‘There’s something else I haven’t spoken about. Something that’s come back out of the past and bitten me in the leg.’ He drinks some of the hot coffee. ‘May I tell you about it? In confidence?’
There is a short silence.
‘Is this the old sin with the long shadow?’ she asks.
Baz nods and there is another silence.
‘Are you absolutely sure you want to tell me?’
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Please.’
‘Does anyone else know?’
‘Two people. But neither of them knows about Sofia.’
‘Ah.’ El gives a little nod of understanding, as if something has been made clear to her. ‘Very well.’
Baz smiles at her, finishes the coffee and hands her the empty cup. He rolls on to his back, covers his eyes with his hands, and begins to talk.
El pours herself some coffee and watches him. She sees how he draws up his knees, as if to make himself smaller, how he hides his eyes, as if he is ashamed, blocking out her reaction, and she is filled with huge compassion.
If she had been capable of surrender to a man it would have been to Baz. She loves his generosity, his humility, his ability to love, and she listens with sadness to his story. She remembers how he was when she first met him back then, when he’d just moved to Bristol with small Matt; she remembers his grief, his anger at how Lucy and the baby had died: his despair. He was twenty-eight years old. How tragic that he should have been led into such a foolish act at that moment of his weakness.
Baz talks on; about the paintings, a girl called Catriona, his conversation with Maurice. And he talks about Sofia, how it is just so typical that this should happen now, when he’s met her and fallen in love with her. He doesn’t quite cry out: ‘It isn’t fair!’ but it is implicit in the way he screws up his eyes and clenches his fists.
Odd, thinks El, that humankind is born with a sense of entitlement. Nothing says that life should be fair yet we expect that it should be so.
She says nothing and slowly Baz relaxes. His legs slide out straight, his arms fall to his side and he opens his eyes. He sits up and looks at her, ready now to face the future.
‘What shall I do, El?’ he asks.
‘It was all a long time ago,’ she says. ‘You were young, unhappy and foolish. I think it’s time to forgive yourself, Baz. Old sins do indeed cast long shadows, and this one will always hang across you, but you could forgive yourself for Lucy and the baby. It’s time.’
He seems to be surprised, even shocked. Then he draws up his knees and wraps his arms about them.
‘I could have prevented it,’ he says. ‘I should have been more aware of the depth of her despair.’
‘You can never be sure of that,’ she says gently. ‘Let it go, Baz. The past can’t be changed. Accept it and let it go.’
‘And Sofia?’
‘Well, this is what it’s all about, isn’t it? For the first time since Lucy you’ve met someone that you believe you can share your life with. Not in some kind of casual relationship but something much more than that. It’s hard that this other thing should have boomeranged back at you just at this moment. If you believe that you have a serious future with Sofia, you’re going to have to tell her the truth. All of it. We must hope that this girl decides to take the job in New York and leaves you alone, but there’s no guarantee that at some time in the future she might not decide to do some damage.’
Baz closes his eyes again, as if to ward off a blow. He groans.
El considers him thoughtfully. It would be a mistake to allow this confession to tip over into maudlin self-pity and she can see no virtue in a good old-fashioned public confession. It’s much too late and nobody would benefit.
‘Why Sofia, I wonder,’ she muses aloud. ‘Odd, isn’t it, that after all these years, this girl should knock you sideways?’
Baz’s eyes snap open. He is distracted. His expression softens at the thought of Sofia, and El stifles a smile.
‘It is odd,’ he agrees. ‘Totally amazing. She’s an extraordinary girl, El.’ He sighs. ‘I suppose I must tell her.’
‘Yes, all of it, but not today. Not here. Wait until you’re back in Bristol – unless the perfect opportunity arises. You’ll know when the time is right.’
She wonders whether Sofia will be shocked, if it will change how she feels about Baz, but suspects not. It is all so very long ago. El pours some more coffee and hands the cup to Baz.
‘She’s so much younger,’ he says. ‘I wonder if I have the right, El.’
‘Don’t you dare chicken out,’ she says fiercely. ‘If Sofia wants you then for goodness’ sake accept your good fortune with open arms. But one thing,’ she adds. ‘Don’t forget to destroy those paintings.’
El watches him stride away. She screws the cup back on to the Thermos flask and puts it into her rucksack. Her quick sketch of a wind-twisted hawthorn tree looks lifeless and, as she tears it from the sketchbook, she wonders how Baz’s new involvement with Sofia will alter the dynamic in Bristol. El feels rather sad at the prospect of change. She and Baz have so often sought each other’s company, welcoming Miles on his rare dashes to the city. Adding Sofia into the mix must surely make a considerable difference.
El knows that she will miss those visits to the theatre, to concerts, with Baz. Because he has never been interested in any kind of physical relationship with her, there has been no strain put upon their friendship. She knows how rare it is to have such a friendship and she knows that she will miss it. Even if Sofia were generous enough to sanction a continuance of these outings it is unlikely that Baz will continue to be so available. El has become used to being in first place with him; confidante, chum, sounding board. It is to her that he turns first.
She knows that he has never risked another marriage because he couldn’t bear the idea of a repeat of the terrible tragedy that beset his first one. He has Matt – and now Liv and the twins – and that is more than enough for him. Baz is not prepared to put another woman’s life at risk and so his physical relationships have been casual, undemanding on both sides, and completely separate from what she shares with him.
She wonders about Miles and this new plan to buy a flat in Bristol. This, too, will change the dynamic. El guesses that when Annabel gets over the shock of Baz and Sofia being in love she will very soon give up visits to Bristol, and then Miles will have more opportunities for freedom. Clearly, this is what Miles is hoping. El suspects that he will be content to play a waiting game, his eyes fixed on the future. Perhaps it is possible that he can accept that she will never see him in any other light than a good friend and, though he will never take the place of Baz in her affections, she and Miles might be able to enjoy each other’s company. Love of any kind is too precious to waste. She remembers Baz saying, ‘Love isn’t love till you give it away’ and her own cynical retort.
Chuckling to herself, El packs up her belongings and strolls home along the cliff path. She is content and at peace.
The tea party is almost over by the time Baz arrives back at the Beach Hut. Sofia is delighted to see him, though she doesn’t let it show, but she’s glad that he’s absented himself. She guesses that he knows how hard it will be for her with Liv and her brother, trying to behave as if Baz’s presence has no effect on her. As it is, she’s enjoyed herself. She likes Andy, who makes her laugh by the way he plays with the twins, and she can feel Liv really hoping that he’s making an impression.
Sofia wants to tell her that she’s wasting her time but of course she can’t. Fortunately, though Andy is charming and amusing, and very good-looking, he isn’t bowled over either. She knows at once that she isn’t Andy’s type, which makes it all much easier.
The twins keep everybody busy, tea is a riot, and then suddenly Baz comes strolling down the little cliff path and Sofia can feel that strange, but now becoming familiar, feeling at the mere sight of him; as if her heart is expanding. How hard it is not to go to him, to take his hand, kiss him; make some gesture t
hat indicates their togetherness.
She is aware that he is slightly detached and knows that it is because of his family. It’s difficult enough to pretend with Annabel and Miles, or Janet and Dave, but it moves to quite another level with his daughter-in-law and his grandchildren. She utterly understands that. Nothing must be revealed in this place, at this time. Slowly, she hopes, she will gain Liv’s affection, showing her that she has nothing to fear; that there is no threat here. Sofia looks forward to meeting Matt, though she is apprehensive, too. She can well imagine how he and Liv might react to a much younger woman muscling in on their close little family group. They must be given plenty of time to adjust; to be reassured.
There are a few more games but then Sofia says that she must go, hints at some plan that Janet and Dave have made, and says goodbye. It is perfectly natural for Baz to stroll with her to her car and though she still behaves very carefully she does hesitate, half in the car, to smile at him. He is blocking the sight line to the beach so she feels quite safe to show her love in her smile.
Now that she looks at him she sees a kind of shadow in his eyes; a sadness. She is filled with a sudden alarm.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asks quickly, very quietly. ‘You look sad.’
‘It’s been a funny old day,’ he says, smiling reassuringly at her. ‘A few ghosts around. It happens sometimes.’
Sofia remembers Janet telling her how his wife died in childbirth and she is seized with compassion for him. She longs to put her arms round him but has to content herself by taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze.
‘Will you text me?’ she asks.
Baz nods, she gets in and he closes the car door. She backs out and he raises a hand and walks away. Sofia drives off feeling oddly bereft; lonely. How good it will be to see him on neutral ground, gradually to establish a relationship that can be acknowledged openly. She knows this is not the place to make a statement but she’s glad that it won’t be long now.
As Sofia stops at the farm gate and gets out to open it, she pauses to test herself; to think about Seb and Rob. She has begun to realize that she wasn’t so much in love with Rob as with the whole set-up: little Seb, the three of them together, the sense of being a family.
She’s just got back into the car, having driven through the first gateway, when a text pings in. It’s from Baz and it’s quite short: ‘I love you x.’
Sofia gives a little laugh of pleasure and texts back: ‘Love you too x.’
She drives on, thinking now of tomorrow when she will see him again, and wondering how they will manage to conceal their feelings and behave as if they are just good friends. She is relieved that Andy wasn’t interested; it would have been very difficult to be cool with Liv’s brother. She’s surprised he’s not in a relationship. He’s such fun, so simple and easy to be with – and so like Liv.
Sofia heaves a sigh of relief: another hurdle has been crossed. And the real miracle is that nobody has guessed; no one has any idea of how she and Baz feel about each other.
Despite Liv’s protests and the twins’ disappointment Andy leaves early, not long after tea, driving back across the familiar roads to the north coast. Since his conversation with Baz, he has been almost sick with apprehension. How hard it has been to play with the twins and chat with Liv without her suspecting anything. He’s well aware of the strange connection that they share, and when he first arrived it was clear that she was anxious, but afterwards she seemed so happy that he tried to convince himself that maybe his instinct was wrong and there was, after all, nothing else to fear. Perhaps Maurice would perform the miracle and get Catriona off their backs for ever.
Now, Andy is driven by a desire to see her, to discover what she plans to do. It has already been arranged that he will help her tomorrow to take some more things to the tip so she won’t be surprised to see him, and she has no idea that he has been to see Baz.
He turns on to the A30 and heads west. He is still feeling emotional about Baz’s story, the horror of the death of his young wife and the baby, and the thought of living with it for all these years is terrible. Baz is such a lovely man and it’s tragic that he’s never managed to get over it and find happiness with someone else.
It was interesting, actually, how Sofia’s face lit up at the sight of him. Andy frowns thoughtfully. It was just a fleeting expression but rather telling. Baz was slightly subfusc, which was only to be expected after his conversation with Maurice, but Andy noticed how he walked Sofia to the car and those few minutes they’d spent together, talking.
‘Do you like Sofia?’ Liv asked, after she’d driven off. ‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’
And he agreed that yes, he liked her, and yes, she was nice, but it was difficult to explain that there wasn’t that little flash of attraction that lifted it out of any other meeting with a nice, pretty woman. He could sense Liv’s disappointment and he’d teased her about it.
‘You’re getting as bad as Mum,’ he told her. ‘She longs for me to find some lovely girl and settle down and have babies. And don’t tell me I’m getting past my sell-by date. Look at old Baz …’
He paused but Liv was quick to react. ‘Baz? What do you mean?’
And Andy, remembering that quickly suppressed look on Sofia’s face, said, ‘Well, Baz seems happy enough, doesn’t he? He has a great life.’ Then, luckily, one of the twins came running up, insisting on a game, and the moment passed.
Andy drives over Hendra Downs, but at Bodmin he doesn’t take the Wadebridge road; he drives on, heading towards Truro.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Friday
ON THE MORNING of Annabel’s lunch party the skies are grey, low cloud drifts along the cliff-tops, there is no wind and drizzly rain mists the windows.
‘It’s supposed to clear up later,’ Miles says encouragingly, when he brings her early morning tea. ‘You saw the forecast. Anyway, we eat inside so it doesn’t really matter.’
Annabel stares at him with cool contempt as he climbs back into bed. Can he really not see how much better everything is when the sun shines? She thinks of the plan, originally suggested by Miles, to allow the lunch to drift into an early evening drinks party, with delicious nibbles, which was to be held outside in the garden.
‘Of course it matters,’ she replies witheringly.
She sips her tea thoughtfully. Miles seems to have changed just lately. He is less amenable, less open to suggestion. He spends hours in the garden and on the golf course. This Bristol flat is a good idea, though, and she can’t wait to see Baz’s face when she tells him.
‘I shall get up,’ she says. ‘There’s lots to do. Meggie’s coming early before she goes on to baby-sit those twins.’
‘Flora and Freddie,’ says Miles.
Annabel raises her eyebrows, gives a little shrug. ‘And Jeff is coming to partner up with the godchild.’
‘Her name’s Sofia,’ murmurs Miles.
Annabel barely suppresses her sigh. She’s not interested in these details. She simply wants to make sure that Baz enjoys himself. He loves her parties, tells her how wonderful she is; she lives for it. He will sit beside her, of course, with Janet on his other side. Janet is a sweetie but her conversation isn’t riveting and Baz will not be too distracted by it. One of the reasons that she likes to have a proper sit-down lunch party is so that she can tie Baz beside her for as long as she can drag the lunch out. There will be twelve people, four or five courses, plenty to drink. Luckily nearly all her guests live within walking distance.
Annabel sighs with the pleasure of anticipation, throws aside the duvet, gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom.
Miles puts down his mug on the small bedside table, folds his arms behind his head and gazes into space. Given a choice he’d rather spend the time on the golf course, or in his greenhouse, but he knows that he must go along with it. He enjoyed these parties once, entertaining their friends, but he has lost the taste for it.
Perhaps it is true, he thinks, t
hat in the end we are what people imagine us to be. He is good old Miles, retired naval officer, who enjoys a round of golf and a drink at the clubhouse afterwards, and can always be relied upon to read the lesson at church. None of their local friends really knows the Bristol Miles; the Miles who loves classical music, concerts, and spending hours discussing poetry with El and Baz in little bistros. The prospect of the flat in Clifton has made it possible for him to continue with this farce of his marriage for a little longer.
Annabel comes in, towelling her hair, wrapped in her white bathrobe.
‘Shouldn’t you be getting on?’ she asks. ‘There’s a great deal to do and you can’t leave it all to me, you know.’
He swallows down a flash of anger and gets out of bed.
‘I’ll go downstairs and get breakfast on the go,’ he says. ‘And then I’ll shower and dress and take Daffy for a walk. I’m sure it’s going to be a great day.’
She stares at him with that all-too-familiar expression that seems to say, ‘And how would you know?’ and goes back into the bathroom. Miles stands quite still for a moment, holding his coffee mug. His gaze falls on a small silver photograph frame standing on a pretty bow-fronted chest. Lily smiles out at him; a small Lily with blonde hair fluffing round her happy face.
Miles breathes deeply. He raises the empty mug to her as if to toast her: ‘Bristol,’ he whispers to her. ‘Here’s to the future, Lily.’
‘I can’t say that I’m particularly looking forward to this,’ Dave says, as they clear up after breakfast. ‘I’m just wondering how Baz is going to react to the prospect of Annabel and Miles having a flat in Bristol when he’s about to embark on a whole new life with Sofia.’
They both glance instinctively towards the door but Sofia has gone off in her car and there is no sign of her returning unexpectedly.
‘I was just glad that Sofia was having tea with Liv when Miles came in yesterday,’ says Janet. ‘I hardly knew what to say but I can see how it might be so good for him. I hope you didn’t mind me telling him we’d have Daffy for the odd weekend if necessary.’
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