by Kate Forster
‘Yes, yes. Of course, keep us informed,’ George said.
Wendy called to tell him where to park but really she wanted to talk about Tressa.
‘Was she upset when she left the house? How did the dog pull her off her bike? Which arm is broken?’
He couldn’t answer any of her questions because he hadn’t been there. He’d failed Wendy and he had failed Tressa.
Remi drove fast, within the speed limit, but they didn’t catch up to the ambulance and Dan felt sick as they drove. He wanted to tell his friend to drive faster, much faster, overtake the other cars; he wanted to scream at them to get out of the way.
Finally they arrived and Remi pulled up at the entrance. Dan jumped from the car and ran inside. He found Accident and Emergency and saw Wendy sitting in the waiting room and David pacing. Dan ignored them and went straight to the desk.
‘Tressa Buckland, how is she?’
The nurse looked up at him. ‘Tressa is being seen by the doctors now. Who are you?’
He paused. Who was he to Tressa? ‘I’m her boyfriend,’ he said, feeling stupid using a teenage word. ‘I’m her partner,’ he corrected himself. He could feel bravado in his tone. She would think he was lying.
‘The doctors will let you know how she is as soon as they can,’ was all the nurse said, and she answered a phone call.
Dan felt his temper rising and he went and sat next to Wendy.
‘Were you with her?’ Wendy asked, not looking at him.
‘No, I wasn’t. I arrived just after she was taken by the ambulance.’
Wendy said nothing but the judgement and blame from her flowed over him like hot tar.
Dan watched people coming and going, nurses and doctors calling people’s names but no one called him or Tressa’s parents.
‘One of the paramedics said a dog had pulled her off her bicycle and she then went over the handlebars and onto the bonnet of a car.’ Again Wendy spoke while staring straight ahead.
Dan bit his lip, thinking of many, many things he could say. ‘Yes, that was Richie. Tressa was looking after him for me.’
‘Because you resigned?’
Before he could answer, a doctor walked through the double doors and called out for the family of Buckland. Wendy jumped up and David pushed forward to the doctor’s side. Dan sat, unsure if he was included or not. Wendy walked through the door and then looked at Dan.
‘Are you coming?’ she asked and Dan rushed in behind them.
A nurse walked them through the emergency department and stopped outside a room with a glass sliding door. The curtain behind it was drawn.
‘Tressa suffered a significant arm fracture. She will need surgery,’ the doctor said and Dan closed his eyes, knowing what that would do to Tressa and her painting.
‘But she has suffered some bad bruising to the brain. We have done an MRI and there were contusions, which will clear… but she may be confused and suffer some headaches and tiredness for a while. She may not be safe to leave alone for a few weeks and she will need to be watched.’
The doctor opened the door to the room and pulled back the curtain. Tressa lay on the bed, an oxygen mask fitted to her face, her arm in a splint, and her eyes closed.
Dan let Wendy and David be with Tressa first, while he stood outside the room, watching them. Wendy moved Tressa’s hair away from her cheeks and tucked it behind her ears, adjusting the mask oxygen mask so it sat straight.
David picked up the chart at the end of the bed, seemingly immersed in the information and then checking the monitor reporting her blood pressure and oxygen levels.
Wendy fiddled nervously with the blanket over Tressa’s legs, smoothing out every wrinkle, and then tucked it under her feet. Neither of them spoke to her.
David looked up from the chart. ‘Everything looks in order. No concerns from me.’ But his voice betrayed him and Dan knew he was petrified.
Dan walked into the room and to the clear side of the bed and kissed her forehead.
‘Darling Tressie, it’s Dan. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about Richie. He and I will have words later but right now I’m here for you.’
Tressa blinked a few times. She opened her eyes and looked at Dan and then looked at Wendy.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked her mother and Dan felt his heart sink.
‘It’s Dan, Tressa, he came up to see you. He’s been worried.’
Dan was grateful she was being kind but Tressa looked at him and shook her head.
‘Oh, Dan,’ she said sounding disappointed, and closed her eyes again.
Dan stepped back from the side of the bed while Wendy leaned over her daughter.
‘Dan called us to tell us about what happened.’
‘I should go,’ said Dan. ‘She doesn’t want me here. I am glad you’re here though. She needs her family.
‘You can stay,’ said Wendy but Dan shook his head.
‘No, it’s all right. I should go and get Richie from Penny anyway.’ He stepped forward and looked at Tressa, whose eyes were closed.
‘I hope you feel better soon,’ he said, feeling stupid at the formality but also embarrassed.
‘I’ll call you,’ said Wendy. ‘After the operation.’
Tressa opened her eyes and looked at her mother. ‘An operation? On what?’
Wendy didn’t answer her, instead she patted Tressa’s arm.
‘Shhh, Tressa, I’m talking to Dan.’
Tressa closed her eyes and then opened them just as quickly and sat up in bed. ‘You.’ She pointed at him.
‘Me?’ he said, pointing at his chest.
‘You broke my heart.’
‘Oh, Tressie,’ he said, feeling like he might cry.
‘He likes Lionel Richie,’ she said to Wendy.
‘Oh, I love Lionel Richie,’ said Wendy. ‘Dancing on the ceiling,’ she said and did a little dance. Even in these moments, she was awkward.
‘I do,’ he said, to Tressa. ‘I love him, actually.’ But then the nurse pushed in behind him and began checking the numbers on the monitors.
‘Okay,’ Tressa said, and she lay down again on the bed.
The nurse looked at them all. ‘We have to take Tressa to the theatre now, so give her a kiss.’
Wendy leaned down and kissed Tressa’s forehead in a surprisingly tender way, smoothing back her hair and leaning against her for a time.
‘Come on, Wends,’ said David and he leaned over and kissed his daughter’s cheek. ‘See you when you come out, Tressie,’ he said casually, but Dan heard his voice break a little and he was gazing down at the floor.
The nurse unplugged a few cables attached to Tressa and put her monitor on the foot of the bed. A porter came in and kicked up the brakes.
‘And now we’re off,’ he said to Tressa, who didn’t open her eyes as the bed started to move. Dan stepped back to let the nurse and the porter push the bed through the doorway but as Tressa passed, she opened her eyes and put out her unbroken hand towards him.
He took her hand and she looked right at him. ‘I know you didn’t steal the money,’ she said. ‘And I’m sorry I was so awful.’
‘I know,’ he answered, ‘and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the story.’
Tressa smiled, and he let go of her hand as she was wheeled away with Wendy and David following her.
What if he could fix this? he wondered. Maybe time would help, maybe if he did everything he could to make her life better in Port Lowdy and get the paper out and take care of Ginger Pickles and Mermaid Terrace then she might forgive him.
It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had and it gave him hope, which was enough for now.
38
Port Lowdy was in a tizz. With news of Tressa’s accident and then the article on Remi coming out in The Guardian, there was quite a lot of chat at the post office, in the bar at the Black Swan, on the corner near the bakery, and on the pier amongst the boats. A video of Remi being interviewed by Dan was front page of The Guardian’s website. Vil
lagers looked at him in a new way now that he’d revealed everything online, but Remi didn’t care. He felt free with people knowing what happened to him, and what he did, and that he’d served his time. Perhaps he might have given some hope to other people leaving prison, perhaps his story would make those in the legal system in France fight harder for fairer sentences.
Marcel and Pamela had been supportive of the story when he told them he had asked Dan to write it and even when people came into the restaurant to ask about Remi, they protected him and said he was hard at work in the kitchen, which he was. They had never been busier.
Port Lowdy was having its moment and Remi was enjoying himself. He had been talking to Marcel about looking for another job, perhaps in London, once his parole period was over and Marcel promised to introduce him to a few people he knew, when he was ready.
People spoke to him in the street. Rosemary March gave him a few jars of her new rose petal jam and lavender jelly, which was a deadly shade of purple but tasted better than it looked.
On Easter Sunday, he was in the kitchen. The restaurant was booked out and he and Marcel worked quickly and without conversation other than about the food.
Melon was humming along to what sounded like Broadway showtunes on his headphones and Remi was carving pork belly when Pamela put her head through the pass.
‘Remi, there’s someone to see you,’ she called.
‘He can’t go now – he’s with the pork belly,’ Marcel said, but Pamela shook her head.
‘No, Remi, you need to come now.’
Remi put down the knife and wiped his hands on his apron. He walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room… and there she stood. Juliet.
‘Hello,’ she said and he felt his stomach flip. She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps more so, the way women who aren’t afraid to grow into themselves are. Her hair was shorter but chic, her face was smiling, and her eyes looked older but wiser, as though she had seen more than she’d expected in life so far. He knew that feeling.
He couldn’t speak. He nodded at her.
This whole time he had dreamed of this moment but he assumed she would be in France. He had believed he would never see her again.
He tried to find words but nothing would suffice.
‘I saw the article,’ she said.
‘Okay,’ Remi answered. Pamela walked past behind him carrying two plates of pork belly. ‘Are you here for a while? I can see you after I finish work?’
He sent a prayer up to a God he didn’t believe in to make Juliet stay for a while.
To his relief, she smiled. ‘I will wait for you,’ she said. ‘What’s another few hours?’
Remi felt his heart leap and his eyes stung with tears.
‘Go finish your shift. I will sit here and drink some wine and eat some delicious food and think about all the things we have to talk about.’
Remi stood still, unsure of what to do next, until Juliet showed him – she walked to him and hugged him. His arms wrapped around her and she leaned into his chest.
‘You saved me,’ she said, pulling away and looking up at him.
He gazed down into her so familiar long-ago eyes. Had he saved her? Yes, he had, there was no doubt about that but it was what any man would have done.
‘I am glad you’re okay,’ he said. His arms were still around her and she hugged him again, tightly, and kissed his cheek.
God, she smelled incredible. He sighed.
He didn’t know why she was here, other than to say thank you. He reminded himself seven years was a long time in her life. She might be engaged or married. She could have children.
‘I will come back,’ he said and she reached out and took his hand.
‘I’ll be here,’ she said.
Remi rushed back to the kitchen, where Marcel looked at him and narrowed his eyes.
‘Who is that? Your Juliet?’
Remi nodded. He was trembling. He tried to read the new orders coming in, clipped on the pass.
‘Then what are you doing here?’ said Marcel.
‘I have to finish,’ said Remi.
‘I can manage, said Marcel gruffly and he flapped a tea towel at him. ‘Allez, allez.’
Remi undid his apron and hung it up on the hook.
He walked out to the restaurant and watched Juliet for a moment. She was sipping her wine and eating some of the parmesan chips he had made earlier in the day.
As though she could feel him looking at her, she turned and smiled at him and he died a little inside. He still loved her; he had always loved her. He was going to have his heart broken again and there was nothing he could do about it.
He sat on a bar stool next to her.
‘Want a drink?’ she asked.
He shook his head no. He didn’t need anything to dull his memory of this moment. It would be replayed in his mind for years to come after she had gone. This was her closure but he didn’t need closure. Juliet would never be someone he could close his mental door to; he would always leave it open to let the memories drift in and out.
She drained her wine and then she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.
At the touch of her lips, he gasped. He could taste the wine and the parmesan and he wanted more of her.
She was standing now and she kissed him more passionately.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, confused.
‘Kissing you.’
‘Why?’ He glanced around the restaurant and noticed a few people looking at them.
‘We should go,’ he said. ‘We should talk.’
‘We should do everything,’ she said and she smiled again.
Remi knew what he wanted. He held her hand and walked her through the kitchen door and then into the back hallway and up the stairs to the guest rooms.
His body was tingling with her hand in his and the taste of her kiss on his mouth.
He found the key in his pocket and opened the door to his room, and he and Juliet walked inside.
She went to kiss him again but he stopped her.
‘Why are you here?’ he asked. ‘It’s been seven years since everything happened.’
Juliet sat on the bed. ‘You wouldn’t let me see you in prison, even though I tried, and you didn’t want my letters. You wrote that one time where you said to forget you but how could I forget you?’
‘You should have,’ said Remi. He sat down next to her on the bed. ‘I am not someone who you would want to be with.’
‘Why?’ Her dark hair was falling over her face and she pushed it away angrily.
‘Because I have been in prison,’ he said. ‘Because I can’t go back to France, because I am just a cook.’
Juliet frowned. ‘I loved you before you protected me. I loved you when we talked at work every day, every minute we could. I loved the way you made me feel and laugh and the way you looked out for me. I had already decided you were the one for me before this happened. I just hadn’t told you yet. So I waited for you.’
Remi started to cry; he couldn’t help himself. Of every single scenario he had imagined, this wasn’t the one he thought would come true. He hadn’t even dreamed this would be how Juliet came into his life again.
Juliet held him as he sobbed.
‘I am so sorry,’ she repeated. ‘I am so sorry.’
When his body stopped heaving with sobs, he lay on the bed, exhausted.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he said as they faced each other on the bed.
‘It felt like my fault. But I couldn’t stop him. I wasn’t strong enough to push him off,’ Juliet said and she started to cry. It was his turn to hold her.
Tenderly, he moved the hair from her face and wiped her tears from her cheeks.
‘Your fingers smell of garlic,’ she said.
‘Sorry,’ he said but she held them to her nose.
‘I like it.’
He closed his eyes while she kissed the back of his hand.
‘I have always loved you, Juliet,’ he tol
d her. Tiredness was sweeping over him. He wasn’t sure if he said it aloud or not. He wasn’t even sure if she was really here. He didn’t want to open his eyes to find out.
39
Tressa sat on her parents’ couch, looking out the window at the road. She missed her sea views and she missed her cat and she missed Dan. Of course, she’d known perfectly well who he was. She just wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt her.
She read the article on Remi again.
It was a wonderful piece of writing, telling Remi’s story factually and without bias so the inescapable truth shone through. There were personal details she hadn’t known about Remi and his life, how he grew up poor, how no one came to see him in prison, how he watched men be beaten and berated until they lost their minds and even their lives, and how he managed to survive, thinking about Juliet.
Not that he expected to see her again, but she was his north star, his étoile polaire.
She wondered if Dan was her north star. She hadn’t heard from him since she had been released from hospital. But then why would she? She had pretended she didn’t even know who he was, though she hadn’t been able to keep up the farce.
Easter had come and gone, and she was worrying about the next edition of The Port Lowdy Occurrence. George told her it was all in hand, then said he was sorry for the ill-thought-out words – since she had broken her arm.
*
Even Caro had been on the phone, sounding tired and weak, but she told Tressa to rest up and take as much time as she need to heal at her parents’ house.
And that was the other thing that was worrying her: being back with her parents. Janet rang to say she had Ginger Pickles and that she was happily teaching Ivy the ways of being a cat.
Meanwhile in St Ives Wendy had replaced everything hanging on the walls in the house with Tressa’s paintings. It felt like an exhibition plonked into a House and Garden magazine article. Somehow it was very disconcerting to be surrounded by her own paintings. She had now been here ten days, and counting. Wendy had rushed Tressa around the house when she was released from hospital, wanting to show her all the paintings, and each time she did she touched the mermaid in it and said, ‘And there’s Rosewyn.’ It was weird but sweet – but mostly weird.