by Annie Lyons
‘I’m all right, thanks,’ said Charlie.
‘Okay. I’ll see if the others want one. Back in a sec.’
Cat and the children sat for a few minutes in silence, listening to the sound of happy holidaymakers and the constant crash of the waves. There was something calming about them sitting here together, just being. Cat experienced the same sensation as she had during their cycle ride. She had nowhere to be but here and nothing to do but exist in that moment. It was both reassuring and liberating.
‘Why do people have to die?’ asked Ellie looking up at her aunt.
It was inevitable that she would ask this question; Cat just wished that Andrew had been around to deal with it. She took a deep breath. ‘Well, people either get sick or they get old and their bodies don’t work properly any more.’
‘I don’t want to die,’ declared Ellie.
‘You don’t need to worry about that. It happens mostly to older people.’
‘But Grampy wasn’t that old.’
‘No but he was sick.’
‘I hate cancer,’ said Ellie. ‘Mummy said cancer is a bastard.’
‘Well that is true but you probably shouldn’t use that word.’
‘I don’t know what it means.’
‘Probably best to avoid words if you don’t know what they mean.’
‘Did your mum and dad die of cancer?’ asked Ellie.
Cat’s body stiffened. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘They didn’t.’
‘Oh. How did they die?’
‘Ellie,’ warned Charlie. ‘You’re not allowed to ask those questions. Dad said.’
‘Sorry,’ said Ellie looking contrite.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Cat, staring at her nephew.
Charlie wouldn’t meet her eye. ‘Dad said not to ask you. He said you don’t like to talk about it.’
Cat felt a surge of adrenaline. She didn’t like the idea that she’d been discussed in this way. It made her seem vulnerable and Cat Nightingale was never vulnerable. She didn’t need to be protected or mollycoddled. She could take care of herself. Her thoughts were interrupted as Ronnie returned with the ice-creams and Ellie’s grief was temporarily soothed with sugar. Afterwards, Finn tried to engage the children in a game of French cricket but the mood was heavy with sadness so they decided to cut their losses a while later and head back to the cottage.
They were all sitting in the living room when Andrew returned, his face pale with concern. Cat felt annoyed with him following Charlie’s revelation but she knew it was irrational. She also knew that he didn’t need any more hassle at the moment.
‘I think I might have to catch a train back this evening,’ he said. ‘Mel needs me to sort some stuff for her and it’s impossible to keep in touch properly without a decent signal.’
‘I can give you a lift back,’ offered Ronnie.
‘Thanks,’ said Andrew. ‘That will be great.’
‘I don’t want you to go, Daddy,’ sobbed Ellie, clinging on to her father’s arm.
‘I’m sorry, pumpkin, but Mummy needs me and Cat’s here,’ said Andrew looking at his sister. ‘She’ll look after you.’
‘But Cat gets sad if we talk about people dying because it reminds her of your mum and dad dying,’ said Ellie with frightening insight.
Cat felt all eyes on her. ‘It’s okay,’ she said embarrassed. ‘You don’t have to worry about me.’ She got up from the table and busied herself by filling the kettle. Andrew approached her.
‘I’m sorry, Cat. I just didn’t want the kids to upset you.’
She turned to look at him. ‘I know but I don’t need protecting.’
He put an arm around her. ‘I’m your brother. It’s what we do.’
She shrugged him off gently to show that she wasn’t cross. ‘Go on, go home and sort out Melissa’s stuff. She needs you.’
He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks, sis.’
Ellie and Daisy were inconsolable after Ronnie and Andrew left. Ronnie gave Cat a tight hug and told her to call if she needed anything. The girls settled down to watch television whilst Cat sat at the kitchen table flicking idly through a magazine and Finn made pasta salad for dinner. Despite opening all the doors and windows, it was oppressively hot in the cottage. Cat found that she couldn’t concentrate on the articles in front of her. In days gone by she would have been fascinated to read about Alexa Chung’s new clothing collection but whether it was the heat or the mood in the house, she felt her mind wandering. Charlie was sitting opposite her, drawing. She enjoyed watching him at work – that small frown of concentration on his brow, the careful sketching and regular pauses to sit back and appraise his work.
She pushed her magazine to one side and looked over at him. ‘Am I allowed to see?’ she asked.
He frowned for a second before nodding and sliding it over to her. ‘It’s a card for Granny.’ She smiled at his work. There was a picture of two figures playing cricket. One of them had a speech bubble filled with the word ‘Howzat!’
‘Grampy taught me to play cricket when we visited them last year,’ explained Charlie. ‘That was before he got sick.’
‘Did you used to speak to them over the internet?’ asked Cat.
‘Every weekend, even when he got sick. His face sort of shrunk and looked sucked in but he was always funny and cracking jokes. I can’t believe I won’t see him again.’
It was a simple statement but something about the awful truth behind it touched Cat’s heart unexpectedly. She opened her mouth to speak and realised that she didn’t know what to say. She knew she should probably offer some words of consolation or comfort but it occurred to her that she had none. ‘It’s a beautiful card,’ she said after a moment. ‘I think your granny will really appreciate it.’
‘I wrote something inside but I’m not sure if it’s okay.’
Sensing that he was asking for her opinion, Cat opened the card and read:
‘To Granny,
I am sorry that Gramps has died. I feel very sad that I won’t see him again but I expect you feel even sadder. I loved playing cricket with him when we visited you last year. It was the best day of my life when he took me to the WACA. I hope we can see you soon.
Love,
Charlie’
‘It’s perfect,’ said Cat, swallowing down the sadness that was rising up inside her.
Charlie beamed with pride. ‘I need to colour in the front.’ Cat pushed it back towards him and watched as he continued his work. He glanced up at her after a time. ‘Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’
Cat sensed what was coming. ‘Go on.’
‘Do you still miss your mum and dad?’
Cat knew that Finn was listening, his body angled in their direction as he chopped tomatoes by the sink. ‘Every single day,’ she answered.
‘Is that why you don’t want to talk about them? Because it upsets you too much?’
Cat swallowed. ‘I think so.’
Charlie paused and looked her in the eye. ‘Because you can talk to me if you want. I don’t mind if you cry.’
Cat’s chest tightened, not for the sadness of her loss but for the kindness of the gesture. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Now why don’t you finish that and maybe we can catch the post tonight.’
‘Okay,’ he said, turning back to his work.
Cat glanced up at Finn who was staring at her now. ‘Do you need a hand with dinner?’ she asked, suppressing any trace of emotion. She could see that he wanted to reach out to her somehow but she was determined not to betray any vulnerability. This was someone else’s grief. It had nothing to do with her own. She did not need sympathy.
‘No I think I’m okay,’ he said, giving her a look that suggested he knew exactly what she was doing.
‘I’ll go and check on the girls then,’ she said, standing up and disappearing into the living room.
The rest of the day seemed to drag unbearably so that even the children appeared relieved when bedt
ime came. After the girls were tucked up, Cat came downstairs half-hoping that Charlie would stay up. He was gathering his belongings to take upstairs when she appeared in the doorway to the dining room.
‘You don’t have to go up yet,’ she said.
Charlie shook his head. ‘S’okay. I just want to chill and listen to some music. I’m quite tired,’ he yawned. ‘Night, Cat. Night, Finn.’
‘Night, mate,’ called Finn. Cat watched Charlie go with a nagging dread. She glanced through to the living room. Finn was sitting in a chair, quietly playing his guitar. He looked up and smiled as she walked in. ‘All tucked in?’ he asked.
‘Yep.’
‘Fancy a beer?’ he offered, putting his guitar to one side and walking through to the kitchen.
‘Actually, I’m wondering if I might have an early night too. It’s been a long day,’ she said, stifling a yawn.
He glanced up at the clock. ‘It’s eight-thirty,’ he said with one eyebrow raised.
‘I know but it’s been a tiring day,’ she replied, knowing that this sounded pathetic.
He stared at her for a moment in silence, the merest smile on his lips. He was wearing that vaguely all-knowing look that had made her want to punch him when they first met.
‘What?’ she said, holding his gaze.
‘Why do you do that?’
‘What?’
‘Shut people out.’
Cat felt her heartbeat quicken. Damn this man and his intuition. ‘I don’t. I’m just tired.’
‘Uh-huh.’ It wasn’t even a word but it infuriated Cat. Finn said it all with one sound: I know you’re lying and you do too.
‘Okay. Fine. You’re sure I’ve got a deep, dark secret from the past so let’s get this over with.’
‘Why are you getting cross?’
‘Because you think you know it all and you don’t.’ Her voice was trembling with anger but she was actually more furious with herself. She didn’t do emotional outpourings. She had never been a hysterical woman and she was determined not to start now. Of course, it was worse because Finn was so calm and reasonable. There was nothing more annoying to a furious person that the voice of reason.
He fetched two beers, opened them and held out one to Cat. ‘So tell me,’ he said. ‘And I promise not to judge, comment or counsel unless you want me to.’
Cat accepted the beer and sat down on the couch. Finn took one of the armchairs and kept his eyes on her as she spoke. ‘My parents died when I was sixteen and Andrew was twelve. They were going away for a night to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. A lorry hit their car on the motorway and they were killed instantly.’ Cat did her best to keep her voice steady. She hadn’t told this story for a long time and tried to tell it as if it were just that – a story about someone else. She noticed that Finn didn’t say anything. He was as good as his word. He made no comment and offered no verbal sympathy but his gaze was constant and unexpectedly reassuring.
She continued. ‘They were a devoted couple and wonderful parents. We were very lucky and it was a huge shock. We went to live with our grandparents, who were kind and loving. I suppose that was lucky too. I went to university a couple of years later and Andrew stayed with our grandparents until it was his turn to go. Plenty of people are worse off. At least we were loved. I know you and Ronnie had a much tougher time. We were lucky.’ She looked over at Finn. He was sitting quietly, watching her. She almost wished he’d say something now; this silent observation was starting to unnerve her. ‘So now you know the story of me,’ she said with finality. ‘You can speak now if you want.’
‘I’m amazed at how together you are. Losing your parents at any age is traumatic enough but losing them as a teenager is terrible,’ he said.
Cat knew he was digging and kept her voice steady as she replied. ‘Like I say, there are plenty of people worse off. I think you and Ronnie had a much tougher time.’
‘Why do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Deflect your own feelings by changing the subject.’
‘I don’t see the need to dwell on the past,’ said Cat.
Finn stared at her with an intensity that made Cat long to look away. ‘What are you afraid of?’
She flashed with anger. ‘I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t need to hark back to the past. I’m happy in the present.’
‘Some might say that you can’t really be happy until you’ve been sad first,’ offered Finn.
‘And some might say that you get a smack in the chops if you carry on trying to counsel me. I don’t need it or want it, do you understand?’ Cat kept her voice light but Finn registered her exasperation.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I need to learn to keep my big mouth shut.’
‘Yes you do.’ Finn looked contrite and Cat softened. ‘Look, you’re a nice guy and I appreciate you caring.’
‘Do you?’ he asked. There was that gaze again – that intense gaze with a hint of longing.
Cat looked away this time. ‘I do but I really don’t need a counsellor or a protector or a boyfriend. I’m happy on my own in the here and now.’ She sat back satisfied that she was nipping any potential misunderstanding in the bud.
Finn got up from his chair and walked over to where she was sitting. She was taken aback but didn’t move away. He knelt down next to her and stared into her eyes for a moment. Very gently he leant forwards until his face was alongside hers. She swallowed as she felt his warm breath on her neck. ‘Don’t be afraid to let people in,’ he said softly before getting up and walking towards the door. He turned back and smiled. ‘I think I’m going to turn in. Night.’
‘Night,’ said Cat surprised and slightly flustered by his sudden exit. She stayed on the sofa for a good half hour more trying to work out what had just happened. When she eventually went to bed, she tossed and turned for another hour, getting more and more vexed by Finn Thomas and the relative ease with which he seemed able to get under her skin.
Chapter Eighteen
Over the next week, Cat did her best to keep Finn at arm’s length. She noticed him watching her from time to time, that half-smile never far from his lips, and she would turn away, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She was annoyed by her reaction. She wasn’t some simpering female longing to be swept off her feet. Cat Nightingale did all the sweeping in her life and she’d paid for the broom with her own money. She immersed herself in spending time with the children. She noticed that they stayed closer to her since the news about Melissa’s father. Ellie was like a little shadow with Daisy not far behind and on more than one occasion she would turn round to find that Charlie had settled into the chair next to her, like a cat longing for company. In the past she might have found this neediness suffocating but now she savoured it, not least because if she was occupied with the children, she didn’t need to think about Finn.
When she was alone, however, Cat found that he sidled into her brain with his customary nonchalance, unannounced and uninvited. On the second-to-last day of the holiday, she woke from a dream in which Finn had been kissing her. It had been a slow kiss, intense and filled with hunger, like something from a film. She woke with a breathless start and a hint of regretful longing, which she banished immediately by throwing back the covers and getting up. They had simply spent too much time together; that was all. It was natural to have weird dreams about people you saw all the time. She’d once had a filthy dream about the man who used to fix the air conditioning at work and he bore a passing resemblance to Jeremy Clarkson. The brain was a mysterious thing, occasionally throwing up warped and vaguely perverted thoughts to keep you on your toes.
Cat pulled on her dressing gown and padded downstairs in search of tea. Finn was teaching Charlie how to play chords on the guitar. He glanced up and smiled as she entered the room.
‘Morning!’ she chimed, turning away quickly. ‘Anyone for tea?’
‘Got one, thanks,’ replied Finn. She nodded and made her way to the kitchen. ‘Oh Cat?’
Cat turned. He was grinning at her and she was suddenly fearful that he’d heard her call out his name or worse found a way to infiltrate her thoughts; she wouldn’t put it past him. ‘Yes?’
‘You might want to sort out your dressing gown at the back. I can sort of see your underwear,’ he whispered.
Cat’s hand shot to the back of her dressing gown. Oh bugger! Very cool, very together, Cat, well done. She sorted out the wardrobe malfunction, tying the cord tightly round her middle.
Charlie giggled. ‘That’s funny,’ he declared.
‘Where are the girls?’ asked Cat, keen to move the conversation on.
‘Playing upstairs,’ said Finn. ‘What do you fancy doing today? I was wondering about going crabbing and maybe lunch in the beach hut?’
‘Sounds good,’ agreed Cat. ‘I just need to call a friend first. I might head down to the seafront for a walk before breakfast if that’s okay?’
‘Go for it,’ said Finn with a smile. That smile.
Cat left the cottage and walked briskly along the road towards the seafront. She felt the need to clear her head after her dream and the ‘dressing gown tucked in pants’ episode. She also wanted to speak to Ava. Even though she was enjoying a break from her life, she was missing their regular chats. She had come to realise since her break from Hemingway Media that the diminutive, mouthy New Yorker was probably her best friend. It was a warm day, the sky a promising blue, but there was a persistent breeze pushing the cotton-wool clouds overhead. Cat zipped up her hoody top and strolled down the steps towards the beach. She met an older couple on their way up; the woman was holding onto the man’s arm as he helped her climb. She paused to get her breath and, taking in the view, she turned to Cat.
‘Lucky, aren’t we?’ she said with a throaty chuckle.
‘Yes,’ smiled Cat. ‘Yes we are.’
‘Come on, you,’ said the man kindly. ‘Last one home has to make the breakfast and you know how I like to burn toast.’
The woman exchanged glances with Cat. ‘Men eh?’ she said with an indulgent laugh. ‘Wouldn’t be without him for a second, mind.’
Cat stood back to let them pass. ‘Have a lovely day, dear,’ called the woman over her shoulder.