The Cottage at Hope Cove

by Hannah Ellis

  That voice grew quieter with wine.

  Soon, she was curled on the couch with her legs under her, having eaten a lovely meal of pasta and salad. She was completely at ease.

  “So you’re all finished with this place?” she asked. There was only really the furniture left.

  “I think so.” He rested an arm along the back of the couch. “Mum cleared out a lot earlier in the summer. Took all the things she wanted to keep. We were supposed to take anything we wanted and get rid of the rest. And paint the windows,” he added with a flicker of a smile. “Mum’s hoping whoever buys the place might like to buy the furniture too, but I’m not convinced. I think any buyer would want to modernise.”

  “It seems a shame,” Elizabeth mused. She thought the furniture was lovely. It was mostly oak – solid and sturdy but not old-fashioned. The whole place was beautiful. “None of the family wants to take it on?”

  “Nope,” Max said.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to depress you.”

  His phone rang then, making them jump. He went into the kitchen to answer it, and Elizabeth found herself straining to hear. She couldn’t make out any words, but knew from his expression when he’d answered that it was his fiancée.

  Elizabeth was gazing into the fire when he returned. The atmosphere had changed. “What’s she like?” she asked solemnly. “Jessica?”

  “She’s kind,” he said, settling back into the couch. “And sweet and funny. She’s so full of life. Always on the go. She likes to organise people.”

  “She sounds amazing,” Elizabeth said, twirling her wine glass at the stem.

  There was a brief pause before Max spoke again. “It annoys me that she won’t go to the farm,” he said softly. “And she’s only been here once.”

  “How could she not love this place?” Elizabeth wondered aloud.

  “She thinks it’s drab.”

  “Drab?”

  “That was the word she used.”

  Elizabeth surveyed the cosy living room with its roaring fire. She thought of stepping through the hedge at the end of the garden to be met with that incredible view. How could anyone describe it as drab?

  “I wanted to buy the place,” he said. “But she thinks that if we’re going to buy a holiday home it should be somewhere in Europe with more reliable weather.”

  They fell silent. Elizabeth couldn’t think of anything to say. She found herself suddenly nervous again.

  Max took her left hand and inspected her engagement ring. “What’s he like?”

  Elizabeth let her hand linger in Max’s and struggled again to find any words. “He’s nice,” she said eventually.

  “Nice?” Max said, reaching for his wine.

  Elizabeth frowned at her pathetic choice of word. “It’s not a bad quality, is it?”

  “Not at all.”

  She thought some more. Surely she could come up with a better adjective than nice? She was marrying him, after all. “He’s handsome,” she said. “And dependable.”

  Wow. She wasn’t doing a good job of describing him.

  “We’re similar, I guess. Both work too much. We want the same things out of life…”

  “Like what?” Max asked.

  “This is starting to feel like an interrogation!”

  “I’m just interested,” he said. “I can’t understand what sort of man would leave you to come here alone.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said quickly as a sense of panic crept through her. She knew she was walking on dangerous ground. She shouldn’t have agreed to dinner. No good was ever going to come of it.

  He persevered, his voice determined. “So what is it you want out of life? What big plans do you have?”

  She shot him a warning glance, hoping he’d get the message and back off.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve probably had too much wine.”

  “It’s okay.” His questions weren’t actually the problem; it was the answers that made her uncomfortable. And the way her emotions had become such a jumbled mess over the course of the week.

  “So what happens after tomorrow?” he asked gently. “Can we keep in touch?”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “No,” she whispered, “I don’t think we can.”

  “I thought you might say that.”

  “I think I should go.” She moved to get up, but he laid a hand over hers.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “You didn’t.” It was her own feelings that were making her uncomfortable.

  He seemed sad. Without thinking, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. When their eyes locked she felt like she was being torn apart. She knew they couldn’t stay in touch, but the thought of never seeing him again made her feel sick. Briefly, she closed her eyes and all she was aware of was her racing heart and his soft hair in her fingers.

  The fire crackled loudly. She knew she should leave, but couldn’t bring herself to move. He didn’t flinch when she leaned towards him.

  His lips were soft against hers. It was only a fleeting kiss. Barely anything really, just a gentle brush of lips before she came to her senses and pulled back.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be.”

  He followed her to the front door. She’d just touched the handle when he reached for her elbow. Their lips met again as soon as she turned. His hands were on her face and in her hair. She didn’t even try to resist, instead pushing her body closer to his until he pinned her against the wall. He kissed her desperately, and then his mouth dropped to her neck and her collarbone. His kisses made her skin tingle.

  “Stop,” she said, breathlessly. She couldn’t do this. “Stop.”

  After one last kiss on her shoulder, his eyes came up to meet hers. Their bodies remained together and she rested her cheek against his. “Sorry.”

  “I don’t want to leave and never see you again,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

  She kissed his cheek and breathed in his scent. “I need to go,” she said tearfully.

  “I don’t want to say goodbye to you tomorrow.”

  “Max,” she said, her voice firm and pleading at the same time. This was all wrong.

  He took a step back, as though she’d slapped him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. Then she fled without looking back.

  Chapter 22

  Back at Seaview Cottage she stood in the hallway thinking about what she’d done. She should never have gone over there. It was a stupid, irrational thing to do. She knew things had gone past platonic with Max, and yet she’d gone to see him anyway.

  For a while, she wondered if he might follow her. Then, briefly, she thought about going back to him – and not to apologise. His kisses lingered, and part of her wanted more. A big part of her, if she was honest. But none of this was real, she told herself. It was just a silly little holiday romance. Not even that. In the real world she’d never fall for someone like Max. No, she thought, in the real world she’d be with someone like Phil. Dependable, reliable Phil, who wanted the same things out of life as she did.

  In the end, she trudged up to bed but couldn’t switch her thoughts off and had another night of staring at the ceiling while her mind raced. When she finally fell asleep it was with thoughts of Max – and his kisses.

  She was awake again after only a few hours, filled with anxiety at the thought of saying goodbye to Max. What if he really thought there was something meaningful between them? What if he tried to convince her to leave Phil?

  And what if he didn’t? What if he said it had been the wine talking? What if he wished her well and they went their separate ways?

  What if she never saw him again?

  Tears stung her eyes.

  She set off to watch the sunrise over the beach, hoping it would help her figure things out. There was only the thinnest line of orange stretched across the horizon when she arrived at the top of the beach, but within minut
es the sun’s rays had burst gloriously across the sky. Everything glittered and glowed: oranges and pinks and yellows filled the sky and splashed onto the water.

  Then she saw him sitting on the beach. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed him, but it had been dark when she’d arrived, and she wasn’t expecting him. He sat gazing at the spectacular display in the sky.

  Tears rolled down Elizabeth’s cheeks. She could go to him, wrap her arms around him, kiss him… That was what she wanted to do. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to give everything up. They could buy his mum’s house and live there together.

  Her thoughts were running away from her. She looked back at the cottage. The easiest thing to do would be to get in her car and leave. No goodbyes, no questions, no discussion. She could go and get on with her life. Pretend the week had never happened. But when she turned to catch one last glimpse of Max, she knew she couldn’t do it. If she really wanted to go home and get on with her life, she had to say goodbye. She had to draw a line under this. Whatever this was.

  He flashed her a sad smile when she reached him.

  “You stole my sunrise spot,” she said.

  “I know, and I don’t even have coffee.”

  She sat close beside him and instinctively leaned her head on his shoulder. It felt so natural to be close to him and… oh, God, did he bathe in aftershave or what? Why did he have to smell so delicious? She didn’t ever want to move.

  They stayed that way for a while, watching the sunrise and saying nothing. She knew that once she started talking, it would all come to an end. And she wanted to drag things out a little while longer.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he said finally.

  “If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I knew I shouldn’t come over last night. And I did kiss you first. And I was the one who kept turning up all week.”

  “To be fair, I kept inviting you places. Even though I knew I shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t want to discuss whose fault it is,” she said softly. “And I don’t want to be sorry for any of it.”

  He looked at her. “But you are going home today?”

  “I have to. I need to get back to my life.”

  “Okay,” he said, his face suddenly void of emotion.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say. But part of her thought he’d argue, ask her to stay. Put up some sort of fight. But he had a fiancée too. He had as much to lose as she did. Why had she thought she would have meant more to him?

  “I’m not sure what to say,” she said.

  “Goodbye?” he suggested.

  “You seem angry.”

  “I’m trying to make things easier for you.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “It doesn’t feel easy.”

  “Will you at least take my number?”

  The tears spilled over, rolling down her cheeks. “If I take your number, I’ll end up calling you.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” he said sadly.

  “I love Phil,” she said. “I have everything I want. I just need to get back to my life.”

  “Okay.”

  “You love Jessica,” she argued. “You have everything you want too. We can’t mess all that up. We’d just end up hurting everyone. We barely even know each other.”

  “I know,” he said, taking her hand and entwining his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry.” With his other hand he reached up to brush her tears away. “I know we’ve only just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. This week has been amazing. I don’t want to just walk away.”

  “But what would we do?” she asked, pulling away. “Just give everything up and run away together?”

  “What if we did?” he said.

  She laughed manically and struggled for words. What he was suggesting was ridiculous. “We can’t,” she said. “I can’t risk everything for a holiday romance.”

  “But what if it’s more than a holiday romance?” His voice was pleading and she couldn’t bear it. “Running away together is crazy, I know, but we should at least stay in touch. See how things work out.”

  “I’m not going to have an affair with you,” she said angrily. “This week has been bad enough. It should never have happened.”

  “Maybe it was supposed to happen,” he said.

  She shook her head sadly. “I have to go,” she said, kissing his cheek. She lingered too long and when she went to pull away her lips brushed his, and then she was kissing him again. She couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Finally, she forced herself to pull away.

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She hurried up the beach, not trusting herself to look back.

  Chapter 23

  The drive home was horrendous. Her mind drifted constantly to Max and she kept having to wipe away tears so she could see the road ahead. She should have stopped; her driving wasn’t safe. But she knew that if she stopped she might turn around and go back to Max.

  She needed to get home. When she was back with Phil and her real life, everything would feel normal again, she was sure of it. That’s what she kept telling herself, but the closer she got to home the more she hated the thought of it. She didn’t want to see Phil and she didn’t want to be back in the home she shared with him. She wanted to be in Seaside Cottage with Max.

  She’d known saying goodbye to him would be difficult, but it had been even worse than she’d imagined. Would he really have ended his relationship with Jessica for her? She hadn’t seriously thought he’d want things to go any further. They were both engaged. What he had suggested was irrational and reckless. She was absolutely right to walk away.

  Fresh tears appeared as she remembered how hurt he’d looked. Had she made a huge mistake?

  She inhaled deeply and told herself to get a grip. Max would have come to his senses by now. He was probably already on his way back to Jessica. Back to the idiot who didn’t like dogs, or cottages by the sea, and who obviously didn’t know how lucky she was.

  Get a grip! she told herself again, this time more sternly.

  It was late morning by the time she reached her home in Oxford. Phil came to the door to greet her. She was surprised to see him, and wished she’d made more of an effort to compose herself first. “I thought you’d be at work,” she said.

  “I decided to work at home today,” he said. “I wanted to be here when you got back.”

  She was surprised by how pleased she was to see him. Somehow she’d convinced herself she was returning to something awful. But it was as though she’d stepped into a parallel universe. They had a beautiful house, with lovely things. And there was Phil. Good old familiar Phil. It was a relief to see him. When he put his arms around her, she couldn’t help the tears that came.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, rubbing her back.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her words muffled by his shoulder.

  He led her into the living room and to the couch. All she could do was apologise.

  “Stop saying you’re sorry, and tell me what’s wrong.” He was full of concern. “Why are you so upset? Did something happen?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I just feel so emotional. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He brushed her hair back and pulled her to him again. “I’m sorry. I should have been there with you. I hate that you were alone all week.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “It would have been better if you were there.” Everything would have been different if he’d been with her as he was supposed to be. She’d have had a lovely sunny break and then gone back to her life. Her world wouldn’t feel like it was falling down around her.

  “You look different,” Phil said. “What happened to you?”

  Surprised by his words, she went back into the hallway, stopping in front of the mirror. She stared blankly at her reflection, wondering who she was looking at. Her hair hung to her shoulders, streaked with highlights from the sun. Her skin glowed with a light tan. S
he looked like a surfer. She wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up. In fact, she hadn’t even showered that morning, and the shorts she’d pulled on were splattered with paint. She hadn’t noticed, just dressed in whatever she found first.

  “I need to shower,” she said, moving to the stairs. “I got straight in the car this morning. I won’t be long.”

  After a long shower she slowly put herself back together: immaculate, expensive clothes; her hair twisted at the back of her head and held in place by a clip and a ton of hairspray; then make-up. It was such a familiar routine, and she wondered why it suddenly felt so foreign.

  Afterwards, she remained at the dressing table for a while, looking in the mirror and feeling nothing but confusion. She could do this, she told herself. She could go back to her life and carry on as though the past week hadn’t happened.

  Phil made coffee and they sat together at the kitchen island. Elizabeth felt she was seeing everything for the first time. It was a lovely house: neat and ordered, everything in its place. It could’ve been a show home. She thought of the painting of Hope Cove, which was still in the back of her car, and wondered where she would hang it.

  “So?” Phil said, looking at her over his coffee. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m fine.” But she didn’t feel fine at all. She smiled weakly, wishing she had the guts to tell Phil the truth and go back to Max. But he’d be gone by now, back to his life and his fiancée.

  Phil kissed her and she forced herself to kiss him back. After a moment she pulled away, wittering about work and how much she would have missed.

  “I should probably start going through my emails,” she said with false cheer.

  “You really haven’t checked them all week?”

  “No.”

  “There wasn’t any internet at the cottage, was there?” he said with a smirk. “There’s no way you could keep away from work for a week otherwise. Tell me the truth.”