward and hugs Cara. ‘Enjoy, sweet girl, but maintain perspective.’
Cara groans. ‘Not you too! Three dances and you think I’ve lost all reasoning.’
‘I’m just saying…’ Turning her palms up to the sky, Jane pulls a face and raises her eyebrows.
Cara studies Tristan’s girlfriend for a moment. Both women are acutely aware of the good-looking actor standing only a few yards away. He has powerful magnetism.
‘Thanks, guys,’ Cara calls out across the sand to Rick and Tania, still sitting on the log on the far side of the fire. ‘It was a great evening.’
‘Glad you had a good time,’ Rick says, saluting her with his beer bottle. ‘There will be many more, won’t there, Tan?’
‘Yeah,’ Tania mumbles, her eyes glued to Oliver.
Cara turns back, her stomach double-somersaulting when she sees the look in Oliver’s eyes. Perhaps Tristan is right.
‘Goodbyes over?’ asks Tas, steering Morwenna into the darkness, but not before she’s looked over her shoulder and pulled an amazed face at Cara. Oliver and Cara fall into step behind them.
‘It’s a beautiful night,’ says Oliver, wishing he could be as natural with Cara as Tas is with Morwenna. He wants to put his arm around her so badly.
Cara glances up at the sky. ‘Yes, it is, but we get quite a few like this.’
‘No pollution,’ Oliver comments. He has not felt this nervous or awkward since a teenager. So far their conversations have, at best, been stilted but his feelings are overflowing. ‘How long have you lived in the cove?’
She steals a glance. He is so ruggedly good-looking in the moonlight. Unaccustomedly, Cara feels shy.
‘Well, Beth’s just turned nine. We moved in a year before she was born, so ten years… give or take.’
So there is a ‘we’. Of
course there is! He knew she couldn’t be on her own.
Despite the cool night air, Oliver’s skin is hot and clammy. Her partner – or husband – obviously couldn’t make the party for some reason and that eager young man must have seized the opportunity to get close in his absence. Well, he can certainly understand that! Drawing deeply on his training as an actor, Oliver focuses his mind to override his emotions. When he speaks his voice sounds remarkably normal.
‘I have a nine-year-old. Jamie.’
‘Is he here with you now?’
‘No. The family is in Surrey. It’s just me here for the summer.’
Just you… for the summer.
‘Perhaps they’ll visit when it gets warmer,’ she suggests.
‘Maybe,’ he says doubtfully.
Cara steals another glance. He sounds so adrift.
Is that it, then? For God’s sake, speak to her.
‘Samantha’s seventeen and at the stage when spending time with her old man is no longer considered cool. Charlie’s fifteen and has a girlfriend so I don’t think he’ll be easily prised away. I only recently found out he’s been dating for over a year,’ he says incredulously. ‘And Sebastian’s eleven and very self-sufficient. He loves football and as long as he can kick a ball around he doesn’t mind where he is.’
But Jamie, thinks Oliver, would like it here, and his heart swells at the thought of his quiet, sensitive, youngest child.
‘They sound a great family,’ Cara says. Oliver nods briefly, his lips twitching into a small smile. ‘I’m sure, in the future, your daughter will want to spend time in your company again.’
She wonders what his wife’s like. Gorgeous, no doubt. Unsuccessfully, Cara tries to recall any media photos of his family.
They walk on in silence, listening to the sound of waves breaking some distance away.
Oliver welcomes the peace and tranquillity, allowing it to calm his racing heart. ‘You are very lucky to live here,’ he says with feeling.
‘Well, I think so,’ Cara says, wondering at his wistfulness. ‘But you must have travelled all over the world and experienced many beautiful places.’
‘I have, that’s true, but there’s something particularly magical about this place. It’s so free.’
So, he feels it too! Who’d have thought that someone with all his worldly experience would be so attuned to the cove’s unique atmosphere? Not only great-looking, but also sensitive and deep…
From some distance ahead they hear Morwenna squeal. Suddenly, emerging out of the darkness, she rushes past laughing. Tas is only a few yards behind.
‘Just bagging myself a fair Cornish maid,’ he says, as he passes by.
Oliver grins, but quickly the grin fades. How he wishes he could do just that. They hear Morwenna shriek and then burst into giggles. Cara chuckles. Tristan would be beside himself if he could hear his sister now.
Oliver glances at Cara. He loves the sound of her laughter, which contradicts the haunting sadness in her eyes. He has never met anyone so desirable. Everything about her is perfect to him: her lovely oval face with its small straight nose; her beautifully shaped pale lips just waiting to be kissed; her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders and glistening in the moonlight. And it’s obvious her clothes disguise a neat figure. Desire stirs.
‘That’s my place,’ Cara says, pointing to a light suspended halfway up the cliff face. ‘There are steps just round the corner.’
Oliver’s senses, already strained to breaking point, tip over into panic mode. Surely it’s not going to end here?
They walk on in silence. A few yards further on, wooden steps, little more than a ladder, rise up the rock face.
‘Stairway to heaven,’ Oliver whispers.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘Not important.’ He shakes his head and smiles at her.
Cara looks beyond him to the sea. In the moonlight, at the water’s edge, Morwenna and Tas are locked in a passionate embrace. Yes, Tristan would be well panicked by now. Perhaps she should try and slow things down. She turns towards Rick’s Beach Hut. The main lights have been switched off but the fairy lights are still on and a healthy glow emanates from the embers of the fire. She breathes in the salt air. Oh, how she loves this cove. It fills her soul and gives her solace.
‘Anyone for coffee?’ she calls out in Morwenna and Tas’s direction, and Oliver raises his eyes to the night sky, silently thanking God.
As Cara climbs, Oliver follows, his breath hitching in his throat as he savours the rise and fall of her neat buttocks.
‘Only twenty-eight steps,’ she calls out over her shoulder.
‘No wonder you’re all so fit in Cornwall.’
Cara laughs, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Well, you must be doing something right in Surrey.’
Oliver stops and looks up at her disappearing figure. He, too, smiles at the compliment but almost immediately the smile freezes on his face. What the hell is he doing? He feels like some love-struck teenager, not knowing what to do or how to react, and his thoughts turn to his eldest son and his girlfriend dilemma. Deanna, Samantha, Charlie, Sebastian and Jamie are his life. What is he thinking?
Cara reaches the top step and glances down. Seeing Oliver’s disquiet envelop him like a grey cloud, she wonders at this handsome man whose public image is so powerful and self-assured, yet the person he has presented her with appears troubled and full of doubt.
‘Are you intending to finish the climb?’ she asks.
Oliver looks up to see Cara watching him. Highlighted from behind by The Lookout’s porch light, she appears shrouded in a golden glow. The look on her face is thoughtful and full of concern, and she simply takes his breath away.
‘Yes,’ he whispers.
As Oliver emerges onto the top step, a black and white cat suddenly appears round the corner of the bungalow. Calling a greeting, it trots towards Cara with its tail bolt upright.
‘Hello, Basil. What have you been up to tonight?’ She bends to stroke it. Rising off its front paws, the cat pushes its head into the palm of her hand. ‘This is another family member,’ she says to Oliver, ‘or have you two already met?’
Oliver shakes his head, bemused. Has he arrived in some enchanted land?
Cara regards him for a moment and then opens the stable door. ‘Welcome to The Lookout,’ she says before disappearing inside.
Oliver inhales deeply, the sea air tickling his senses, and takes a long look at this magical world in which he finds himself. From the light of the moon he can see that The Lookout is a modest bungalow with a couple of gables and obvious extensions. It’s a hotchpotch affair. To one end, a flat-roofed two-storey extension has been added. In fact, the bungalow looks like a child’s Lego building with several afterthoughts. Nevertheless, it has charm and is not the least ostentatious. Behind the building he can sense the dark bulk of the cliffs rising high above its roofline. Turning his attention to the beach, he looks for Tas and Morwenna but they are nowhere to be seen. The moon casts its silvery light upon the ocean, scything a path across the surface, and Oliver listens to the waves gently breaking on the shore. Apart from that, all is silent. As the peace and tranquillity of the cove seduce him, Oliver knows that now he’s brought Cara safely to her door he must walk away.
But she has left the door open…
Entering a porch full of children’s paraphernalia, he smiles. This is so familiar. He walks through to a simply furnished living room, its walls and wood panelling painted white. Even the exposed floorboards are whitewashed. Against the far wall is a wood-burning stove set on a slate hearth, and to one side is a dusky blue sofa with blue and white striped scatter cushions. A matching armchair is positioned against the opposite wall. A dining table and chairs fill a bay window, from which Oliver imagines there must be fantastic views along the cove. The room is simple, clean and totally authentic, without a whiff of an interior designer’s staged idea of beachside living.
This is the real deal.
> Glancing through an opening into a galley kitchen, he sees Cara at the sink, filling a kettle.
She looks over her shoulder. ‘How do you take your coffee?’
‘White please. No sugar.’
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she says, turning back to the sink.
Fighting an overwhelming urge to seize the kettle from her and take her in his arms, Oliver moves further into the living room. The art on the walls is obviously Cara’s and displayed on the far wall, dominating the room, is a full-sized electric-blue surfboard. On it – painted Andy Warhol style – are the faces of a stunning, younger Cara and a golden, open-faced man. His heart races at the sight of a teenage Cara and this glimpse into her past, but it’s the young man that demands his attention. The face looking down at him is natural, sunny and full of character; an adult version of Sky.
This has got to be the missing husband/partner. Will he walk in at any moment? Perhaps Cara is just friendly and thinks nothing of inviting strangers back to their place for coffee. Maybe that’s how this golden, free-spirited couple live.
All at once Oliver feels trapped. His life has always seemed relatively free and certainly smoothly run – largely due to his wife’s efficient nature – but recently it has felt neither quite so smooth nor free. He is still standing in the middle of the room staring at the surfboard when Cara emerges from the kitchen.
‘Ah, you’ve spotted the board,’ she says, then cringes. What a ridiculous thing to say! How could he possibly not?
‘It’s stunning,’ he says. But what he really wants to say is that she is stunning… in every way.
‘Thank you. It was one of the pieces I did for my degree.’
‘Where did you study?’ he asks.
‘Oh, I didn’t go far. Falmouth.’
Everything you could ever want is here in this county.
‘It was a great time,’ she says, and Oliver detects a wistfulness.
‘And the young man? With that face he must be Sky’s father.’
‘Yes, Christo,’ she says gazing up at the familiar face. She swallows the lump forming in her throat, refusing to give in to the emotion.
So, your name is Christo. Why aren’t you here with your beautiful wife tonight? Perhaps you’re a fisherman? You look the outdoor type. Maybe you are at sea now and will return in the early hours after you’ve landed your catch? Oliver is stunned at the level of jealousy consuming him and shocked by the anger that swiftly follows. Why the hell are you not here?