Summer at Conwenna Cove
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Copyright
Summer at Conwenna Cove
Darcie Boleyn
For Freya, our gorgeous greyhound girl, who brings such love and joy, and for the real Gabe, may your days over the rainbow bridge be happy ones.
Prologue
I know the answer to this, I honestly do.
Eve rolled her shoulders to try to ease some of the tension that had settled there throughout the course of the day like slowly solidifying concrete. Perhaps she’d slept awkwardly last night, but then didn’t she sleep badly every night? She bit her lip as a sudden blinding flash ricocheted across her vision, accompanied by an icy pain that shot through her skull.
‘So what do you think, Mrs Carpenter?’
‘Hmmm?’
Eve inhaled slowly, hoping to clear her head, but echoes of discomfort remained. She didn’t have time for this, especially not during the highly important half-termly governors’ meeting. There was so much to get through.
‘Mrs Carpenter, I asked if we really should be considering taking on new staff in the next academic year. I mean, it’s already May and the timetable is almost complete. Is it fair to make such drastic changes now?’ It was the condescending tone of Bill Dempsey, a portly fifty-something local businessman who sat on the school’s finance committee.
‘Well …’ Eve rubbed the bridge of her nose to try to disperse the throbbing that was making her eyes water. She lowered her hand and reached for her glass of water. She was probably dehydrated. In fact she was, without a doubt. She hadn’t drunk enough as she’d been rushing round since five that morning – as usual! Her trembling hand knocked against the glass and she watched as it fell in slow motion, emptying its contents all over the papers she’d placed in front of her just half an hour ago. Over her work: her precious document outlining how employing a new alternative learning needs teacher would be the way to raise standards.
‘Fu … lip!’ escaped her lips as she quickly replaced the expletive she would have released had she been elsewhere and in different company.
Horatio Jones, the parent governor to her right, leapt to his feet as the water dripped off the edge of the table and plopped onto the plush beige carpet.
‘Eve, are you all right?’ he asked, brushing off the front of his trousers.
She tore her gaze from him and met the curious stares of the other governors and her senior leadership team. Her deputy head, Amanda Green, was looking at her with concern, but when she met the eyes of her assistant head, Donovan Connelly, she found pure glee. She’d cocked up and he was enjoying every moment of it, like a hyena watching a wounded antelope trying to right itself.
But before she could begin to feel indignant, another flash of agony stabbed her brain like a scalding poker and she gasped.
‘Eve?’ She felt a hand on her shoulder and tried to turn, but even moving her head a fraction made the pain worse and caused more blurry lines to fracture her field of vision. ‘Eve, shall I call an ambulance?’ It was Amanda.
‘No … don’t think so. Be okay … in a minute.’
She blinked and rubbed her eyes, but the room seemed to have been immersed in water and the edges of her vision shimmered as if someone had licked a finger and smudged them, then sprinkled them with glitter. Eve liked glitter; she liked sparkly things.
But not like this.
She squinted but it made no difference.
Something was seriously wrong.
She hoped for a moment that it was actually one of those weird dreams that she had to endure some nights, where any moment she’d find herself totally naked in whole-school assembly. Except for the pasties – what was it with those small flesh-coloured circles and their appearance in her dreams? As if they provided sufficient coverage when everything else was on display! But ever since she’d worn a pair to prom with a strapless dress and the left one had popped out and landed on the dance floor, then got stuck to a sixth-former’s heel, it seemed that she’d never have a nightmare about full humiliating nudity sans pasties again.
She covered her eyes, hoping that a brief reprieve would make it all better. She could hear people breathing, shuffling and clearing their throats, evidently uncomfortable.
I can’t afford to be ill. I’m too busy, have too much to do.
‘We need to get her to the hospital. Pass me my bag, Donovan! Now!’ Amanda took control, coming to her rescue, and Eve sent out a silent thank you for the no-nonsense, practical approach of her deputy.
But as that thought slipped away, the last thing she remembered before she was consumed by darkness was throwing up all over her new – and very expensive – navy and white brogues with the kitten heel, and hearing a barely disguised murmur of joy from Donovan as she slumped in her chair, coffee-tainted drool trickling down her chin.
Chapter 1
Eve sat in the passenger seat of Amanda’s car and allowed Amanda to fasten her seat belt. As they drove out of the hospital car park, she stared through the windscreen at the dark sky.
What a day it had been.
The gentle motion of the vehicle was soothing and she fought her exhaustion.
‘Sleep if you want to, Eve. I’ll wake you when we get to your house.’
Eve offered a brief nod of thanks then closed her eyes.
She thought through what had happened over the past few hours. The doctor at the hospital had told her she’d had a migraine accompanied by some sort of stress-related attack. She’d perched on the raised bed covered with crêpey blue paper that creaked and tore whenever she moved – reminding her of when the younger children attempted somewhat unsuccessfully to sneak out farts in lessons – and tried to absorb what he was saying. As a teenager, she’d suffered from migraines, crippling ones that lasted for hours, but she’d seemed to grow out of them at some point. Once her exam anxiety had passed, if she remembered correctly. Now, however, she’d suffered one after all these years, and it must have been a bad one as she’d thrown up then blacked out. The doctor suspected that as she’d felt the symptoms of the migraine coming on, she’d suffered an anxiety attack, which had ultimately made the whole experience even worse.
Stress and exhaustion were the likely triggers, and when Amanda – who had evidently taken Eve to the hospital, although her memory of the drive there was rather hazy – had filled the doctor in on the hours Eve had been working, and about the painful events that had occurred over recent months, he’d expressed his surprise that she hadn’t been ill before now. The doctor, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties like Eve, and who looked as exhausted as she felt, had then told her that the short blackout she’d suffered had likely been due to low blood sugar or to hyperventilating, which she might have succumbed to in her panic. He’d recommended that she go home and rest because there was no telling when a migraine cou
ld make a return. It might never happen again, but it could be back within hours.
Rest?
It was something Eve rarely did. Sitting still or lying in bed were not her favourite pastimes. Keeping busy, that was what she was all about. Keep busy … no time to dwell on things.
Amanda pulled up in front of Eve’s house and cut the engine.
‘We’re here,’ she said as she gently nudged Eve’s arm.
Eve opened her eyes. She hadn’t slept, but closing her eyes for a while had helped with the headache that reminded her of a hangover.
‘I’ll come in with you and get you settled then head home. Unless you want me to stay?’
‘No, no!’ Eve waved a hand at her. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need to get into bed and to sleep. It’ll all be better in the morning.’
They got out of the car and walked up to the front door.
‘I’ll be okay from here, I promise.’
‘Call me in the morning?’
‘Of course. And thank you.’
They hugged briefly, then Eve unlocked the door.
‘You need to take better care of yourself, Eve. You’ll burn out if you’re not careful.’ Amanda frowned at her. ‘I was really worried.’
‘I’ll try. I will …’
Amanda nodded then returned to her car and Eve closed the door behind her.
She knew Amanda was right, but she had no idea where to start.
* * *
Eve opened an eye and peered around.
It was light. She was in her own bed. At home.
She opened the other eye then sighed and stretched tentatively.
Phew! No pain.
But … did that really happen … at work?
She cringed.
Yes, it did.
Lying in her own bed, the synthetic peach-blossom-fragranced duvet pulled up to her chin, Eve’s heart hammered. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t her. She didn’t slow down; she didn’t surrender to frailty. She needed to get up, get showered and get dressed.
A buzzing from her bedside cabinet grabbed her attention. Probably someone from work asking what time she’d be in.
I can’t do it …
She gripped the duvet with trembling hands and ground her teeth together.
Her mobile buzzed again, an unwelcome reminder of the outside world, as someone left a message.
I just can’t …
The pounding of her heart increased. She could hear the blood whooshing through her ears and her whole body shook. Was she about to suffer a heart attack? Was this it … the end? Would she die alone without even a cat to gnaw at her fingers as rigor mortis set in?
Pull yourself together!
She focused on slowing her breathing, on taking deep breaths in and out to the count of ten, until her heart had slowed and she was able to control her limbs again. She needed to get up and make a cup of tea and to eat something, then she’d be able to think clearly.
She pushed the duvet aside and wriggled to the edge of the bed. The king-size bed she’d bought just two years ago with Darryl, when she’d still been able to convince herself that everything was okay between them, that there was hope of a life and a future together. A future that included Saturday-morning snuggles with her own little family. But now, the bed seemed ridiculously oversized for one and she often felt lost in it, more like the pea than the princess from the fairy tale.
Her bedroom was a tip. If people at work, hell, if the pupils could see how their smartly turned-out, ambitious and dynamic head teacher actually lived, they’d be shocked. Horrified even. She’d let things go after Darryl left; before Darryl left, if she was honest. But she just didn’t have time to clean, to replace light bulbs and put clothes away. When something needed washing, she flung it into the overflowing basket on the landing then went out and bought more. She could afford to, after all. She earned a good wage and she had no dependants.
She hunched over.
No dependants.
That, along with months of anguish, was what had triggered her attack.
She’d been busy as usual, rushing around school, picking up bits of litter the caretaker had missed and peering into classrooms to check that all was well. She’d missed lunch, granted, and hadn’t eaten since she’d forced down a piece of toast at breakfast. Apart from the mouldy bits, that was, and she’d picked them out as she swallowed black coffee, because, of course, there’d been no milk in the fridge.
So the doctor had been right in suggesting that she hadn’t eaten enough yesterday. But that wasn’t what had upset her. It had been something far more painful that had sent her into the whirling pit of agony. She hugged herself as she recalled the moment when Sandra Winters, the chair of governors, had waddled into the meeting. She’d been huge, smiling, glowing and beautiful.
Full of life.
Literally.
Eve rubbed her own belly, so empty it was concave. But she just had no appetite. She got to her feet and padded over to the full-length mirror. Before her stood a scrawny woman with short blonde hair streaked with grey. It was cut in what her hairdresser referred to as a pixie style, but right now it just looked a mess. Her eyes were dark hollows, their former emerald green now dull as moss; her cheeks were gaunt and her shoulder blades razor sharp. She pulled her vest top down a bit and it flattened her chest even more. Where had her breasts gone? Just a year ago, they’d been swollen and blue-veined as her body changed with its new condition.
But that had been then.
Her eyes stung and she blinked hard.
No point dwelling on what had been. What might have been if you’d just stopped …
She eyed her reflection again, determined to properly assess what stood in front of her. Extending from her grey knickers – good job I wasn’t given a full body examination yesterday at the hospital – were two slightly fuzzy spindly legs with knobbly knees.
Not a good look for a woman four years past thirty.
She had to admit it, she was worn out, a shadow of the ambitious, dynamic young woman she had once been. She’d always been driven, it was true, driven by the need to succeed in her career. But while she’d been focused on that, everything else in her life had taken a back seat, and look at where she was now.
* * *
‘You just need a break, Eve,’ Amanda said as she stirred two sugars into a mug of tea.
‘But I can hardly run off, can I? It’s only May!’ Eve thumped her mug on the table and gazed around her glossy high-tech kitchen. It had everything a family could want, from its bountiful work surfaces to its shiny (unused) gadgets, to its enormous silver double-door American fridge. Of course, she couldn’t see the surfaces, as they were currently littered with half-empty takeaway cartons, bottles with various amounts of wine in and, strangely, a pair of pink knickers that hung from a cupboard handle. How did they get there? However, if you ignored the mess, it was a perfect kitchen for a family; yet it had no family.
Eve had no family.
Apart from her parents, that was, who ran a hairdressing salon in Italy, and she rarely saw them. They were busy with their own lives and she didn’t like to bother them unless it was absolutely necessary, having always felt like a burden. Then, of course, there was Aunt Mary who lived in Cornwall, but Eve hadn’t seen her in years. Mary sent Christmas and birthday cards, and still placed a twenty-pound note inside them, even though Eve had long since told her not to worry now that she was all grown up. Every six months or so, under the shadow of guilt, Eve would contact her aunt. Admittedly, most of the time she just send a deceptively cheerful text message – it was much easier than having an actual conversation. And that had been the pattern of things.
The room surged as she realized that she hadn’t spoken to Mary in months, not wanting to have to talk to her about … well, about everything. In fact she’d ignored the increasingly frequent calls from her aunt, and deleted her voice messages without listening to them. It was easy to push people away when you were busy, when you had a job
to do, but when you slowed down, even just for a day or so, it was amazing how guilt caught up with you.
Shame crawled all over Eve like stinging ants and she shivered.
‘Eve, I think you need to re-evaluate your life.’ Amanda spoke softly, the trained counsellor in her kicking in. ‘You’re only thirty-four and you’ve just suffered a pretty violent migraine because of stress and exhaustion. And as the doctor said, it was probably a full-blown anxiety attack. It’s hardly surprising, as you live your life at a hundred miles an hour.’
Eve nodded. She couldn’t deny it. Everything she did was at speed – work, love, sex, IVF, work, miscarriage, work, sleep, work. She’d been speeding along the career motorway for so long now, never slowing down to gaze at the fields and houses, never stopping to take a break, that she didn’t know how else to be.
‘You’re pretty busy too,’ Eve said as she gazed as Amanda. Her friend and colleague was a pretty forty-four-year-old with a well-maintained ginger bob, dressed in a smart black suit with minimal jewellery. She looked the part of deputy head teacher and she was damned good at her job too.
‘Yes, but I have … balance.’
Eve nodded; Amanda was right. She had a loving husband, two teenage children, a golden Labrador and a spacious semi-detached home in a nice area. Amanda’s husband was a successful author, so he worked from home and Amanda was able to go out to work knowing that dinner would be on the table when she got back and that the dog would be walked. Unless her husband was working to a deadline, that was, and even then he was still highly supportive of his wife’s career.
What did Eve come home to?
‘My house is a pigsty.’
Amanda looked around the kitchen and nodded. ‘It’s a bit on the messy side.’
‘I can’t just abandon everything, can I?’ Eve asked the question, even though she knew that she couldn’t go on as she had been; that she couldn’t, right now, consider setting a foot back in school. Not yet, anyway.
She gasped at the realization. It was momentous: terrifying.
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