Now, Matt fingers his telephone, which has been switched off all day, and wonders how to tell Liv what he’s been doing. Because of the antipathy between the two women, their family history, he knows that Liv will accuse him of disloyalty and he frames sentences in his head, none of which is plausible. He knows that he should tell her the truth about his day, but can’t quite see how it is to be done – at least not by telephone. If he had her here beside him he could put it to her rationally: how he felt sorry for Catriona, been put into an awkward position – though he won’t mention the bedroom cabinet nor his brief moment of lust – but it would be almost impossible to explain the trip to Rock during a telephone conversation where reception is patchy and conversations have to be shouted, things repeated.
Quickly he taps a text: ‘Went down to the coast for a break this morning. How did the party go?’
It’s a holding process until he sees her, he tells himself. Then he will tell her the truth, explain it all properly, laugh about it. Meanwhile he’ll have a shower and go to bed. He’s relieved that Catriona made no attempt to come into the bistro on their return; relieved and surprised. It was worrying him, after that moment in the bedroom, wondering how he’d deal with it and planning to say that it would be a busy evening. As it turned out she simply leaned across and kissed his cheek lightly.
‘Thanks, Matt,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you in the week.’
She didn’t switch off the engine, just watched him get out, raised a hand and drove away.
Contrarily he was almost disappointed. He felt suddenly flat after their companionable day, that implicit offer of sex in her bedroom, to be left standing on the pavement. Now he shakes his head at his madness, caught up in a whole variety of emotions, and goes to have his shower.
Back at the cottage, Catriona looks around her with satisfaction. She was careful to arrange things so that Matt could see that she needed help, and, to be honest, it would have been very difficult on her own to get some of those boxes down from the loft: difficult but not impossible. The really necessary part, though, was displaying the importance of having someone with her who was sympathetic, understanding, when it came to packing small items of sentimental value for the sale-room or deciding what should go and what should stay. She needed him to see that this required more than having a removal man at hand.
‘You could let it furnished,’ he told her, still believing that she was taking his advice, ‘but some of these pieces are very nice.’
There was a moment in the car when she nearly let it slip that she is planning to sell the cottage instead of taking his advice to let it out. So she pretended to consider, to discuss what might go into her London flat and what might stay in the cottage, showing her emotion at having to part with certain items. At the same time she was wondering what Liv would think if she could see them together, and she had to stifle a snort of laughter. She longed to ask him outright if he’d told Liv that he was spending the day at Rock, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t and neither of them mentioned her. There was a sense of triumphant glee at getting one over on Liv, a kind of payback for this lifetime of resentment.
Her mother had hated Liv’s.
‘Pete jilted me for Julia,’ she said after the divorce. ‘I’ve never forgiven either of them. They were so bloody happy. I managed to give them some grief, mind you.’
Catriona can still remember the tension between the two women, the disguised dislike, the unhappiness it caused at home, and her own need to get even with those confident, happy children. How odd that her mother’s jealousy should go so deep, remain so fresh – and yet she can understand it because she, too, is unable to vanquish the need for revenge. She and her mother harbour resentments, they bear grudges, they never forgive a slight. She admits to herself that it’s almost pathological and, because of it, her own father finally left them, married again and has other children he adores. He cut his ex-wife and his daughter out of his life and Catriona can’t forgive him for that. Each time she sees Liv the rage boils up from nowhere: Liv – confident, beautiful, happy – is the symbol of all the pain that Cat and her mother suffered, first by Pete’s defection and then by her own father’s abandonment. Every time she comes to Rock some terrible need drives her to seek out Liv, just as Cat’s mother used to go to see Julia at Trescairn years before. It’s like pressing on a painful tooth. Perhaps, thinks Cat, once the cottage is sold, she might be free of it all, but first she has the opportunity to inflict some damage.
It was an inspired decision to take Matt to Outlaw’s. She watched him relaxing, chilling out, and then having a sudden pang of guilt, his fingers crisping into the palms of his hands, a tiny frown feathering his brows. She wanted to say: ‘What will you tell Liv?’ but she remained silent. Since he wasn’t driving he had a couple of pints and visibly unwound. He was a delightful companion and she was even more envious of Liv, the golden girl who has it all.
It was a pity that the bedroom ploy didn’t work. She very nearly succeeded; saw his eyes darken with desire before he shook her hand from his arm and stood up. If he’d had one more pint at lunch, or a glass of wine, she might have been able to swing it. Even so, it is another tiny victory. Just for that moment he wanted her – and there might be other opportunities if she is clever. She knows he was surprised when she drove off, leaving him standing on the pavement. He was expecting her to invite herself in for supper in the bistro and he was preparing to find an excuse. She likes to do the unexpected, to wrong-foot people, to leave them guessing.
Catriona smiles to herself. She’d bet any money that Matt has not told Liv anything about his day at Rock, and the longer he leaves it the harder it will be and the greater significance it will assume. It will be a tiny wedge driven between them. Matt will be at first uncomfortable, then defensive – after all, nothing has happened. It’s all been quite innocent: a day down at the coast helping a friend. So why isn’t he telling Liv?
Catriona’s smile widens. She remembers a saying her mother used: ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.’
What did she mean, wonders Catriona, when she said, ‘But I managed to give them some grief.’ How did she punish Julia and Pete? Perhaps Liv knows the answer and it is why she remains so antagonistic. Catriona shrugs. She plans to give some grief of her own if she can. Pete and Julia destroyed her own family life and she’s been waiting for this moment for more than forty years.
She must plan her next move carefully.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Monday
ANDY DRIVES SLOWLY, crawling along in the stream of traffic heading west. There’s been some kind of breakdown at Exeter, which has caused a long tailback, but now everything’s beginning to move again. He’s had the chance to text Liv to say he might be later than he planned. But she’s cool with that. Everyone knows what the A38 is like in July.
Actually he was rather gratified by his twin’s enthusiastic response to his early morning call suggesting that he dropped in to visit them on his way to Cornwall. In fact, the Beach Hut is not on the route he would usually take down to the north coast, but it will be fun to see Liv and the twins, and Baz, too, of course.
‘I’ve been invited to Polzeath,’ he told her. ‘A friend’s borrowing his parents’ holiday cottage and he said I can stay for a couple of weeks. Mate’s rates. It should be fun. I thought I could come in and see you on my way down, if Baz is OK with that.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she cried. ‘Do come, Andy. We’d love to see you. The twins will be thrilled.’
‘Ah, those twins love their Uncle Andy,’ he said, laughing. ‘So what’s this about Matt not being with you?’
‘Oh, well, it’s such a pity. Poor Joe snapped his Achilles tendon the day before we were due to leave. Matt’s stayed on. I hoped he just might dash up yesterday but he texted to say that he went to the coast and chilled out for a few hours. I still think he might have come here.’
‘But he wouldn’t have done much chilling, then, would he?’
countered Andy. ‘Not with those twins. Poor fellow just wanted a bit of me time.’
‘Don’t we all?’ retorted Liv. ‘When do I ever get me time? You’ll stay overnight, won’t you?’
He hadn’t intended to but he could hear the hopefulness in her voice, and agreed that he would.
‘It’ll have to be on the futon in Baz’s snug, but it’s very comfortable,’ she said. ‘That’s great, Andy.’
‘I’m always on the futon at the Beach Hut,’ he replied, resigned. ‘OK. I should be there in plenty of time for lunch.’
Now, Andy glances at his watch. He’ll still be in time for lunch but he’ll be glad to be off into the quieter lanes, heading down to the little beach. It’ll be good to see the sea again. He doesn’t have Liv’s overwhelming passion for the coast, for surfing and swimming and sailing, but he still loves to get away and smell the ozone.
He’s had a very good year. He’s sold his little IT company for a very healthy sum and he’s planning what he might do next. Meanwhile it will be good to see some of his family on his way to Polzeath. He thinks about the twins and chuckles. They love him because he’s naughty and brings them crazy presents. Flora and Freddie remind him of his own childhood and have renewed his own special bond with Liv. Last time he taught them the rude words he and Liv used to chant when they were small: ‘Pee, po, piddle, bum.’ He can remember how they’d shout them out and shriek with laughter, and Liv remembered as well, and was unable to be too cross with him. Baz merely laughed.
Andy can’t help smiling to himself. He loves old Baz – he’s so cool and laid-back – and he’s eager to see them all again. Meanwhile he just knows there was something in Liv’s voice when she was talking about Matt. Andy’s smile fades. It’s that old twin sixth-sense thing, picking up those vibes, and he feels concerned though he’s sure that nothing can really be wrong between Matt and Liv. They’re so solid. It’s probably that thing he sees with so many of his married friends trying to juggle families and jobs, and everybody tired and stressed. Part of him feels glad that he’s avoided it so far, though he’s got so many godchildren he finds it hard to keep track, but when he sees Freddie and Flora he feels a real pang of envy. They could be his own children – they are just so like him and Liv – and he utterly adores them. As Andy turns off the A38 and heads for Kingsbridge and the coast, he thinks of the present he has for them and his smile returns.
Liv goes in search of Baz and finds him in his snug looking at his laptop, listening to Miles Davis playing the Adagio from Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez. Baz swings round to look at her, closing the lid of his laptop, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
‘It’s Andy,’ she says. ‘I’ve just had a text. There was some kind of hold-up at Exeter so he’s running a bit late. He thinks he’ll still be in time for lunch.’
‘Well, that’s good. It could be much worse at this time of the year. I was meant to be clearing up in here if Andy’s staying but I got distracted by moving money around online. I imagine he’ll be on the futon in here. Have you found some bedding for him?’
‘He can manage with a sleeping bag just for one night. He’ll be fine. Knowing Andy he’ll probably go out and sleep on the beach.’
‘Have you told the twins he’s coming?’
Liv shakes her head. ‘Not yet. Just in case. They get so excited about seeing him.’
‘That’s because at heart Andy’s still nearly five. Though having done so well with his IT company I can’t really say that, can I? The boy done good. Pete must be very proud of him.’
‘The trouble is that Dad doesn’t understand IT and stuff like that. He’d have been happier if Andy was a doctor or in the army or a lawyer. We’ve both disappointed Dad in that respect. Mum doesn’t care so long as we’re happy.’
‘It’s odd,’ mused Baz, ‘that all parents want their children to be happy although we only have to look around to see how unlikely a possibility that might be.’
‘I suppose hope springs eternal,’ says Liv. ‘Isn’t that a saying? “Hope springs eternal in the human breast”?’
‘Ah, but you have to remember how the poet continues. “Man never Is but always To be blest.” A terrible cynic, Alexander Pope.’
‘Well, I’m happy,’ declares Liv, but then remembers her anxieties about Matt and is seized again by that tiny formless sense of fear.
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ says Baz, following her out through the atrium and on to the beach. ‘Where are the monsters?’
‘Over there. Building yet another sandcastle. Thank God they’re not bored with it yet. And dear old Jenks is keeping an eye. He’s an utter blessing. If anything goes wrong he starts barking and then comes dashing to find me. He seems to know that they mustn’t go into the sea on their own. He’s like some darling old nanny. It’s a pity we can’t have a dog.’
‘I think that would be a bit ambitious,’ agrees Baz. ‘You and Matt have both got quite enough on your joint plate. Do you ever think of moving on? Usually, by this time into a project, Matt’s planning to sell up and start a new enterprise. After all, it must be getting on for eight or nine years since you’ve been in Truro.’
Liv sighs, watching the twins, feeling a familiar yearning for change.
‘We talk about it sometimes. One thing I’ve always wanted to try is glamping. I’d love to have a go at running a glamping site but Matt’s cautious. It’s difficult finding the right site – it’s so crucial – and costly, too. Though, if we sold The Place …’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s probably too risky. I can see that. I love Truro, it’s a fantastic city, but I sometimes long to be back out in the country, by the sea. Anyway … Perhaps later on when Flora and Freddie are a bit older. Keep an eye for me, Baz, while I go and pick some flowers for the table.’
Jenks sees her and comes running to greet her. Liv bends to kiss his smooth head.
‘Hello, old doggle. You are such a good boy, aren’t you?’ she murmurs, and she opens the little gate and passes through into the wild-flower meadow.
Baz watches her moving slowly across the meadow, amongst the feathery grasses and scarlet poppies with Jenks at her heels, and wonders how she has survived so long in the city, working in the busy bistro, going home to the narrow town house with its tiny patch of garden.
It must be hard for a country girl like Liv to be so constrained. Yet she’s worked hard, grafted alongside his son, and he has respect for her. He thinks about the glamping and can see how it might suit her nature and personality. She’d bring all her talents to bear on it just as she had with that holiday complex in Port Isaac, and with The Place.
As he watches her stooping to pluck a handful of grasses and poppies, a tiny seed is sown in his mind. He’s noticed that Matt is tired, edgy, working too hard. There needs to be a balance, he thinks, but it’s not always easy to achieve. Baz turns away to look at the twins, listening to the bee-hum of their voices, smiling at their industry. He fingers his phone, remembering Maurice’s last text: ‘Courage, mon brave. He who hesitates is lost.’
It’s crazy, of course, thinks Baz. Why does he want to take the risk?
And then there is a tattoo on a car horn and Baz swings about to see Andy parking his car, waving, and Baz gives a shout of welcome. The twins glance round, stand up and then with whoops of delight run to greet their Uncle Andy.
Andy steps out of the car and staggers beneath the impact of the twins’ greeting. Each clinging to one of his knees, they hamper his progress towards Baz, who comes to greet him, arms outstretched.
‘Andy, my dear fellow. How are you?’
Andy hugs him, touched by his warm greeting, and laughs at the twins, who continue to cling to his legs, shouting at him, calling to Liv, who comes hurrying out of the little meadow with her hands full of flowers.
‘Andy.’ She puts her arms round him, squeezes the breath out of him, and he kisses her and feels all the joy of a homecoming. He is delighted now that he decided to divert out of his way to come to the Beach Hu
t. He beams at Baz and Liv and ruffles the twins’ heads.
‘So,’ he says. ‘Do I see a sandcastle?’
They jump about him, pulling him across the beach, but there is something else in their minds and he grins as he sees them wondering how to ask the question without making Liv cross. He admires their handiwork – and their restraint – and then says casually, ‘I’ve got something rather special in the car.’
Instantly there is silence and they stare up at him, tense with expectation. Liv begins to laugh.
‘They know they mustn’t ask,’ she says. ‘But they’ve done rather well so I think you could put them out of their misery.’
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Let’s go and look.’
Flora and Freddie race off across the sand towards the car while Liv and Andy follow more slowly.
‘I’ve threatened them,’ she tells him. ‘It’s so embarrassing when they ask people if they’ve brought them presents.’
‘I suppose we did that, too,’ he says. ‘It’s not easy being four.’
‘Nearly five,’ she reminds him.
‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there, ready to help blow out candles and sing. If I’m invited, that is.’
‘Of course you will be,’ she says.
He glances down at her. ‘Everything OK?’ and sees the little shadow in her eyes, the slight fading of her smile.
‘Of course,’ she answers lightly. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
When he doesn’t answer she looks up at him. ‘What?’ she asks defensively.
He shrugs. ‘You tell me.’
But the twins have reached the car and are shouting for him to hurry, so he goes ahead and opens the boot lid. The twins crane to see inside and their eyes widen. Wedged in beside Andy’s luggage is a brightly coloured plastic ride-on digger. He lifts it out, shows them how they can raise and lower the bucket to pick up sand.
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