by Emma Rous
6
Laura
September 1991
FROM THE MOMENT Alex sprang out of his bright yellow sports car onto the Summerbourne driveway, I detected an undercurrent between him and Ruth. It crackled between them, adding an edginess to the social niceties, pulsing in the mistiming of their reactions to each other.
“I’ve got the keys!” Alex waved them in one hand, raising a bottle of champagne in the other. “And I realized this morning it’s ten years since we met. Can you believe it?”
Dominic took the bottle and shook his hand, and Ruth stepped forward to kiss him on both cheeks while Edwin danced around him on the gravel.
“Ten years since freshers’ week? Good God,” Dominic said. “We’re getting old.”
Alex lifted a bouquet of yellow and orange flowers from the passenger seat, and Ruth smiled at them.
“Freesias,” she said. “How lovely.” She dipped her face to them.
“And roses,” Alex said. Edwin scuffed his sandal into the gravel, and Alex made a show of clapping his hand to his forehead.
“I almost forgot the most important present of all.” He encouraged Edwin to feel around under the seats and peer into the glove compartment, until Edwin finally persuaded him to check in the Alfa Romeo’s little trunk. A yellow toy dumper truck was discovered, and Edwin dashed off with it to test it in his sandpit.
I hovered on the front step until Dominic called me over. Alex took my hand in his.
“Lovely to meet you, Laura,” he said, a trace of the smile from Edwin’s antics still lingering on his lips. He was shorter than Dominic but broader shouldered, his muscled arms smooth and brown, his handshake surprisingly gentle. For a moment the three of us blinked in a circle around him, transfixed, as he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“Ah, can’t beat that Summerbourne air,” he declared.
“Too right,” said Dominic. “Does you the world of good, escaping to the coast after a hard week in the office. You know you’ve started a trend—the Mellards viewed a really dilapidated place last week. Closer to the beach than yours, though. Lots of potential, apparently.”
Alex grinned. “Money pit, more like.”
Ruth groaned. “Can you imagine the Mellards descending on the village every weekend? We’d have to escape into town.” Both men laughed.
I hung back as they made their way through to the kitchen, talking over the top of one another, discussing estate agents and solicitors and surveyors. Dominic was keen to open the champagne straightaway.
“Let’s wait ’til we’re on the beach, darling,” Ruth said. “We’ll have it with lunch.”
I escaped through the door at the back of the hall and joined Edwin at his sandpit. We chatted companionably until the kitchen doors were flung open.
“Five minutes!” Ruth called. “Are you all set, you two?”
I waved and nodded. She disappeared back inside.
“Can you carry my truck, Missus Laura Silvey?” Edwin asked, patting my arm with his sandy hand. He was trying to make me smile. I hugged him, transferring sand onto my T-shirt. “Of course I can, lovely boy.”
Between us we carried the picnic essentials to the top of the cliff steps. Dominic retrieved a large beach parasol and a faded fabric windbreak from the folly tower, and the two men made an extra trip up and down the cliff steps to bring everything onto the beach. Ruth directed the placing of picnic blankets and coolers, and then she settled in the prime spot under the parasol, kicking off her sandals. The coral pink nail varnish on her toes and fingers matched her dress perfectly.
A lightweight sailing dinghy borrowed from one of the neighbors rested at the base of the cliff, and Edwin repeatedly asked his parents to let him play on it.
“Daddy will take you out on it later, darling,” Ruth said. “Why don’t you see what you can find in the rock pools now with Laura?” Dominic was settling himself on the blanket on one side of her and Alex on the other, and for a brief moment all three of them squinted up at me. I reached for Edwin’s hand.
“Let’s go!” I said, grabbing a bucket and net, and we raced over to the rocks. I kept my back to the picnic spot while Edwin poked through the first pool, and I hunched my shoulders against the laughter that drifted over the sand toward us. I wouldn’t have wanted to sit with them, even if they’d asked me to. I had no desire to share their conversation about house prices, or their in-jokes, or their champagne.
“Don’t forget your sun cream,” Edwin said, peering at my cheeks.
“Let’s find the biggest crab ever,” I said, and set to work lifting the loose rocks, shredding my fingernails in the process, so that he could scoop underneath them with his net. Eventually, Dominic ambled over to admire Edwin’s catches and to tell us lunch was ready.
Alex declared the picnic a triumph. It’s not the word I would have used. Soggy puff pastry cases containing limp prawns, too big for one mouthful but too fragile to sink your teeth into. Wild rice salad laced with gritty husks. Baguettes with sharp crusts and wispy interiors. Edwin and I sat on our own blanket and polished off the cold roast chicken drumsticks between us.
I declined Dominic’s offer of champagne, but watched surreptitiously as both Alex and Ruth sipped theirs slowly, while Dominic knocked back his first glass and poured himself a second.
Ruth reached out a hand as he went to pour a third. “Don’t you think you should save that for after the Topper?”
“Fine. Twenty minutes to let your lunch go down, young man, and we’ll take the boat out, okay?”
Edwin bounced up and down. “I’m going to run to the rock pools twenty times. Watch me, Uncle Alex!”
“Where does he get his energy from?” Alex asked, watching him, and Ruth caught my eye and we smiled briefly at each other.
“Goodness knows,” she said.
Eventually, Edwin slowed down and lost count, throwing himself onto the blanket at Ruth’s feet. Dominic yawned and stretched.
“We must remember coffee next time—should have brought a flask,” he said.
Ruth didn’t look at him. “Feel free.”
I agreed with him privately, although I’d have preferred tea.
Alex helped Dominic drag the dinghy to the shore, and then the two men shed their clothes down to their trunks and slid the boat into the surf. Edwin nestled in the central section, bundled into an orange life jacket, and the men’s voices floated back to us as they pushed the boat toward deeper water.
Ruth stretched out in her patch of shade, propped up on her elbows, and sighed.
“Isn’t this just the perfect day?”
I hugged my knees without replying, watching Alex’s arms steady the boat while Dominic hauled himself onto it. The breeze carried Edwin’s shrill chatter to us. The vessel looked flimsy on the choppy surface, and I marveled at the little boy’s confidence.
“He’d love to have children of his own, of course.”
I knew who she meant. I nodded, and took my sunglasses off to rub a smear of sun cream from the lens, half shocked at this glimpse into Alex’s desires, half wanting to hear more. Ruth yawned and sipped her champagne.
Dominic fiddled with the sail, and suddenly, the dinghy leaped into life, shooting away from Alex and bouncing across the waves. Down in its hollow center, Edwin whooped. Alex shouted encouragement as Dominic swung the boat round and raced back again. Ruth clapped, and we watched them zigzag back and forth for a while.
Alex threw up his hands as he strode out of the sea. “Your son’s an adrenaline junkie!” He shook salt water over the picnic remnants as he toweled his hair. Ruth tilted a glass at him, and he dropped onto the blanket next to her.
I fixed my gaze on the little boat zipping back and forth, burrowing my toes under the sand at the edge of the blanket.
“So, am I going to have to go shopping with you?” Ruth said. “Mak
e sure you don’t turn this cottage into a sad bachelor pad?”
Alex laughed. “It’s about as far from bachelor pad as it could be at the moment.”
“I’m sure there’s lots we can do with it,” Ruth said.
My neck was stiff. Their feet were in my field of vision: hers pale and delicate with pink varnished ovals; his brown and smooth with nails cut straight across. When he said something in a low voice, she rolled toward him and her toes brushed his shin. I clenched my jaw.
The little boat bobbed closer to the shore, and Dominic slid off into the water to tow it in. A faint wail reached our spot on the beach. I leaped up and met them at the water’s edge, taking Edwin from Dominic’s arms as he swung him off the boat.
“I swallowed it,” Edwin sobbed, and I helped him up the sand and wrapped him in a towel. Alex poked a straw into a carton of juice for him.
“Unlucky, Edwin,” Dominic told him. “You did great up ’til then. That was a monster wave that got you.”
Edwin sniffed and nodded. Dominic poured himself some more champagne and lay back, puffing out heavily.
“I’d offer to take you out, Laura, but that’s finished me off,” he said, his eyelids lowered.
“Darling, it’s the champagne that’s finished you off,” Ruth said.
Dominic raised his head for a moment. “Alex’ll take you if you fancy it. Won’t you, Alex?” He settled his head back down on the blanket, easing it left and right to shape the underlying sand into a more comfortable pillow. “She’s a proper swimmer, our Laura—a real athlete.”
I rubbed sand from my shins, frowning.
Ruth nudged Alex with her foot. “Yes, go on, Alex.”
“You can’t stay at Summerbourne without learning how to sail a Topper,” Dominic said, his eyes firmly closed.
Alex looked at me. “Have you done it before?” I shook my head. He stood up and stretched, and then held his hand out to me.
“Shall we?”
Ruth settled back onto her elbows with a serene smile, her huge pink-framed sunglasses hiding her eyes. I fumbled out of my shorts and T-shirt, tugging at the black fabric of my swimming costume automatically, wishing I owned something prettier. I’d lost weight when I was ill a few months earlier, and hadn’t been able to train at the pool, and this had left me feeling self-consciously sharp angled and untoned.
I kept my eyes fixed on the sea, and then on the boat as Alex and I dragged it into the water together. When he cupped his hand under my elbow to help me climb aboard, the breeze snatched my breath away.
“How d’you feel up there?” he asked.
I looked at the glittering surface of the sea and the dark strands of his hair and the tiny hesitation in his smile. “Precarious.”
He laughed and sprang up to join me. “Just relax, and lean with me,” he said. “You’ll get a feel for it in no time.”
The moment the sail went up, we were seized by the elements. The restless mass of water sucked at the hull beneath us, threatening to swallow us, but the wind scooped us up and sent us skimming over the surface, our hair whipping behind us. Sunlight refracted off the spray; everything sparkled. His thigh pressed against my thigh, his shoulder pressed against my shoulder, and the heat from his limbs soaked into my muscles and made my heart swell.
We swayed in synchrony, countering the tug of the sail as the boat shot across the waves. Alex threw his head back and laughed at the sky, and I leaned in closer to him, awed by the power of the wind and his seemingly effortless control over where it took us.
“Like it?” he asked.
“I love it!”
I lost all track of time as we flew over the surface of the planet together.
Afterward, when it was all over and we were tugging the boat through waist-deep water toward the shore, he asked me how I was enjoying living at Summerbourne.
“Have you fallen under their spell, the golden couple? Are they treating you well?” There was a fleeting intensity in his look. I had no idea how to answer beyond a vague nod and a shrug.
Neither Dominic nor Ruth left the picnic spot to help us haul the boat up the sand, but they greeted us with smiles and congratulations.
“Bravo! What do you think, Laura? Are you a convert?” Dominic asked.
Ruth threw me a towel and indicated the sleeping child by her side.
“We’ve actually managed to wear him out.” She passed me a plastic tumbler of cool lemonade, and brushed at something on Alex’s shoulder as he collapsed onto the blanket next to her.
“That was exhilarating,” Alex said. “Magnificent. I may have to come down every weekend while the weather’s like this.”
“And in the winter,” Ruth said.
“Whenever I can.” He smiled.
“Come and visit me in the week sometimes,” she said, her fingertips resting on his smooth forearm. “It’s so tediously boring here in the week.”
Dominic grunted from his prone position. “I like the way you pretend you’re stuck out here against your will.” He yawned. “You know your mother’s lusting after one of those luxury apartments in Kensington, darling. We can move into Winterbourne whenever you like.”
Ruth angled her hat brim between herself and her husband. “You know how I feel about the city. It’s much better for Edwin to be here.”
Dominic hauled himself up onto one elbow and lifted the lid of a cool box. “Beer?” he asked Alex, pulling out a bottle. Alex waved a hand to decline.
Ruth frowned. “Promise me you’ll come down in the week sometimes, in the winter.”
“I do have a life in Leeds, you know,” Alex said. “A little thing called a job. I can’t spend my whole life driving up and down the motorway.” He took a breath as though about to say more, but then gave a small laugh instead. “Much as I’d love to spend all my free time here.”
“Move down here then,” Ruth said.
Alex pulled a face.
A seagull flapped down onto the edge of my blanket, making me jump. It grabbed a discarded lump of pastry and stalked away to shake it apart on the sand. Ruth sprang to her feet.
“Right, time to head back. I can’t bear this heat a minute longer.” She scooped paper plates and detritus into coolers and slammed on lids.
“Ruth, Edwin’s still asleep,” Dominic said.
“You can carry him, can’t you?”
“Well, yes, but not him and everything else.”
“Well, come back for everything else.”
She picked up a bag and her hat, and marched off toward the steps, calling out, “I have a headache. I’ll see you back at the house.”
Dominic groaned. “Sorry, guys.”
“Do you want me to carry Edwin back?” Alex asked.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll carry him. If you can both bring a bag or two, I’ll come back for the rest later.”
We barely spoke on the way back. I stumbled once at the top of the cliff steps, and Alex stepped closer to steady me with his forearm, the bottles sliding and clinking in the cool box he carried.
“Steady,” he said, and he waited for me to regain control of my clumsy limbs, his smile making my heart rattle. I mumbled an apology, but I carried the glow of our skin contact all the way back along the cliff path, through the trees, past the blushing dahlias and starry-headed asters in their neat-edged beds.
The back doors were open, Ruth’s hat abandoned on the kitchen table. Alex declined Dominic’s offer of a drink.
“Thanks, but I’ll be off. I’m driving home tonight. No furniture at the cottage yet.”
“You can sleep here—” Dominic waved a hand vaguely, but Alex shook his head.
“It was a great day. Really. Nice to meet you, Laura. Give me a bell in the week, Dom.” He let himself out.
Edwin was stirring, and I suggested that I toast some crumpets for his tea,
and find him a quiet activity in the day nursery for an hour or so before bedtime.
“You sure you don’t mind?” Dominic asked.
“Not at all.”
“Thanks, Laura. I’ve got that lamp for you, by the way. It’s in the trunk of my car—I’ll bring it in later.” He shuffled out to the hall and up the stairs. I thought about the remaining picnic equipment waiting on the beach.
Alex’s sunglasses poked out between towels in one of the bags. I transferred them to the kitchen windowsill. He’d be back to pick them up soon enough, with a bit of luck.
7
Seraphine
I WAKE EARLY on Monday morning, and set off from Summerbourne on foot, a good half an hour before my appointment with Pamela Larch at the doctor’s office. I’ve known Pamela all my life, so I’m hoping she won’t mind me not giving a reason to the receptionist over the phone. I still remember the receptionist, Hayley Pickersgill, as an eight-year-old, asking me why I didn’t look like my twin brother. Asking me whether it was true that Summerbourne was cursed, that witches had stolen my mother’s real children, and that my mother had bargained with her soul to try to get them back.
“But the witches took the real twins anyway,” she’d whispered, wide-eyed. “And the fairies left you and Danny, sprite babies, as a swap. Is it true?”
I was suspended from school for three days after I punched her. One of her teeth was knocked out, although Danny assured me afterward it was only one of her wobbly baby teeth. Dad had to come back from London to talk to the head teacher, and by the time I was allowed back at school, Hayley had told everyone I was mental. I was only six, but I didn’t get invited to birthday parties in the village for a long time after that.
I put Hayley Pickersgill out of my mind. The earlier mist has cleared to reveal blue skies with high wispy clouds, the air already warm. The hedgerow along the lane buzzes with insects, and I spot Michael sitting out in the front garden of his cottage as I approach. His white hair is as abundant as ever, but he looks frailer than he did a few months ago, and his face is bordering on gaunt. I raise a tentative hand in greeting.