by Kate Forster
Tressa’s headaches were lessened now and her arm wasn’t aching as much as it had when she had first come out of surgery. She barely needed the pain tablets. Yes, it was time to go home.
She knew her parents would want to drive her home but she didn’t want to go through the pageantry of her mother helping her, offering to escort her. Wendy had become more helpful – but still she never did anything without expecting a parade at the end.
And since the argument at Mermaid Terrace, and the accident, Wendy and Tressa were still tiptoeing around each other. Tressa hated herself for having been so nasty, and wished she had been more mature. But also she wished her mother understood her.
Only Dan understood her, and Caro. She called Caro, who was still in Plymouth.
‘Hello, Tressie.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Oh fine, I mean awful but not worse awful. The nurses seem to have a pill for everything. Being sick, not being sick, constipation, the runs, sore bones, aching feet – it’s remarkable. Now, how are you? How are things with Dan?’
Tressa paused. ‘He’s fine, I think. I haven’t seen him,’ she said. Even if she did see him, what would she say? Sorry for being exactly like everything I hate, like my mother? Please bear with me while I work out how to be a kind, trusting, less defensive person? I don’t know when that will be but stick around and let’s hope for the best?
‘I said some terrible things to him,’ she admitted to Caro.
‘So go home and work it out.’ Caro made it sound so simple.
A text from Janet interrupted her thoughts with pictures of Ginger Pickles and Ivy cosying up on a paisley comforter. Caro was right. And it was time to go home. She tried to work out how to break the news to her parents.
Just then, Dan’s red car pulled up to the front of the house.
‘Shit sticks,’ she said, as Wendy came to her side and looked out the window.
‘Isn’t that nice? He’s come to see you. Now no nasty words please,’ said Wendy.
‘Did you know he was coming over?’ Tressa demanded to know. She wanted this reconnection on her own terms.
‘Yes, I asked him to take you home. I think you’re ready now and if you stay here too long you will become dependent on us.’
Wendy went to open the door for Dan.
Dan walked in and Tressa wished she were wearing something that wasn’t flannel pyjama pants of her father’s and a T-shirt of her mother’s that read This is what 50 & Fabulous Looks Like.
Not that she had ever seen her mother wearing anything remotely like this, which was why it had been offered to her. Always a cast-off for Tressa.
‘You look nice,’ said Dan with a grin and she couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.
‘I do not,’ she said. ‘I look like I’ve given up on life.’
Dan sat opposite her. ‘How’s the arm?’
‘Healing.’
God, he looked good. He had some colour in his face and looked less drawn than when he had arrived in Port Lowdy.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Fine.’ They sat in silence. Tressa was trying to think of something to say, to apologise, to pretend she didn’t remember him, anything.
‘Are you ready to head home?’ he finally asked.
‘Oh sure, I will need to get my things,’ Tressa said but Wendy was in the doorway, swinging a pink Cath Kidston bag.
‘All here, just a few things. Personal items and some hair ties,’ she said. ‘Turn around and I’ll put your hair up.’
Tressa groaned. ‘Leave it, Mum. The only person my hair annoys when it’s down is you.’
Wendy handed the bag to Dan and then kissed Tressa on the cheek.
‘Safe trip, darling, and Dad will call you tonight after work.’
Before Tressa could say a word, Wendy almost pushed her and Dan out the door and shut it behind them.
She adjusted the sling holding her wounded arm and walked down the steps slowly in the slip-on massage slippers her mother had given her, which had the word ‘Sheraton’ embroidered on the front.
Dan helped her into the car and then leaned over her to put on her seatbelt, like the day she had Ivy the kitten on her lap.
She tried not to breathe in the scent from his skin but failed, taking a gasp of Dan’s force field in the air. ‘You all right?’ He looked at her, concerned, his face so close she could see the flecks in his eyes.
‘Fine,’ she said.
‘It sounded as though you’re gasping for air. Are you in pain?’
‘No,’ snapped Tressa and Dan ran around the front of the car and jumped into the driver’s side.
‘I would like us to start again,’ he said. ‘I’m Dan Byrne, angriest man in Ireland and most awful man in Cornwall.’ He put out his hand.
Tressa looked at him and saw the twinkle in his eye.
She took his hand.
‘I’m Tressa Buckland. A painter who likes to jump to conclusions when not jumping in front of cars.’
‘Oh, this is perfect then. We’re going to get along just fine.’ He turned the car around and drove towards home.
40
Dan wasn’t sure what to think when Wendy called him and asked him to pick Tressa up and take her back to Mermaid Cottage.
‘She barely remembers me,’ he said, but Wendy scoffed.
‘Tressa is my daughter so I can say this about her; she creates drama sometimes, so just ignore it and look after her for us. She wants to be home and she’s moping around here like an egg with no yolk.’
Dan wasn’t sure what that meant. He missed Tressa so much his heart ached. He had even been to the local doctor, who told him he was as fit as a fiddle and to get some sun. So Dan had walked Richie every day to the seaside and sat on the beach after lunch.
During the two weeks Tressa had been away, he’d pulled the next edition of the paper together by himself and he had taken the photos. They weren’t as good as Tressa’s pictures, but they would do.
He went to the Easter Bonnet Parade run by St Cuthbert’s and had interviewed the winner, Mrs Duncleaver, who had been working on her hat’s ‘concept’ for six months. It was a top hat made of chocolate with a white chocolate rabbit bursting through the top, complete with a pink satin ribbon and tiny sugar iced eggs around the brim.
He had to photograph this creation rather swiftly. There had been a delay in the running of the parade, due to the vicar being caught up in judging the jam competition. Naturally Rosemary March won with her passionfruit butter but by the time the vicar arrived back, Mrs Duncleaver’s hat had started to melt onto her forehead. Dan took a few quick photos of its good side and then some of the other hats. Everyone around him was asking about Tressa.
He said the same thing over and over, that she was all right. She’d had surgery. She was staying with her parents until she felt up to being back in Port Lowdy.
He went to the Easter egg hunt, where he took photos of little Primmy Stanhope sitting on a chamomile lawn, her fat fist hanging on to a little basket with eggs inside.
There were so many events, he was rushing from one to another, recording interviews onto his phone, so he could write up the stories later.
Then he was down to the crab-catching competition at the harbour and onto the naming ceremony for the new fishing boat. They named it the Lady Caro, at which everyone clapped when the captain smashed a bottle of Cornish Knocker ale against the bow.
And everywhere he went, people wished him Pask Lowen. He finally worked out this meant Happy Easter in Cornish when the eighth person had passed him and smiled as they said it; so he returned the phrase, feeling happy to be a part of something.
That Easter Sunday he dined at the pub with Remi, Juliet, Marcel, and Pamela, as well as a young fellow called Melon. What a name! Dan asked him about it. Turned out the young skivvy was called Marlon but Marcel had mispronounced his name and it stuck.
He watched Remi and Juliet, feeling sad they had missed so much time toget
her, but noticing how they never stopped touching. Remi had changed. He looked five years younger, and Juliet was everything Remi had said she was. Beautiful, kind, engaging, and clever. She was living in London, working for a large fashion brand and living with some work friends.
But she and Remi talked about her coming down every other weekend, and him going to see her. There wasn’t even a moment of doubt they would make it work.
Now with Tressa sitting next to him in the car, he wondered if they would be as determined.
He didn’t want to rush her. Tressa stared out the window, and he knew her well enough to know she was stewing about something.
‘Are you shitty your mam kicked you out?’
‘It would have been nice to have discussed it but she probably needs to get back to her Zumba and her wine club. Anyway I had already decided to leave when you turned up.’
‘That’s lucky then that I arrived when I did,’ he said with a smile and a quick glance at her.
They drove in silence for a while.
‘I’m sorry about Richie,’ he said. ‘Did I tell you about the time he chased the gulls and Remi called him in for me? He seems to have an abnormal attraction to them.’
‘Remi or Richie?’ she asked and he laughed.
‘Remi’s Juliet came to find him,’ he said.
Tressa bounced out of her dull mood and twisted towards him. ‘Really? That’s amazing! Is she amazing? Are they amazing together?’
Dan laughed. ‘They are amazingly amazing.’
Tressa gave a big sigh. ‘That makes me so happy. Amazingly happy, in fact.’
Dan felt pleased to bring her such good news. ‘Also Penny’s Paul came from Australia. They have been spending time together.’
‘So much love in Port Lowdy – it’s finally living up to its name,’ Tressa said.
‘What does Lowdy mean? Is it a word? I always thought it was just a name.’
They turned onto the coastal road that would take them all the way home to Port Lowdy and Tressa pushed the button for the window to go down. She put her head out the window like Richie the dog, her hair flying back in a mess of black curls.
‘I missed the smell of the sea,’ she said. ‘Mum’s house smells like potpourri and disappointment in me.’
Dan roared laughter. ‘You are terrible. Now tell me about Port Lowdy.’
Tressa wound the window up a little, and then turned to him.
‘Lowdy – it means Love Day.’
‘That sounds nice, but what is it?’ he asked.
‘A love day is a single day during medieval times, where any argument could be resolved outside a court and decided by an arbiter or arbitration committee. It could resolve anything at all, unlike the court, but the whole time the two parties were presenting their arguments, they had to hold hands.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, and the reference to “day” meant they had a day to sort their argument out. And at the end they had to remember they were bound by the bonds of love to resolve their arguments and then they had to seal their pact with a kiss.’
‘Oh, how I wish they had a Love Day in Dublin. I would still have my flat, and a kiss for my troubles.’
‘But the Love Day has to be witnessed by the people in the court, or village, and they have to add their blessing. It’s like a marriage, I guess. So Port Lowdy was the place for these disputes to be resolved and that’s where it got its name.’
‘That’s the loveliest story I have heard in a long time,’ he said, and Tressa smiled at him.
‘Just another reason why I love Port Lowdy.’
And another reason why I love you so much, thought Dan as they drove into Port Love Day.
41
Juliet yelled at Remi across the beach. She was standing knee-deep in the water. ‘You said you would walk to the other side of the world for me. But the water is too cold? Une poule mouillée.’
Remi took up her challenge and strode into the water, shoes and all. When he reached her he kissed her and she melted into his arms.
They had spent the morning in bed, and then emerged for lunch. The first time it had been rushed and fast. He was clumsy. He felt like a virgin again. He apologised into her shoulder but she kissed his neck and held him until they moved together again. This time it was what he thought it would be, but better. And then the third time, he thought he would die of pleasure and love.
They had spent a few days together but she would be heading back this afternoon and he already missed her. Still, they had a plan, and it felt like something to hang on to.
He had to stay in Port Lowdy for a year before he could move on, and he wanted to be in London with Juliet.
‘It will be like reconnecting over and over again,’ she had said when he worried it would be too much for her.
Now she walked up the beach towards him, her dress tied up around her thighs. He wanted her again and as she came close to him, he saw she wanted him too.
‘Let’s go back to bed,’ she said as she kissed his mouth and he pulled her close.
‘Juliet Lassez, marry me.’
‘But of course,’ she said, as though he had asked to borrow her pen.
‘You aren’t surprised?’ He shook his head at her.
The sun was shining on her dark hair and she lifted up her red-framed sunglasses and smiled, showing the gapped teeth he loved so much.
‘It has been a seven-year engagement, Remi; of course we will be married. That’s that.’
‘That’s that,’ he repeated.
They held hands on their walk back to the Black Swan and Remi wondered if people passing took them for tourists. He felt like a tourist in a new world. One he never thought he would visit – but now he was living in it. Juliet stopped to gaze into the window of a shop that sold candles and oils and handmade gifts.
‘These are pretty,’ she said.
‘Which one do you want? I will buy it for you,’ he said, his hand on the door of the shop.
Juliet pulled him away. ‘I don’t need anything. I was just saying they’re pretty.’
‘I want to buy you everything,’ he said, and it was true. ‘I can’t afford an engagement ring yet though. I will save.’
She put her hand back in his and they walked up the hill until they reached the top at the pub and could look down across the bay. The sun sparkled on the water and the bunting left over from Easter swayed in the breeze across the cobbled streets down to the esplanade.
‘I don’t want a ring, Remi. I just want you.’
‘Juliet!’
‘I missed you every day,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I would drive to the prison and sit out the front in my car and try and tell you I loved you, to hold on, to wait for this moment. I have been saving money, working for us. You saved my life and now it’s my turn to help you build a life. I want to be with you every moment of the future.’
Remi closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again quickly. He needed to see if he was dreaming but no, she was still by his side. There was Dan walking his dog; there was the old man who tried to get into the bar most days for a drink, whom Pamela set up with a ginger ale in the garden, an umbrella in it as though it were a cocktail. There was the lady from the post office who Pamela said was a famous crab. Or something.
‘We can marry here,’ she said.
‘But your family?’
‘They can come if they’re nice,’ she said and Remi wondered if perhaps they hadn’t wanted her to wait for him. He doubted anyone had ever won an argument with Juliet once she had made her mind up.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘That is a very good idea.’
‘I know,’ she said, and she leaned up and kissed him. ‘I love you, Remi Durand.’
‘Let’s start our life together in Port Lowdy and see where it takes us.’
42
Penny straightened up the postcards of Port Lowdy and rearranged the jams by the front door, putting Rosemary’s winning passionfruit butter at the front, its gold s
ticker displayed proudly on the jars.
Actually Penny herself had put the stickers on. It was just a round one from a pack of fifty that she had in the shop. She liked Rosemary and thought she deserved a sticker, not just for her jams but for her friendship.
Paul had gone back to Brisbane and Penny couldn’t stop thinking about him. Sometimes she wondered if she had done the wrong thing by not going with him. And other times she had a terrible urge to tell him that she loved him. But it was too late now, she told herself.
Paul had left the next day after Tressa’s accident and she had said goodbye to him in a stiff and formal way. She hadn’t returned his hug the way he hugged her. She hadn’t been with a man since Paul all those years before and his arms around her felt almost foreign. She felt disconnected from him in a way that made her sad. She realised she had so much anger and pain, for all those years alone, that she wasn’t sure where to put it all. But now – she regretted it. Petty Stanhope, she thought her new name should be.
Tegan had told her she would be heading to Brisbane next month to meet her half siblings. Penny felt betrayed by her daughter but couldn’t bring herself to admit she had made a mistake.
The young Frenchman Dan wrote about walked into the post office carrying a bag. Penny didn’t associate with criminals as a rule, but she had read the article on him and had even cried a little for his loss.
‘Bonjour,’ she said, trying to let him know she didn’t judge him for what happened.
‘Hello,’ he said and his shyness made her like him even more.
‘It’s not easy being in the papers, is it? I know because of the article Dan wrote about me. Once you’re in the public eye, everything changes,’ she said knowingly.
Remi looked confused.
‘I didn’t see your article,’ he admitted.
Penny stepped behind the counter and pulled a copy out from under the bench and handed it to him.
‘That’s me,’ she said pointing to the photo of her as Miss Crab and then the photo of Tegan and Primmy.
‘I fell in love and had my daughter… but the man and I were separated, sadly.’ She did feel sad as she spoke. The whole thing was sad and the thing was – although she was trying – she couldn’t forgive her father for being so selfish, just to keep her to himself.