“I’m hurt by him leaving,” she mumbled, and Lee pulled her into a hug that she so desperately needed.
***
It wasn’t much later when Beth made her excuses and slipped into the bed in the spare room. Her head was spinning a little, and she had lost track of how many glasses of wine she had drunk; a second bottle must’ve been opened at some point. When sleep did not come easily, she pulled the laptop out of the drawer next to the bed for safekeeping (just in case Holly had made her way into the room), and opened it. There was a label on the left hand side, next to the track pad, and she ran her finger around the outside of it, reading the words over and over.
Caspian Blackwell
[email protected]
She didn’t know how old the laptop was, whether it was even an email he still used, but without pausing to think it through, she opened up her emails and began to type.
Because I promised.
Beth
She attached the document with her novel and hit send, not giving herself a chance to change her mind, then closed it and shoved it back in the drawer as if it had never happened.
Knowing she was probably only opening herself up to more pain, she let sleep overcome her and dreamed fitful dreams until Holly’s cries of ‘mama!’ woke her the next morning.
Chapter 29
She tried not to check her emails; tried to pretend that she hadn’t sent it to him. In a way, it was like she hadn’t; there was no reply, no acknowledgment of it at all. She wondered if it were an old email address, or if he really was hurt, like James had said. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Perhaps she was reading far too much into all of it.
It wasn’t really a conscious decision, but for the next few weeks she didn’t look at the notebook, or the laptop. She felt like it needed to be left for a bit; and if she were honest, she had no idea what to do with it next. Perhaps she would give it to Lee to read, but that could wait until the new year. The build up to Christmas was in full swing, and she focussed on little things in her day that she found enjoyable. Christmas lights strung through the trees at Greenway; the festive drinks Lee was serving at the café; watching Christmas films in her pyjamas at the weekends. One thing she was trying not to enjoy so frequently was wine; she had realised how commonplace a hangover was becoming, and although Christmas time wasn’t exactly a traditional time for cutting back, she didn’t have any social occasions she wanted to attend - besides her sister’s wedding. She was trying not to contemplate the fact that she would have to witness such a beautiful display of love two days before Christmas completely alone.
Nothing like a wedding to make you feel sorry for your own lack of a love life.
Her hours had been reduced a little at Greenway, due to the fact that fewer people wanted to roam the gardens in the middle of winter, but Sam gave her a few shifts in the chip shop and so she could survive all right on her earnings. That was how she found herself sat in her pyjamas watching yet another soppy Christmas film on a Wednesday morning, when there was a knock on the door.
When she opened it, she was surprised to see the postman; he usually left her mail with the shop’s downstairs, and she collected it when she remembered. It was almost always bills, anyway.
“Package for you to sign for,” he said, handing her the electronic pad and then the flat, brown-paper parcel. It had ‘fragile’ stamped across it in red lettering, and Beth was intrigued; her bank balance hovered in the black, but she hadn’t had enough to do any online shopping in a while. She’d already made excuses to her family in advance for the lack of Christmas presents they would be receiving - Holly would probably be the only one who got a proper gift.
Curiosity got the better of her, and as soon as she closed the door she ripped off the paper. The back of a frame came into view, and when she turned it over, her heart felt like it stopped. There, behind the glass, was the painting they had seen in the gallery in Newquay; Dartmouth viewed from the very top of the gardens at Greenway. She never had done the steep walk up there to look for herself, but she recognised it now, with its vivid blue water, and orange and red sky. And she knew there was only one person who could have sent it.
Tucked into the corner there was also a letter. Her hands shook as she opened the unmarked envelope, and two heavy sheets of paper slid out. One was typed, one handwritten, and it was that one she was drawn to first.
Dear Beth,
I bought this for you in Newquay. I wanted you to have it.
I loved your story, and showed it to a friend of mine who I do publicity for. He has a small press and is really interested. Please don’t be angry - I wanted to share how amazing it was. I’ve enclosed his offer to work with you - please at least think about it. No pressure.
Caspian.
She had to sit down before she read the next piece of paper, and in truth she reread the first several times before unfolding the second. It was much more formal, and introduced the gentleman - Sean Johnson - and explained the royalties he could offer and the editor he worked with.
It was all too much to take in.
Communication from Caspian - the first in weeks.
Such a beautiful reminder of the most perfect weekend she had ever had.
And a real, down to earth offer to publish the book that she’d scribbled in a notebook on her way to work, and in her lunch breaks.
She put the papers down, her hands still shaking a little, and made a cup of tea that she very much wished was wine.
***
It was growing dark outside by the time she’d wrapped her head around everything that package had contained. She couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed at him for sharing her work without asking; somehow, she could tell he’d only done it for the right reasons. She was astounded anyone thought it was good enough to take any further; but the first decision she made was that yes, she would contact this Sean. After all, she’d talked about having meaning, talked about finding a career and a hobby that gave her more of a purpose - and this was surely a huge stepping stone to that. She’d be a fool to turn it down, even if it made her very nervous.
The painting she hung on her bedroom wall, knowing that every time she looked at it she would feel happy, even if it was tinged with sadness. She tried not to let her emotions about how things had turned out interfere with her memories of that perfect weekend in glorious Newquay.
The final issue wasn’t so easy to deal with: whether she should contact Caspian. On one hand, she thought it would be extremely rude not to; on the other hand, she had been the one to start the communication - perhaps she should be the one to let in lie.
But on yet another hand, she really, really wanted to speak to him.
Even if she knew it would hurt.
Chapter 30
She made herself wait until the next day, but when she woke up early for work and saw the framed picture on the opposite wall, hung a little off centre, she couldn’t help herself. It took her a moment to decide what to write; she went with the simple sentiment that she felt needed expressing.
Thank you.
The response came while she was in the shower, and it was only as she packed her lunch into her bag for work that she saw it.
You’re welcome. I really enjoyed your book.
She didn’t know what to reply to that, other than ‘thank you’, which seemed a little redundant, and so she forced herself to throw the phone in the bottom of her bag and leave it there.
The air was crisp but the sky blue, and she found her journey to work more enjoyable than it had been in recent weeks. The ferry had old-fashioned Christmas lights wrapped around any surface possible, and it made her smile as it pulled into the harbour.
“Morning!” John the fisherman called from his frequent spot on the bench overlooking the water. His coat was a heavier winter one, but he was still out in all weathers, despite his clearly advancing years.
“Morning!” she called back.
“Still writing that novel?”
&nbs
p; “I finished,” she said with a smile.
“When will I be seeing it in bookshops?” he asked with a smile of his own.
“One day soon, I hope! See you later!” She practically skipped onto the ferry, unsure what had put her in such a good mood, but embracing it none the less.
***
The tour groups were small that day but cheery, and Beth enjoyed taking them round the property, which had been decorated with the Christmas ornaments Agatha Christie herself had bought for her family, as well as greenery from the extensive gardens. Everybody seemed to be embracing the Christmas spirit, and when she returned them to the front desk at the end of the tour, she was pleased to hear several of them excitedly talking about everything they’d learnt.
“Oh, Beth, perfect timing,” Tanya called over. “There’s someone on the phone for you!”
Beth furrowed her brow slightly - no-one had ever phoned her at work. She didn’t think she’d ever given the number to anybody, although she supposed it wouldn’t be that hard to find online.
She picked it up and waited a second for Tanya to head back out to the front desk. “Hello?”
“Oh, hello, Beth. It’s Mandy here, Caspian’s mum.”
“Oh. Hello, Mandy.” Her heart was racing - had something happened? Mandy didn’t sound perturbed, but why on earth would she be calling her at work?
“Sorry to call you at work, dear, but I didn’t know how else to get in touch with you!”
“That’s fine,” Beth said. “Is… is everything okay?”
“Yes thank you. It’s silly really, but I was hoping you could help me. I’ve had a Christmas tree delivered, and I told the young man I’d be fine getting it in the house by myself, but I don’t seem to be able to get it through the doorway. I don’t really have anyone else to ask, and I was wondering if there was any chance you could come round and give me a hand?”
It seemed a very strange request from a woman she had only met twice, but she was so pleasant and warm on the phone that Beth didn’t feel she could refuse. Besides, it was all in the spirit of Christmas, wasn’t it?
“Of course I can,” she said. “I can come round after work, say five o’clock?”
“Perfect,” she said. She reeled off her address for Beth to note down, before saying her goodbyes. Beth paused for a minute, wondering how she had ended up agreeing to help her ex-whatever’s mother move a Christmas tree, before hurrying back to her next tour group.
***
It was slightly after five when she reached Mandy’s house; it had taken her longer than planned to get home and collect her car, and then she’d taken a wrong turn on the winding roads through Strete and missed the house entirely. From the light streaming from the living room window, she could see the large fir tree propped against the house, and wondered why the delivery boy hadn’t insisted on taking it inside. She only hoped she could manage it.
She knocked on the door and was welcomed in by Mandy, who had a fire roaring in her real fireplace.
“Oh, thank you for coming!”
“Sorry I’m late,” Beth said. “Where shall I bring it in to, then?” she didn’t remove her coat or gloves, knowing she’d need them out in the chilly wind.
“Just into the living room, please. I’ll come and give you a hand, it’s definitely too heavy for one person! I think I ordered one far too big, but I do love Christmas.”
“You remind me of my sister!” Beth said as they headed out into the cold. “She can’t get enough of Christmas!”
Between them they manhandled the tree through the door. Beth was a little worried they might have taken the top off it, but she supposed decorations could hide any bare patches. Getting it through the narrow living room door was even harder, but with a lot of grunting and pushing they eventually reached the designated corner, and Beth held it upright with some difficulty as Mandy screwed it in to the stand.
“Marvellous,” she said, with a broad grin that reminded Beth of Caspian’s smile. “I feel properly Christmassy now. Thank you for coming out of your way to help me. Let me get you a drink. Tea? Coffee?”
“I should get back…”
“Go on, one drink, please? I want to say thank you.” Her eyes were kind when she met Beth’s, and Beth found herself nodding.
“Okay. Tea please.”
They sat in front of the fire for longer than Beth planned, and somehow Caspian was not mentioned. She was sure that was intentional, because had Mandy not known of their situation, surely she would have mentioned him at least once? He was the link between them, after all. Instead they talked about Christmas; Beth told her about her sister’s Christmas wedding, and Mandy lamented that Beth had not had a chance to experience the Christmassy spirit around the area, other than in Dartmouth and at work.
“Oh, the Christmas market in Totnes is one not to miss,” she said, and Beth smiled.
“My sister keeps going on about that, so I’m sure I’ll make it there at some point!”
“And have you seen the driftwood Christmas tree down at the beach? It’s beautiful strung with lights at night. I think one of the local hotels puts it together every year. Always slightly different, but brings that bit of festive magic to the seaside. You should definitely stop by and see it.”
As she began to get hungry and heard the clock in the hallway strike seven, she insisted she had to go. “Have a lovely Christmas,” she said, leaning to kiss Mandy on the cheek.
“You too, dear. I hope to see you again, sometime.”
She wasn’t sure when that would happen, but she echoed the sentiment and hurried through the cold air to her car.
She had begun driving home when, on a whim, she decided to go and look at that driftwood Christmas tree by the beach. As much as she had enjoyed talking to Mandy, it had brought a touch of sadness to her day as she remembered the lunch they had shared and what she was missing out on. And Lee did always tell her that Christmas spirit made everything seem better. Granted, she had never been quite as obsessed with Christmas as her sister, but Lee did have a tendency to be right about most things.
***
Beth felt a shiver as she pulled up in the dark car park overlooking the beach. It was that same car park where she had gone for her reckless late night swim back in the summer; that same beach where she had met Caspian for the first time. Where she had kissed him…
She got out of the car and pulled her coat tightly around her body. It was so much colder here, exposed to the bitter wind from the sea. Just as Mandy had described it, there on the path leading to the beach was a tall tree made of driftwood at different angles. Multi-coloured lights - which she presumed were battery operated - were strung around it, just about bright enough to be reflected in the waves that lapped the beach. It had a rustic charm that made her feel a little warmer inside, and as she turned back to the warmth of her car, she was sure she had made the right decision in stopping off here on her way home.
And then…there he was.
She knew it was him, even in the darkness; she recognised the way he stood, his profile in the light of the moon and those Christmas tree lights. He stood not a metre from the tree, very still, looking out to sea, and she didn’t think he had noticed her up in the car park. There were no other cars here; had he run, like he had in the summer?
Her feet moved without permission from her head, and as her boots crunched in the sand, he turned his head and she thought she saw a smile in the moonlight. She stood next to him, shaking a little, feeling a tension between them, feeling like there was some gap that could not be bridged.
“Not swimming tonight?” she finally said, and was rewarded with a laugh.
“I think it would give me a heart attack,” he said. “So no, not tonight. You?”
She shook her head. “I never was as dedicated as you.”
Silence.
“How’s Edinburgh?” she finally asked, feeling like it was a silence that had to be filled.
He paused, and she didn’t look at hi
m as he answered. “There’s no fireworks there.”
She turned then to face him, needing to see his eyes, desperate to touch his skin - but holding herself back.
“I miss you,” he said, and she felt like the coldness surround her was melting away.
“I miss you too,” she answered. “I miss the fireworks.”
He took a step towards her, and for a moment they stood on that beach, waves crashing behind them, a centimetre or so between them, and felt the emotions shimmering in the air around them. Then he moved his icy, gloveless hand to her face and stroked his thumb across her cheek.
“I’ve been a total idiot,” he said, and she only realised she was crying when she felt the warm, salty tracks down her cold face.
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