‘No … I … Oh Jack, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come in here but I brought you the rest of the cake because you said you liked it and I wanted to see you smile again and … and …’ To her horror, tears sprang into her eyes. It was as though all she did whenever Jack was around was cry. It had happened far too often for her liking since she’d arrived at Conwenna Cove and it was so uncharacteristic of her. This wasn’t Eve Carpenter; this was an imposter. She had been invaded by some sort of strange emotional body-snatcher.
‘This is my personal space, Eve. I might be your aunt’s tenant but I have every right to privacy. You had no right at all to come in here … even if you were bringing me cake!’ He waved at the plate and Eve took a step backwards as her legs wobbled.
‘I know, Jack. I know I had no right, but this …’ She gestured at the canvas on the easel. ‘This is incredible. Beautiful. I didn’t know you were an artist!’
‘Why would you? We hardly know each other.’ His voice was cold, his eyes now unreadable. This wasn’t the Jack she knew, the Jack she’d been getting to know, the Jack who had said he wanted to be friends.
‘No. Of course. You’re right.’ Eve lifted her head and stepped towards him, hoping that he’d move out of the way and let her pass. For a moment he didn’t move. She wondered if she’d have to ask him to move aside, but then he took a step to his right to allow her to go.
She stepped out into the fresh air of the pretty cottage garden and gulped it down, trying to clear her head, to ward off the anxiety before it enveloped her in its agonizing darkness.
What have I done?
She didn’t dare turn around to see if Jack was following her out. She couldn’t bear to see the anger and disappointment in his gaze again.
As she hurried down the steps and towards the side gate, the cake slipped off the plate and landed on the ground, but she didn’t stop to pick it up. The birds could have it, the ants could have it, the foxes that came down from the fields could have it. Eve had just been reminded of a very valuable lesson. It was foolish to start to care about someone, anyone, especially a man. Surely she should have learnt this by now. If you cared for your parents, they would hurt you. If you cared for a man, or he cared for you, something would change, and you would lose the bond you once thought you shared. Or had hoped to share. If you loved the babies growing inside you, you would lose them.
Eve had known that Jack didn’t want her in a romantic way, but now she knew that there were even limits to the friendship he was offering. As there always were. Everything was limited, contained by boundaries that the eye didn’t always see and the heart didn’t always recognize.
Perhaps it was time for Eve to consider going back to Bristol, because it seemed that even here, in this beautiful idyll where she had hoped to heal and find peace, disaster could find her and fill her heart with pain.
Perhaps she had needed this lesson to remind her that no one could run from reality.
Not even her.
Especially not her.
Chapter 11
Despite Eve’s best efforts and some pretty strong medication, the anxiety she had experienced brought on a blinding headache, and when the pain took hold, it set in worse than ever. She spent the rest of the day, then the whole of the following day, in bed with the curtains drawn. The only time she stirred was to accept the water that Aunt Mary brought her, along with more painkillers, which she swallowed dutifully.
In the solitary darkness, waves of guilt washed over her, making her nauseous: guilt that she was bedridden, guilt that she wasn’t at work where she should be and guilt that she’d offended Jack by prying into his space. But she had to let the negative feelings go, she knew that, or she’d never recover.
By Thursday, she was well enough to sit up and accept some soup that Aunt Mary brought her, and she listened as her aunt relayed the story of Irene’s departure for her daughter’s home in Plymouth. She had even smiled when Aunt Mary described how Irene had been about to leave when she’d become concerned that she’d forgotten her glasses. Her daughter had told her to check her handbag, which she had, only to scream then empty its contents all over the floor in the hallway. Of course, a live mouse had fallen out and scampered across the floor and out through the front door, closely pursued by Tulip. It seemed that the cat was so fond of Irene that it had given her a parting gift to take home with her.
Her aunt hadn’t stayed much longer, sensing that Eve was tired, and when she’d left, Eve had sat up in bed for a while thinking over her situation. She clearly wasn’t well enough to return to Bristol yet, but she’d upset Jack badly. What if he was permanently furious with her for invading his privacy? And what about what she’d seen there on the canvas before her? Did he actually carry that around with him every day in his heart and his head?
Her initial reaction to his anger had been shock, then distress, then anger of her own. But that had faded quickly as she’d become fully aware of what Jack had been through. He was just so big, so strong and so sensible. To realize that he had his own troubles, such real, painful and evidently raw troubles, made her heart beat for him in a manner that made her want to hold him and make it all better. The emotions swirling around in Eve were puzzling her, yet not all in a bad way. She had been closed down for so long, shut off from love and devotion and even sexual attraction, but this man, with his ability to make her smile, with his strength and vitality – as well as his now not so secret vulnerability – was stirring her. The only way she could describe it to herself was as though she’d been in some form of stasis and now she was slowly, yet in full Technicolor, being brought back to consciousness.
Worn out by her musings, she’d fallen asleep again and when she’d woken it had been daylight. A quick glance at her mobile confirmed that it was now Friday morning. She still had a slight fuzziness around the edges from the migraine, a bit like a hangover, but she felt stronger than she had done in days. Today would be the day that she got up and tried to resolve matters with Jack. It was clear from what she’d seen that he could do with a friend too, whatever he believed, and she was determined to be that friend.
* * *
‘It’s good to see you up and about, Eve,’ Aunt Mary said as she handed her a mug of tea that Eve accepted gratefully.
‘It’s good to be up and about, believe me.’ Eve blew on the surface of the tea and cradled the mug in both hands. ‘I went for years without suffering from a migraine, then they came back with a vengeance. I hope it’s just temporary and linked to the anxiety I’ve been experiencing.’
Mary nodded. ‘I recall your father suffering from them when he was a teenager. Of course, back then people weren’t so understanding. Our parents thought he was either trying it on and being lazy, or using some illegal substance that made him ill.’
Eve wondered how her father had dealt with that. The man she knew had always been so aloof, so in control of his own world. Had he felt that his parents neglected him?
‘What were your parents like?’
Mary paused and pressed her lips together. ‘Didn’t your father ever tell you about them?’
Eve shook her head. ‘Whenever I asked, he never gave me much. He just said they were distant. Which is a bit ironic, I guess, in light of what he and my mother have been like.’
Mary nodded. ‘Such a shame that they, uh, didn’t appreciate you, dear. I’m sure they just never realized how you felt.’
‘I’m not feeling sorry for myself, Aunt Mary. That passed a long time ago, that longing for doting parents who’d shower me with love.’ She gave a wry laugh.
‘Your parents were very lucky to have you, Eve. It’s not my place to say, perhaps, but they should be here, even now, supporting you through all of this.’
‘Maybe. But then I am a grown-up.’
Mary smiled. ‘You’ll always be little Eve to me; the pretty blonde girl who came to stay with me in the long, hot summers and taught me that there was fun to be had in the simple things.’
&nbs
p; ‘I taught you that?’
Mary nodded. ‘After I … well, after I went through my own … loss, you helped me come back to life again. I looked forward to our summers so much, Eve. You have no idea.’
‘For my part, I just loved coming here. I felt cared about, spoilt, adored even. All children want and deserve that, don’t they?’ Eve sipped her tea. What was the loss that Mary had referred to? She couldn’t recall her aunt being anything other than jovial when she’d been a child. Or having a boyfriend or anyone special around. ‘You said you lost someone,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Oh, it was a long time ago, dear. Such a long time, and so much has happened since then. I was going to tell you about your grandparents, wasn’t I?’
‘Please.’ She realised her aunt was changing the subject, but she didn’t want to push her on the subject of her loss. Not if she didn’t want to discuss it. Besides, Eve was keen to know more about her grandparents.
* * *
Eve and Mary strolled down to the village. The morning was bright and breezy and Eve breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh salt-scented air. Her head was clearing by the minute as the remains of the migraine passed and she was relieved to be able to leave her bedroom and get outside. Being cooped up in the darkness didn’t help her frame of mind, but when the pain had struck, she’d had no choice. Today she felt more positive, more capable, and she hoped that later on she would have the opportunity to speak to Jack and apologise. She just hoped he’d let her.
The discussion with Aunt Mary about her grandparents hadn’t revealed much more than she’d already known. Her aunt’s version was the same as her father’s: their parents had married young following an unplanned pregnancy. He worked in a factory and she kept house. When he’d died in his forties, following an accident at the factory, his wife had followed a year later, apparently just giving up after she lost her husband. It was a tragic story, especially as they’d left a son and daughter, but her father and Aunt Mary had built their own lives. It did give Eve a bit more insight into why her father wasn’t a good parent; he hadn’t, after all, been set a good example, but times were different then and the emphasis on nurturing children had somewhat changed. But she also believed that some people just shouldn’t be parents; what was the point in having a child if you couldn’t love it? Or give it the time it would need?
Her heart fluttered at the final thought and she rubbed a hand over her chest. This was not the time for painful memories.
‘Here it is, Eve. Just along this street.’
They walked to the end of a narrow cobbled street and stood in front of iron railings that topped a stone wall. The building was an old church that had been revamped to create a childcare facility, and it now displayed a large banner across the front: Conwenna Kidz Daycare Centre: Open 8 til 8 weekdays.
The windows were open as much as the security locks would allow, and the excited shouts and squeals of young children filtered out into the morning. Eve’s stomach lurched.
‘Shall we go in?’ Mary asked, taking her arm.
‘Uh … I don’t know. I’m suddenly wondering if this is such a good idea after all.’
Mary had talked Eve into attending a reading hour at the daycare centre. When she had told Eve that she volunteered there once a fortnight and suggested that her niece accompany her this morning, Eve had been surprised yet pleased, but now she wondered if being around small people would be beneficial or detrimental.
‘Eve, they’re just children.’
‘I don’t have my CRB information. Surely they can’t let me in without that?’
‘You’re a head teacher, for goodness’ sake, and my niece. I can vouch for you, and if they need to check up on you, they can request a copy via email or even fax from your school.’
‘Yes, but I’m … Oh, Aunt Mary, I’m nervous.’
‘Why, dear?’ Mary wrapped an arm around Eve’s shoulders.
‘I feel bad for leaving my own school, for not being there right now caring for the pupils I’m responsible for.’
‘Eve, you are not indispensable, however hard it seems to accept it. That’s something you need to learn. Your deputy head and the rest of your staff will be taking care of things there. You are, however, a human being with human frailties and that means that you need to rest and recover. Being around children is one way to remember why we’re here.’
Eve nodded. What Mary said made sense. If only the butterflies in her stomach would listen to her aunt and calm down, she was sure she’d feel a lot better.
‘I can do this.’
‘Of course you can. You can even read them a story.’
They walked into the small front yard and Mary pressed the button on an intercom next to the front door. Once they were buzzed in, they entered a large open space painted in a bright sunflower yellow. Sunlight shone through the long stained-glass windows in the side wall and cast myriad colours across the busy room. The theme was open plan but there were smaller areas cordoned off with bookshelves and waist-high room dividers, and Eve noted that there was what appeared to be a lounge, a painting section and a library. Further back, there was a door that led to what she assumed was the kitchen, another that had a sign saying Nursery on it, with a picture of a cot, and to the right of that, two doors leading to the toilets.
And in amongst the bookshelves and the room dividers and the adults wearing purple T-shirts and matching lanyards featuring the centre’s name were the little people. Lots and lots of tiny human beings, all intent on getting what they wanted, when they wanted it, from whatever target they zoomed in on.
‘Come on, Eve. Steel yourself!’ Mary said as she guided Eve to the reception desk, where she introduced her to the manager and some of the other members of staff.
An hour later, Eve found herself in the library area surrounded by children. Amanda had emailed through a copy of her CRB check – the manager had been apologetic but insisted that she had to abide by the rules – which had caused Eve some flutters of panic. She had spoken to Amanda on the phone and told her she didn’t want her colleagues asking why she could be in Conwenna Kidz but not at her own school, but Amanda had told her that she needed to do as many ordinary things as possible in order to recover and that any doctor would tell her the same. Eve had done her best to believe her friend.
She gazed at the tiny faces of the children as they sat listening to Aunt Mary. She was reading a popular story to them about a terrible dragon that lived in a wood but tried to hide its phobia of squirrels. Eve held her breath as Mary neared the climax of the story, pausing for effect. A small girl with long brown hair in bunches moved closer to where Eve sat on a beanbag and sneaked her hand into Eve’s. Eve started and almost pulled away, but then the girl popped a thumb into her mouth. Her big blue eyes were clear and innocent and she could only have been about four. Eve was used to working with tall, city-toughened teenagers, so to be with young children was very different. Yet nice and somehow soothing.
‘Are you okay?’ she whispered to the little girl, whose hand was rather clammy.
‘It’s a bit scary,’ she whispered back.
‘It’ll be okay now,’ Eve said, trying to adopt a reassuring expression. ‘The dragon will be fine.’
‘He will?’ the girl asked.
Eve nodded, then placed a finger over her lips and pointed at her aunt. How did you explain the concept of learning to overcome your fears to a four-year-old with sticky hands?
Mary finished the story with a flourish and all the children cheered.
‘I’m Joanne,’ the little girl said. She stood up and touched Eve’s hair. ‘Your hair’s short like a boy’s.’
‘Uh … I guess it is.’
‘But I like it. It’s soft.’ Joanne stroked Eve’s hair, then giggled.
‘Thank you.’ Eve smiled at her new friend, then gasped as the tiny girl threw herself at her and hugged her.
‘Are you okay there?’ It was Karen, the manager. ‘Joanne not being too bossy, is
she?’
‘No. Not at all,’ Eve replied. ‘She’s just being … friendly.’
‘Time for some squash and fruit then, children?’ Karen asked as Aunt Mary placed the book back on a shelf.
‘Yay!’ Joanne cheered as she ran with the other children over to a seating area decked out with small tables and chairs.
‘See, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?’ Aunt Mary asked.
‘No. I quite enjoyed it. But thanks for not making me read. I needed to see how it was done. I’d have been too nervous to do it justice,’ Eve replied.
‘Maybe next time, dear. Now, how about a coffee?’
‘Sounds like a good plan.’ Eve picked up her bag and followed Mary out into the sunshine, with thoughts of the brave dragon who learned to overcome his phobia of squirrels dancing around in her mind.
Chapter 12
Eve strolled along the street arm-in-arm with her aunt. Occasionally, they stopped to gaze in a shop window at the typical seaside gifts and souvenirs on offer, and Eve felt her spirits lifting as if the soft, warm breeze of the afternoon were capable of taking away her troubles and concerns.
They paused outside a small coffee shop and Mary asked, ‘Shall we go in here? They serve the best lattes and the most delicious cakes.’
‘Definitely,’ Eve replied, her mouth watering at the prospect.
They entered the cafe and a small bell above the door tinkled. There were a few customers sitting at small round tables, chatting quietly or reading newspapers, but there were plenty of other tables to choose from. As they took a table near the window, Eve looked around at the pretty interior. It was painted buttercup yellow, giving it a warm atmosphere, and the walls featured hearts and boats made out of driftwood. On the far wall she spotted a greyhound painting. Her heart picked up its pace as she peered at it, realizing it resembled the ones Jack had pointed out at the art gallery.
‘Hello, Mary! How are you today?’ A man with a small goatee beard and messy blonde hair that looked as though it had been repeatedly bleached by the sun and never brushed appeared at their side with a notepad and pen.
Summer at Conwenna Cove Page 11