[Polwenna Bay 01.0] Runaway Summer

by Ruth Saberton

  To be sixteen, pregnant and all alone in a strange city was probably top of the list of the most terrifying things that could happen to a young girl. Summer still tasted the fear now and her heart ached for the frightened teen she’d been. She’d tried to reach Jake, pouring everything out to him in a heartfelt letter, but there’d been no reply. After several weeks had limped past, Summer had come to the painful realisation that he wasn’t interested and certainly wasn’t about to help.

  Rudely awakened from all the half-formed, hazy little daydreams that she’d started to weave, involving flowers and white dresses and a cute toddler bridesmaid with Jake’s blonde curls and her own green eyes, Summer had made a panicked appointment with the nearest family-planning clinic. She’d made it as far as the waiting room, where she’d sat studiously avoiding the gaze of the other women there. As the clock had ticked the minutes away, her resolve had started to evaporate; before her name had even been called, Summer was heading back towards the bus stop, cold with horror at how close she’d come to making a decision she would have regretted. She might have been young and on her own but Summer’s mind had been made up: no matter what happened, she was keeping her baby.

  Later that night, when she’d woken wracked with cramps and an overwhelming sense of bereavement, Summer had cried bitterly. The mixture of sadness and relief had haunted her ever since and she still wondered whether what had happened was her punishment for even thinking about a termination.

  Of course, the adult Summer knew that this was utter nonsense. The logical part of her would have argued with anyone that sixteen was far too young for her to have been a parent and that everything had worked out for the best. Yet sometimes when she caught a curly blonde head out of the corner of her eye or saw eleven-year-old girls ransacking Claire’s Accessories, her heart twisted painfully with grief.

  So right now, in the doctor’s surgery, she couldn’t help but wonder whether this was yet another punishment. Richard Penwarren could go on as much as he liked about statistics and how one in five pregnancies ended in a miscarriage, but none of that eased her guilty conscience. Maybe it was the superstitious Cornish blood in her?

  Once she’d sipped some water and reassured both the doctor and Jake that she was feeling well enough to stand, Summer was left alone with Jo, the practice nurse, who was in charge of the practicalities. Summer had been at school with Jo, a kind but bossy girl who’d been in the year above and gloried in her role of head prefect; she didn’t seem to have changed much. As Jo weighed her and took her blood, Summer thought that there was something comforting about being fussed over by her now. She half expected to be told to tuck her shirt in and not to fidget in assembly, the crime that had always driven Jo half demented.

  Would her babies have been little wrigglers, unable to sit still just like her? The lump was back in her throat because she’d never know now.

  “Here, have these,” Jo said, catching the misery on Summer’s face and thrusting a box of Kleenex in her direction. “I know you’re feeling dreadful right now. It’s OK to cry, love. It’s a horrible thing to happen and your hormones will be all over the place.”

  “Thanks.” Summer dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. God, all she seemed to do was cry these days. When had life become so complicated?

  “Jo, was it anything I did wrong? I was really anxious today. Could that have done it?”

  “I doubt that very much. I’m afraid it was probably just one of those things. It happens more than you’d think. Still, you are very thin and quite underweight,” Jo observed, peering at the charts. A short woman, as round as she was tall and with rosy apple cheeks, she obviously saw this as a bad thing. “You need to build yourself up a bit. I really don’t think you could have done anything to prevent what happened; I’m just concerned that you should look after yourself going forwards.”

  “I’ve been stressed,” Summer said. Her hand rose to her fading bruise. Stressed? What an understatement that was. Bloody terrified came closer.

  “That must have been quite a shiner,” Jo remarked casually. “How did that happen?”

  The scene in the kitchen flashed before Summer’s vision: Justin’s face red with rage, the bulging vein crawling across his temple like an obscene worm, the spittle gathering in the corners of his mouth, and then the kitchen island flying up towards her.

  “I fell over a while back. I tripped. Could that have been it?”

  Jo’s candid hazel gaze met hers and Summer knew instantly that the other woman understood exactly what kind of fall it had been.

  “It’s unlikely but it could be something to do with it, although a foetus is generally pretty tough. Still, take my advice, Summer, and make sure that you don’t have that kind of fall again?”

  “I’m fully intending never to fall like that again,” Summer promised her. She meant it too. Let Justin do his worst now; she really didn’t care. He could badmouth her to the press as much as he liked. She couldn’t give a hoot. In fact, let him try. Maybe she’d hire a top lawyer of her own and see how much he liked it? The tabloids and celebrity magazines would love to know the truth about football’s golden boy.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Jo as she scribbled detailed notes onto labels and stuck them onto the test tubes of dark red blood she’d just drawn. “We’ll send these off to the lab but I bet you’re anaemic too. I’ll ask Richard to write you a prescription for iron tablets. Put some weight on, relax a bit and it’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

  “Thanks.” Summer didn’t have the heart to point out that in her world you could never be too thin and that feeling permanently hungry was just a fact of life to her. Jo looked as though she inhaled clotted cream and pasties. As for iron, Summer guessed that avoiding red meat for almost a decade hadn’t helped.

  “And how long are you staying here for?” Jo was asking. “I’m not being nosey, by the way. I’m just wondering what’s best to do with your notes and where to send the results of these bloods.”

  This was a very good question. How long was she staying at Polwenna Bay? Until her mother spoke to her again? That could be a very long time. She only had another few days in the cottage before the next booking meant she had to move out. She’d have to return to London at some point.

  It was time to face the music.

  “It’s lovely to see that you and Jake have got back together,” Jo continued cheerfully, not waiting for a reply. She rammed the test tubes into a plastic bag. “You always were such a lovely couple at school, and it was so romantic the way he had to travel the world before coming back and finding you again. He never stopped loving you, did he? And hasn’t he improved with age? He’s gorgeous! We all adore Jake here. He’s a guilty pleasure for lots of us! Not like my Steven. Bald as a coot he is now, bless him! You must remember what a lovely head of hair he had?”

  Summer didn’t remember Steven at all, but then she’d never had eyes for anyone apart from Jake.

  “Jake and I aren’t together,” she said quickly. “I’m engaged to Justin Anderson. The footballer?”

  Jo pulled a face. “Can’t say I know much about him but I’m sure he’s not a patch on Jake. That man adores you, Summer. It’s obvious. Don’t walk away from him again, that’s my advice. There’s plenty here who’d snap him up in a heartbeat. Annie Fanny from the hotel, for one. Me for another, if I can get someone to take on my Steve! You two are meant to be together. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “It didn’t end too well for them as I recall,” Summer pointed out.

  Jo flapped her comment away with her hand. “Minor details! Lizzie and Darcy then! Or even Kate and Wills. Take your pick.”

  Summer smiled. “You’re a hopeless romantic, Jo. Jake’s just a good friend, that’s all, and he’s got a kind heart. There’s nothing else between us.”

  “And if you really think that then we’d better do another test. This one, I think!” declared Jo, pointing to the vision chart and grinning. Then the smile slipped away and her expression sett
led into serious lines. “Teasing aside, Summer, please be kind to yourself. You’ve been through a horrible thing today and you need to rest up. Take the painkillers and let those who care about you, hot male friends or otherwise, in. OK?”

  “You don’t get that kind of advice in Harley Street,” said Summer. It was a weak attempt at a joke but at least she was trying. Right now she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to laugh again.

  Jo’s nose wrinkled in disdain. “Harley Street? What do you need to go up country for when you’ve got everything you could ever need in Polwenna Bay? That’s what I say.”

  As Summer left the consulting room she was inclined to agree with her old school friend. London wasn’t holding much appeal right now and she could hardly wait to return to her cottage and burrow under the duvet, listening to the gulls arguing on the rooftop and being lulled to sleep by the waves. She’d get some rest as Jo had suggested, cry a bit more maybe, and then she’d screw up her courage and visit her parents. What would come next she had no idea. Afraid of the black void before her, Summer pushed all thoughts of the future away.

  That was a problem for another day.

  Chapter 30

  Jake wasn’t the kind of man who would dream of imposing his will on a woman – being brought up by Alice and alongside two strong-willed sisters had taught him a thing or two about how the female mind worked – but neither was he the kind of person to abandon someone in need of some care. Today he knew that Summer was shaken and needed looking after. Two horrible shocks in such close proximity were too much for anyone to cope with.

  “I’ll be fine back at the holiday cottage,” Summer insisted once they were walking away from the surgery and back through the village. Her chin was set at the familiar stubborn angle he remembered so well and her green eyes were filled with a determined expression. “I can look after myself.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second,” Jake told her calmly. “But the point is that you don’t have to look after yourself, because you’re coming up to Seaspray where we’ll take care of you. You’ve been through far too much for one morning. Anyway, those look like bloody strong painkillers to me and I’m not going to leave you on your own to take them. Once your folks are back home then by all means go back to the cottage, but until then we’re looking after you up at the house. No arguments. It’s not up for debate.”

  Summer opened her mouth to object but swayed unsteadily on her feet. Jake could tell by the waxy pallor of her cheeks that she was feeling dreadful.

  “I’m not meaning to order you about. Please just humour me on this one?” he said gently, cupping her face in his hands and gazing down at her. God, but he just wanted to take care of her, keep her safe from harm. He was just a breath away from telling her how she still made him feel, because Ella had been right: he was still in love with Summer. Jake didn’t think he’d ever stopped loving her and seeing her so broken now was tearing his own heart into ribbons. He would have done anything to wipe the tears away from her eyes and make her smile again. Tenderly, his fingertips traced the curve of her cheek before resting against her soft lips, stopping any protests before she could voice them.

  “You’ve been so brave, Summer. Not just about what’s happened today but also about what’s brought you here too. You don’t have to tell me about any of it, not if you don’t want to, but I’ve seen enough of the world to be able to draw my own conclusions.” He smiled at her sadly. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to be brave when you’re with me. I want to take those burdens away, even for an hour or two. I want to take care of you.”

  His hands slipped to her shoulders and Summer exhaled, a deep shuddering breath, which felt to Jake as though she’d been holding it for far too long.

  “I’d like that,” she told him quietly.

  So together Jake and Summer walked through the village, skirting the harbour – where crowds still lingered and a BBC local news team was busy putting together a report – before making the slow climb up to Seaspray. By the time they reached the house Summer was looking exhausted. She didn’t even protest when Jake helped her up the steps to the door and into the kitchen. This alarmed him because Summer was always so independent, so single-minded, traits that he loved and was driven crazy by in equal measure.

  For once the house was empty; Jake supposed that everyone was still in the village or dealing with the aftermath of the almost-tragedy. While the kettle hissed away on the hob and Summer settled onto the tatty sofa, the cat instantly claiming her lap, he checked Nick’s room in case his brother had passed out again, but it was deserted. Only the stale smell of beer and the still-closed curtains gave evidence that Nick had been there at all. Zak’s room was also empty; his holdall was gone and the bed covers had been stripped away. Jake gritted his teeth in annoyance because it was typical of Zak to run at the first hint of trouble and leave Nick to carry the can. The patterns and habits of childhood died hard, it seemed.

  It was just him and Summer here then, and this knowledge made Jake’s resolve harden. It was time they had an upfront conversation. He’d seen enough of Summer now to guess what her life had been like recently. Behind the glitter of her fame and the glossy celebrity-magazine photo shoots lay something ugly and destructive.

  And he loved her far too much to say nothing and risk her going back to it.

  The kitchen was quiet in the bright light that swept in from the sea and bounced off the white walls. The clock ticked gently, the cat purred and the mugs chinked as Jake carried them over to the sofa.

  She smiled up at him. “Tea. How very British.”

  Jake laughed. “Yeah, they gave me hell for it in Australia. They were always bemused by my filthy PG habit. They thought I should be drinking Foster’s like all the other Bruces.”

  “So did you?”

  “Ever tried dipping Rich Tea biscuits in lager?” Jake shuddered. “No thanks.”

  Summer smiled, her eyes lighting up just like deep rock pools when the sun shone into them, and he found himself thinking that he would do anything to make sure that she smiled every day for the rest of her life.

  It was time to be honest.

  Jake placed his mug on the floor and sat down beside her, reaching out and taking her hands in his. Just this simple gesture knocked him sideways at the kick it gave his emotions. Those small hands fitted into his as though they’d been designed that way. Maybe they had.

  “Sums, what’s been going on?” he asked, tracing her bitten fingertips with his own. “I don’t want to seem like I’m prying and you don’t have to answer if you’d rather not, but I’m worried about you.”

  She sighed. “I will tell you the truth about what’s been happening with me, I promise, but first I need you to tell me something and I need you to be honest, no matter how painful you think it might be.”

  His eyes held hers. “Summer, I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you and every moment since. There’s nothing that you can’t ask me.”

  She hesitated for a while, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, before sliding her hands away from him and clasping them tightly in her lap.

  “If you loved me so much then why didn’t you come when I wrote to you?” she said quietly. “I was so scared, Jake, and I didn’t know what to do for the best, but I thought you would be there for me. It broke me when you ignored the letter.”

  Jake frowned. “What letter? Did you send it before you arrived? I wonder if Gran’s tidied it up? It’s probably on the dresser with a pile of Dad’s credit-card bills.”

  “Not a recent letter. I mean the one I sent you from London when I first moved there for drama school. The one where I told you that I was pregnant and that I needed you.” Tears fell now and she brushed them away angrily. “I poured my heart out in that letter. I couldn’t understand how you could have ignored me.”

  Jake stared at Summer, his mind whirling as he sought to process what she’d just told him.

  “Are you saying that when you left here
you were pregnant? That you were having our baby?”

  “Yes!” Summer cried. Her eyes shone with more tears. “I didn’t know until I’d been there a week or so, but as soon as I did I wrote to you and I told you everything. How sorry I was that I’d left the way I did, how I wanted to come home, how much I loved you, how much I wanted to have the baby even though we were so young…” She paused, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to slow her breathing. Once her emotions were sufficiently under control to continue, she added, “When I didn’t hear from you I knew that it was over and that I was on my own. I understood that your being a part of my life was over.”

  “That’s why you hardly ever come back?” Like sea mist clearing and revealing the village, everything was suddenly starting to make sense.

  “How could I after that? It was far too painful.”

  She was weeping bitterly and Jake couldn’t bear this. Pulling her into his arms he held her close and pressed his face into her hair until the torrent of emotion began to ebb. As she wiped her eyes, Jake struggled to grasp what he had just learned. The mental landscape of the past decade or so had shifted and the seismic impact was so enormous that he felt disorientated. Summer had tried to tell him that she’d still loved him. She’d wanted to come back to the village and hadn’t just turned her back on him without a second thought, as he’d believed for so long. She hadn’t stopped loving him. She’d wanted to come home to him. She’d thought that he had turned his back on her.

  This changed everything and his heart broke at the thought of all the time they’d wasted because of these misunderstandings.

  Jake dropped a kiss onto Summer’s damp forehead then released her gently, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

  “I had no idea,” he said quietly. “Summer, I swear I never knew anything about any of this. I certainly never saw any letter, let alone got to read it. Christ, if I had I would have been on the first train to Paddington. There’s no way that I would have let you go. When I didn’t hear from you again I assumed it was because you’d moved on and didn’t want to know me.”