by Kate Forster
She remembered her hand in his and wished he would hold it again as they walked along the path and up the stairs to the cliffs.
Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket so she didn’t feel tempted to hold his hand, she saw him do the same.
Gosh, being in love was awful, she thought, if this was love. It definitely felt like love. All she wanted to do was touch him. It made her almost angry as they strolled along the cliff, Richie barking at seagulls and Dan stopping periodically to peer over the edge or gaze ahead, looking for France.
‘You okay? You’re quiet,’ asked Dan as they turned to walk back to the house.
‘Fine, just thinking,’ she said.
‘About?’
‘None of your business,’ she said half-jokingly.
‘Is it about me?’ he teased her and nudged her shoulder with his.
‘No, Captain Narcissist, it’s not about you,’ she lied.
‘Why not? I was thinking about you,’ he said and she pushed his shoulder with hers in return.
‘You’re a liar,’ she said and Dan stopped to face her.
‘I think about you a lot, Tressa.’
‘About how I am wasting my life by living here and not showing anyone my art?’ She was teasing.
Dan looked out at the view of the village below. ‘I don’t know, it’s pretty special. I think I get why you stay here. It’s almost made up in some ways. Magical as though it’s been bypassed by the rest of the world.’
‘We have Wi-Fi, you know? And you can get a takeaway coffee at the cafe that isn’t complete rubbish.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘it’s almost as though you never have to leave. Speaking of, I’m staying at yours tonight, don’t forget.’
Tressa felt her stomach flip. She looked down at her feet on the dusty path.
‘I haven’t forgotten,’ she said. Not even for a moment, she thought. Dan in her house for a night. How long had it been since she had a lover? It seemed too long ago. Not that Dan was her lover but a girl could dream couldn’t she?
24
Penny had already set up chats with Marcel and Pamela at the pub, and Rosemary March would walk along the esplanade and pretend to bump into Penny and chat about having known each other all their lives.
‘Is there anyone younger?’ asked the producer woman with a clipboard and an earpiece constantly in place.
Penny thought. ‘There’s Tressa,’ she said, ‘she’s an artist.’
‘That sounds great – let’s go and interview her.’
Penny, a cameraman, the interviewer, and the lady with the clipboard walked down through the village, stopping and chatting to the people she had organised to speak to. They talked about the village and a little about Penny’s story. They waved at people on the pier and they filmed Penny with bare feet walking in the sea foam, while she tried to not grimace at how cold it was. For someone who’d once been crowned Miss Crab, she didn’t really have an affinity with the ocean.
As she put her shoes back on up on the pathway, Tressa and Dan were approaching, with Richie the dog ambling beside them.
‘Hello,’ she called out and waved them over.
‘Hi,’ said Tressa, looking curiously at the people around Penny.
‘This is Tressa,’ Penny said.
The man with the camera was circling them, and the interviewer stepped in. ‘Penny says you’re an artist, and you live in Port Lowdy. What is it like for a young person to live here?’
Richie jumped over the wall and started to chase seagulls and Dan whistled at him and called out his name.
The interviewer turned to him, the camera following. ‘And aren’t you Dan Byrne? The columnist? I remember when I interviewed someone you wrote about. They didn’t like you very much. What’re you doing here?’
Penny glanced at the interviewer. She had just told him about Dan and now it seemed he was goading him. ‘I told you, he’s running The Port Lowdy Occurrence for us, as the owner’s wife is taken poorly.’
‘Bit of a step down from opinions in world news and Irish politics. Have you retired early?’ The interviewer had a tone in his voice that Penny didn’t like and from the look on his face nor did Dan.
‘No,’ he said, ‘just taking some time out.’
‘Is that why you wrote the story on Penny but then put it under your girlfriend’s name? From corruption to crabs, the illustrious career of Dan Byrne. Never thought you’d move somewhere like here, eh?’
Penny watched Dan’s jaw twitch. He crossed his arms. Tressa was scraping the ground with her foot, making a dragging sound that felt like the discomfort this conversation was causing.
‘She’s not my girlfriend, and I’m not staying, I’ll be returning to the news when I have finished here. It’s just a stop on the way, not the final destination. I’m thinking of moving to New York actually.’
‘New York – ambitious,’ said the man and he turned to Tressa. She had folded her arms across her chest as though shielding herself from a non-existent cold wind. What was going on between them all? Penny wondered. It seemed so tense and awkward.
Dan stalked away, and the reporter looked at Tressa.
‘So what keeps a beauty like you in a place like this?’ he asked smoothly.
‘I live here,’ said Tressa.
‘I hope you don’t think Dan Byrne will stay here. I’ve seen him break hearts from Clonakilty to Donegal. He went out with a friend of my sister’s and he strung her along for a story and then dumped her just as she was ready to give him the keys to her house and car. He’s a real shite. Would sell his grandmother for a good story.’
Without a word Tressa turned and walked away from them, while Penny wondered what had just happened and if she had missed a memo on what the real story was about.
25
Dan called after Tressa but Richie was still running around the beach, desperately trying to catch a seagull.
‘Dammit, Richie, come here,’ he bellowed. Penny and that awful prick of a reporter had walked up the hill and Tressa was no longer in sight.
A whistle rang out and Richie stopped in his tracks. Dan turned to see Remi on the wall of the beach.
‘You have to teach me how to do that,’ he said as Richie came running up to Remi.
Remi smiled and lit a cigarette. ‘It’s easy enough,’ he said and stared into the distance.
Dan looked at Remi and then back towards Tressa’s house. That reporter had irked him. He didn’t want the news industry to think he had stayed in Port Lowdy because no one else wanted to work with him.
Remi had a story. Tressa knew it, and said it was tragic. Perhaps there was an injustice there? He could write about it and get back into the big papers. That could be his thing: correcting the injustices of the world one person at a time.
‘How’s the job?’ asked Dan. ‘Marcel seemed like a good fella.’
‘He is nice, so is Pam, very kind.’
Dan paused. ‘If you want to talk to me about it, I might be able to help. Or at least listen. I’m a pretty good listener. That’s what makes my ears so big.’ He waggled them at Remi who smiled a little.
‘I hurt someone. I went to prison.’
‘Okay,’ said Dan slowly.
Remi took a breath and then spoke again. ‘I never meant to kill him. Tressa said she understood. It was an accident but no one believed a young kid from the worst part of Paris whose dad sold drugs. I didn’t stand a chance. I only pushed him because he had Juliet against a wall, but he hit his head as he fell. That’s how he died. They said I meant to push him to kill him, but how can you do that? I didn’t know the angle he would fall, I just wanted him to get away from Juliet.’ Remi spoke in a rush and Dan listened carefully. It was almost as though all of Remi’s thoughts fell out of his mouth at once.
‘Oh, Remi, it’s terrible, truly,’ he said and he thought for a moment. ‘Where is Juliet now? Did she speak to you after the court case?’
‘She used to try and see me in prison but I d
idn’t want to have a girlfriend who had to wait for me, and so I wrote her a letter after two years and I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore. It would have been a waste of her life to wait for me. She doesn’t know where I am now. I hope she is happily married with a baby and a man who doesn’t have a past.’
‘Everyone has a past,’ Dan said. ‘Even angels.’
‘Juliet was my angel,’ said Remi and he looked at Dan. ‘Don’t tell anyone. You promise? I don’t want people here to judge me.’
‘No, mate, never,’ said Dan. ‘I have so many secrets that belong to others. I wouldn’t tell anyone ever.’
They watched the water for a while.
‘I’m here anytime, Remi, please know that.’
Remi nodded and then walked away towards the pier and Dan went slowly back to Tressa’s. He felt like he had stepped into a gift of a story but if he wrote it he would be betraying Tressa and Remi both and he just wasn’t sure if he could do it.
*
Tressa’s front door was open with a piece of paper stuck to the mantelpiece.
Upstairs painting. You can have the sofa. Blankets in cupboard under stairs. Make your own dinner or order from the pub. I’m not eating. Don’t disturb me.
Dan read the note and then screwed it up into a ball and threw it from where he stood, towards the sink, but it bounced off the edge and onto the floor.
Tressa had been so friendly with him on the cliff and now she didn’t want to hear from him. He understood she was working but there was a tone in the note that wasn’t familiar.
He ran over what he’d said from the cliffs to meeting Penny and the reporter. What would Tressa care if he went to New York? She wasn’t interested in him, was she?
He settled Richie in his bed and walked upstairs. He stood outside her studio and softly knocked on the door.
‘Tressa, have I upset you?’
‘Go away. I’m working.’
‘Was it because I said I wasn’t staying, that I was thinking about New York?’
‘I don’t care where you stay or go. New York sounds like your style,’ he heard through the door, and he realised she was standing on the other side, close to him.
‘You could just open the door,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to.’
He smiled at the petulance in her voice.
‘Tressie, please,’ he said and then the door flew open.
‘Don’t call me Tressie. Only people who love me call me Tressie. You haven’t earned the right to call me that.’ She was yelling but he saw tears in her eyes.
‘Jesus, what have I done? Why are you so angry with me?’ He had stepped back from her so he was backed against the wall.
‘You’re so ignorant and unaware, Dan. You have no idea what you say and how it affects people.’
‘What did I say?’
Tressa shook her head and slammed the door in his face. ‘Go away.’
Dan opened the door, and saw her leaning against the windowsill. The window was open and the sea breeze floated in to meet him.
‘Is it because of New York?’ he pushed again.
‘It’s because of everything,’ she said, and burst into tears. ‘You can’t let my parents think we’re together and then say we aren’t to the Mr Fancies Himself telly man. You don’t get to say what we are to anyone. And stop using me as a pawn in your mind games.’
‘Oh God, don’t cry,’ he said. He moved to her and tried to put his arm around her. ‘I’m an eejit sometimes, probably all the time. I was wrong to say that – I see that now. How can I fix this?’
Tressa wept. Then she looked up at him. ‘You’re going to leave and I like you. I like you a lot and you think my world is small and silly and I am just a stupid, anxious girl who can’t say boo to anyone, especially my parents. You think I’m just wasting my life in Port Lowdy. And I get why you would leave. Who would want to stay here when you’re you? I mean you’re right. I am wasting my life here, hiding from the world.’
She took a breath and Dan started to speak but she continued.
‘I would never have seen that gallery if it wasn’t for you, and then you stood up to my parents and took me out of that house that I hate so much, and now you tell me you are going to go, which is your right – you don’t need to stay here. It’s not for you but I like you and I’m upset that I thought you would stay. I don’t know why.’
Dan crossed his arms. ‘You could have done those things for yourself. You didn’t need me to do them.’
Tressa shook her head, and he held back a desire to move the curls away so he could see her face.
But she was right: he wasn’t going to stay in Port Lowdy. He wanted to be back writing about things that mattered, things that changed lives.
‘I like you too, Tressa,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I like you a lot but I won’t stay here. It’s not the life I can see for myself.’
They stood in silence for a while.
‘Do you want me to leave?’ he asked. ‘I understand if you do.’
‘No, I don’t,’ she said and she put her hand out and took his. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’
Dan couldn’t help it, he leaned over and kissed her. A slow, soft kiss, and he could taste the salt of her tears as she leaned into him.
Her mouth felt like home and with the smell of the paints and the sound and scent of the sea outside, the gulls celebrating their connection, he wondered why he thought he could leave.
He pulled Tressa upright from leaning on the sill and her arms went around his neck, her face nestled in his neck.
‘You do know I am falling in love with you,’ he stated bravely. ‘And I have never been in love before, so I am clearly rubbish at it, with my stupid words and stupid ideas.’
Tressa kissed his neck and he felt a shiver of pleasure run down his body.
‘You are terrible at it but so am I.’
She kissed his mouth as he pulled her so close to him, she was standing between his knees and she leaned against him.
God, he wanted her but he would wait. She didn’t seem like she wanted to rush things.
As though reading his mind, she stepped back and held his hand and looked at him for a long time.
He smiled at her.
‘Well, are you taking me to bed or what?’ she asked and he laughed, never happier to be wrong.
‘But I said I can’t stay here,’ he said meeting her gaze.
‘At my house? For the night?’
‘I mean in Port Lowdy. Do you want to pursue something when we don’t know how it will end?’
‘How does anything end?’ She shrugged. ‘I’m just tired of being afraid.’
He loved her – he did – but could he love Port Lowdy? Could she travel with him? How could it work? Her kiss hushed his worries and he stood up, kissing her in return as he took her hand and led her from the room.
‘You are a mystery, Tressa Buckland, and I can’t wait to uncover you,’ and he took her to bed.
*
Dan ran his fingers up and down Tressa’s arm as they lay together in her bed.
‘Tell me about your sister.’
He felt her body tense. ‘What?’
‘You mentioned her when we first spoke on the phone. You said you were the third. Mentioned you had a sister.’
They lay in silence.
‘You don’t have to,’ Dan said after a while. He didn’t want to scare her away but he was genuinely curious. He wanted to know everything about her and more. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.’
Tressa was quiet and he closed his eyes.
‘Cancer,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘A brain tumour.’
‘That’s shite. I’m so sorry.’
And he was sorry, because no child should die or have a brain tumour. He couldn’t fathom the pain her parents must have felt.
‘Then you must be a gift to them,’ he said.
Tressa laughed, almost meanly, he thought.
‘I t
hink they thought they were getting my sister back but instead they got me. I wasn’t what they thought they were getting and my parents, well, we aren’t close.’
Dan kept tracing patterns on her arm with his finger. ‘I understand that. Sometimes people expect children to heal something inside them – a broken marriage, a broken heart, even a broken soul.’
‘How did you know that?’ She leaned up onto her elbows, her curls falling over her face.
He moved them out of the way so he could see her beauty.
‘Know what?’ he asked.
‘That I was supposed to heal them, fix the pain after Rosewyn died.’
Dan sighed. ‘I’ve seen it myself. I was in and out of foster homes. They either wanted me for the extra benefits or they thought they could fix me with God and punishment.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tressa said and he knew she meant it.
‘It’s fine. I mean, I’m fine now. I had one good one. You know they say that’s all a kid needs. One functioning adult who can show you what it is to be normal, to be a role model. I had that and more with Maureen. She kept me on the straight and narrow. Curbed my anger and resentment to a point I could make a career out it, for a while.’
Tressa lay down again. ‘I think Caro was mine. She encouraged me to use my imagination when my mother told me I was daydreaming and wasting my time with art. Caro told me to paint what I saw when I closed my eyes.’
‘She sounds terrific.’ Dan kissed the top of her head. ‘I love your curls,’ he said.
‘Why, thank you,’ she said and he heard her voice soften. He moved so they were facing each other.
‘I used to hate them. I have learned to love them, along with no sugar in my coffee and a cold shower for ten seconds every morning.’
Dan laughed. ‘Remind me not to have a shower with you.’
‘It’s only ten seconds. It reminds your immune system to turn on. Mum made us do it as kids. I think she worried we would get cancer, so she would shower me for ten seconds in cold water and then turn it hot. It was supposed to teach my body that I can withstand something difficult and that I will get warm again.’