She turned to look up at Bailey.
‘The good psychology student needs to know if it’s okay to kiss the person he’s been wanting to kiss for weeks and weeks but didn’t because the timing might have been all wrong, and …’
‘Oh, shut up, you!’ Mae laughed. ‘And just kiss me.’
‘God, I thought you’d never ask,’ Bailey said as his lips very sweetly brushed Mae’s.
‘Tom?’ Cara said. He’d just come down the stairs and was heading for the front door, a framed painting – painted side towards him – tucked under each arm. ‘Can I have a word?’
‘Ah yes, sorry about the banging earlier,’ he said. He patted the paintings. ‘Framing. I’m not the best at picture framing, but they can’t go in the exhibition unframed. I should have said. So sorry if it disturbed you, and …’
‘It didn’t,’ Cara said. ‘Honestly.’
She was nervous now. She’d had almost a week now to think about what Rosie had said, and she’d come to the conclusion she was more than falling for Tom – she’d fallen hook, line and sinker, and there was a multitude of butterflies dancing a tattoo in her stomach just looking at him. He had a smear of white paint on his left cheek and it was all Cara could do not to reach up and wipe it off for him.
‘So, did you want something?’ Tom said. He seemed to be stuck there now like a rabbit caught in headlights.
‘Um, yes,’ Cara said. ‘I was, um, wondering if, well, now I can … I was wondering if I could buy you dinner tonight? You must be getting fed up with leftovers and well, I fancy something I haven’t had to cook myself. So …’
Crikey, that was harder than she’d expected it would be. A woman never makes the first move was what her mother had always said, although Rosie had told her different.
‘Buy me dinner?’ Tom said. ‘I doubt it would be any better than all the delicious things you’ve been leaving for me while I’ve been beavering away, but …’ Tom jiggled the paintings under his arms.
‘Of course, if it’s not convenient … well, I thought I’d ask, you know, before … well, before the art festival is over.’
‘It hasn’t started yet!’ Tom said. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’ He did a perfect impression of a sad emoji, and Cara laughed.
‘Of course not. Only we haven’t talked about that … you know, the art festival and what’s going to happen when it’s over and when you’re go …’ Cara gulped. She really, really didn’t want to finish the sentence – when you’re going to leave. So she didn’t. ‘I’ve got something to show you,’ she said instead. ‘I’ve been meaning to for ages. The painting my step great-grandfather did of Emma.’
‘Seth Jago?’ Tom said.
‘Yes, him.’
‘A person could have two step great-grandfathers,’ Tom said with a grin. ‘Just checking! But I really, really, really do have to get these down to the hall and then come back for some more before, oh, six o’ clock or something. So …’
‘Forget dinner, then?’ Cara said.
‘No. That’s the best offer I’ve had in a long while and one I’m not going to pass up. Where did you have in mind?’
‘The Beachcomber.’
‘Perfect,’ Tom said. ‘Can I meet you there, say, about half past seven?’
‘Perfect,’ Cara said.
‘I’ll scrub up a bit,’ Tom said. ‘I expect I’ve got blobs of paint everywhere and …’
‘Only on your cheek.’ Cara held out a forefinger towards Tom. ‘Lick,’ she said, ‘and I’ll wipe it off for you.’
Tom licked, long and slow and Cara practically melted with the intimacy of it as she transferred her moist fingertip to Tom’s cheek and wiped off the paint.
‘If I didn’t have my arms full of paintings, I’d thank you in the best way I know how. A hug. But seeing as I have, how about this on account?’ He pursed his lips in a kiss gesture so Cara reached over on tiptoe and put her lips to his; the most chaste of kisses but for Cara that second kiss had been a long time coming. She had a feeling from now on it wasn’t going to be the last.
And then the door opened and Mae came in. Cara froze. Tom almost dropped the paintings but just managed to scrabble them back under his armpits again.
‘Well, well, well,’ Mae said, grinning broadly, which made Cara think all her birthdays and Christmases might have come at once to see Mae pleased her mother was kissing the B&B guest she’d been so hostile towards for so long. ‘Am I interrupting something?’
‘No, Mum, of course I don’t mind you going out for a meal with Tom,’ Mae said. ‘Honestly. It’s nice he’s asked.’
‘He didn’t ask. I asked him.’
‘Way hey!’ Mae said. ‘My mum getting into the twenty-first century! And did you kiss him first, too?’
‘Whoa!’ Cara giggled. ‘Not so fast! Tom suggested it.’
‘An offer you couldn’t refuse?’
Cara felt herself blush. This was a strange conversation to be having with her daughter, having been caught kissing someone Mae perhaps might not have expected her to be kissing, and wasn’t it usually the other way around – mothers butting in on their daughters having a sneaky kiss?
‘And you don’t mind that either? That I was kissing Tom, or he me, like I said?’
‘Not any more,’ Mae said.
‘So, what’s changed?’
Mae shrugged, and Cara wondered if she’d asked that question just a bit too soon.
‘Everything. Nothing. This summer being a funny old summer in so many ways? Tom turning up; that stupid, stupid thing with Josh; my frock getting wrecked; the paintings being in the pubs? Bailey.’
‘Bailey?’
‘Yeah,’ Mae said, a grin spreading across her face, forming the dimples in her cheek Cara hadn’t seen for far too long. ‘You’re not the only one who got a kiss today, you know.’
‘You and Bailey?’
Mae nodded.
‘Like mother, like daughter. He suggested it and I took him up on it. Down on the harbour in full view of a tripper boat full of wildlife watchers just back from a cliff-hugging cruise and a few dozen gulls. It was so sweet and gentle … which might be too much information!’
No, no not at all, Cara wanted to say but wasn’t going to.
‘Well, we’re full of surprises today, darling,’ Cara said. ‘I’ve got another one for you.’
She reached for Mae’s hand and pulled her towards the snug.
‘Oh!’ Mae said as she took in Cara’s remake of her much-loved black and white fifties frock. ‘I didn’t know you were making this. When have you had the time?’
‘Between room changeovers. While I was waiting for guests to leave and others to arrive. I couldn’t really go anywhere so it’s been good to have a project. A secret. At night if I couldn’t sleep, I came down and did some hand-sewing a few times. What do you think?’
‘It’s almost the same. How … where … oh God, it’s gorgeous. Can I try it on?’
‘Of course,’ Cara said, but already Mae was slipping off one frock and slipping into the new one. It was a perfect fit.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ Mae said, hugging her mother, kissing her cheek, tears flowing, all at the same time. Then she stood on a chair so she could see all of her in the mirror over the sideboard. ‘It’s not the one Dad bought me and really it was time to let that go really. This is the one you got me and … oh Mum, I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a cow at times, a right bitch really. I was either whinging about stuff – like the B&B and Tom being here – or I was going all silent on you. I did that to Bailey too, the silent treatment, but he explained it all to me. I said sorry to him as well. Just now, before the kiss and all that. Well, not the all that cos I’m still a virgin in case you were wondering ….’ Mae jumped down off the chair and began hugging and kissing Cara and crying all over again. ‘Happy tears, Mum,’ she said. ‘Happy tears.’
It was like a dam bursting, all Mae’s emotion coming out, all the confessions, all the love Cara
had known was there all along – she’d just had to be patient and wait for her daughter to come back to her. Cara thought her heart might burst with the joy of it. Well, that and Tom’s kiss.
‘What paintings is Tom putting in the village hall?’ Mae asked, plonking herself down on the sofa now, as though she’d exhausted herself telling Cara what she had.
‘I don’t know. He didn’t show me. He was just going out when …’
‘When you brazenly flaunted yourself in front of him? And, being a perfect gentleman, he thanked you in the only acceptable way – by suggesting you kiss him?’
‘Something like that,’ Cara giggled.
‘Yeah,’ Mae said, suddenly serious again. ‘I wonder what his paintings are going to be like, though? I know his website’s full of nudes but, well, I don’t think he’s so stupid as to think Larracombe will fall at his feet if that’s all he’s exhibiting. I mean, we’re women and we know what women look like and, well, I don’t know that I’d want a nude painting of me on the wall over the fireplace or wherever. Or of you? Even if, like, you’ve kept your figure and that.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Cara laughed.
‘Meant as one,’ Mae said. She leapt up off the sofa and did a twirl in her new frock. ‘God, but this is gorgeous. Bailey asked if I was going to see Tom’s work. Part of me wants to, but part of me’s scared. Someone in the pub at lunchtime said there are a couple of TV crews coming to opening day. One’s going to be at the village hall ‘cos Tom’s the most famous artist here and, well, what do you think? Are you scared what we might see?’
‘Not scared, Mae,’ Cara said. ‘Inquisitive maybe. And we could be in for a surprise. I don’t know. I hope so.’
‘Me too,’ Mae said. ‘I might wear this or I might not. It’s a sort of memory of Dad, but it’s also the reality of you for making it.’
‘That’s a lovely way of putting it,’ Cara said. ‘But Tom will be back for some more paintings shortly and I wouldn’t want him to overhear us talking about him …’
‘Hey!’ Mae interrupted. She came to stand in front of Cara and put her hands on her mother’s shoulders, and looked her straight in the eye. ‘Sorry, you know, for butting in but I’ve just had a thought. You’re not too old to have another baby, are you?’
‘Now that’s a question I wasn’t expecting! We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we? It was just a kiss, sweetheart.’
‘Yeah,’ Mae said, hugging Cara all over again. ‘And we all know where kisses can lead, don’t we?’
Indeed we do, Cara thought, as she heard the front door open and Tom’s footfalls across the parquet floor – how quickly she’d become used to the sound of Tom’s footfalls, distinct from any other guest’s.
‘Shh,’ she said, putting a finger to her lips and whispering. ‘We don’t want him to hear us.’
Tom was already at the Beachcomber when Cara arrived. He’d bagged one of the alcoves and beckoned Cara over the second she stepped inside. She hurried over to meet him with almost indecent haste.
‘Thanks …’
‘You …’
They both began to speak at once.
‘Ladies first,’ Tom laughed.
‘Thanks for bagging the alcove,’ Cara said.
The place was filling up now. Cara saw Josh Maynard come in, a young girl hanging onto his arm; they both looked rather the worse for alcohol already and Cara breathed a sigh of relief that Mae had seen his true colours. As though sensing Cara looking at him, Josh looked over and waved a hand – nervously Cara thought – in greeting, but didn’t smile. Cara gave a little nod of acknowledgement but didn’t wave.
‘Who’s that?’ Tom said, raising an eyebrow in Josh’s direction. Josh and his girlfriend had climbed onto bar stools waiting to order drinks. ‘Not that I’m jealous or anything!’
‘No need to be,’ Cara laughed. ‘I don’t know I could cope with a toy boy! He’s an old boyfriend of Mae’s. The one she was with the night you arrived when she was late back from a sailing trip.’
‘No loss I’d say,’ Tom said. ‘I’ve had supper in here a fair few times since stopping at Cove End and I haven’t seen him with the same girl twice yet!’
‘He’s always had a bit of a reputation. Mae had to learn the hard way.’ Cara gave a little shiver remembering that night, even though it seemed such a long time ago now.
‘So,’ Tom laughed, ‘that’s the small talk out of the way. Ah, here’s the waitress now with my order. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering champagne.’
‘Champagne?’ Cara said as the girl put the bucket on the table. She had two champagne flutes in the other hand, and deftly stood them on the table.
‘The very same,’ Tom said. He picked up the menu off the table, handed it to Cara and then turned to the waitress. ‘Give us five minutes.’
‘Sure,’ she said and wandered off again.
Tom pulled the cork from the champagne with a very satisfying pop and began to fill the glasses.
‘What are we celebrating?’ Cara said. It was she who had invited Tom to supper and she couldn’t help wondering if she would be expected to pay for the champagne.
‘Lots of things,’ Tom said. ‘Shall we order and then I’ll tell you?’
‘Hmm,’ Cara said. She scanned the menu, which was small but interesting. ‘Salmon with watercress sauce, I think. You? Remember it’s my treat.’
‘Ah yes, so it is, but the champagne’s on me.’
So that was that little issue out of the way, Cara thought with a touch of relief.
‘Sea bass for me,’ Tom said. He called the waitress over and placed their orders.
‘So, the celebration?’ Cara said, sipping her champagne. It was gorgeous – Moët & Chandon, nothing but the best. Already it was going to Cara’s head, making her feel light-headed, giddy with … what? The romance of sharing a meal with Tom? But there was apprehension too, that it might all be over before it had really begun once the art festival finished.
‘Ah yes. Well, for me the number one celebration is that Mae didn’t come at me all guns blazing and scratch my eyes out when she caught us kissing. Number two is my paintings are now all hung in the village hall ready for the opening tomorrow. I didn’t think I was going to make it because number three is I took a big risk changing my subjects and part of me is dead scared people who know me for my life studies won’t like the new works, but that’s a risk I’ll take. And number four is I want to thank you for being the perfect landlady. There were so many times when I wanted to stay chatting to you over breakfast or when I got back from doing some sketches, but knew if I did I wouldn’t want to leave and go back to my lonely garret to paint.’
‘I’ll drink to one of those,’ Cara said. ‘That Mae didn’t scratch your eyes out.’
Tom reached for Cara’s hand across the table.
‘I’ve been treading on eggshells over Mae. The last thing I wanted was to upset her by, well, beginning a relationship with her mother. That’s if that’s what you want and … God but I’m sounding like a lovesick teenager and not the almost middle-aged man that I am!’
‘We’ve made a start,’ Cara said. ‘Two kisses.’
Their food arrived and the nervous moment for Tom was over: Cara had let him know she was thinking along the same lines as he was. They began to eat, mostly in silence except for Tom asking if Cara wanted her glass refilled. She did.
‘Crikey, this is really good,’ Tom said. ‘Have a taste.’ He speared a piece of sea bass on the end of his fork and held it towards Cara. ‘Open wide.’
Such an intimate gesture and something she and Mark had never done, not that they’d eaten out much since Mae had been born. Was Mark always going to enter her thoughts at inappropriate moments, as now? Cara supposed he would and there were lots of memories of Mark that she would treasure, but all the same she gave her head a little shake to banish him from her thoughts while she had someone she was falling more in love with by the minute.
&n
bsp; ‘The salmon’s pretty good, too,’ Cara said. She returned the compliment with a chunk of lightly smoked River Dart salmon on the end of her fork. She wondered if, perhaps, she ought to be asking Tom what subjects he’d been painting but decided not to. She had a feeling he wanted his work to be a surprise.
‘My treat next time,’ Tom said. ‘That’s if you don’t mind me stopping on when the art festival’s over. Just ‘til I decide the next step.’
So, he wanted there to be a next time but he was planning on leaving at some stage, then?
‘You’ll go back to London?’ Cara knew her words sounded flatter than coca cola left in a glass overnight. Louise was in London.
Tom shrugged.
‘I ought to,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want to. I suppose what I’m trying to say and making a total hash of it is I’ve come to really like it here. I’d keep a pied-a-terre in London because that’s where the major exhibitions are and I’d need to show my face for those, but I was wondering if … if I’m rushing you by asking if you fancied London for a weekend now and again.’
‘I would,’ Cara said. ‘I’d love to.’ She’d finished her meal and placed her cutlery neatly side by side across the plate. Thoughts of London – visiting art galleries, Liberty’s, Covent Garden, Oxford Street, doing the tourist bit with a tour of all the famous landmarks, and choosing which restaurant to eat in from all the hundreds there were to choose from – flooded through her head. Tom could rush her as much as he liked.
‘Mae, too, if she wants to,’ Tom said.
Cara clapped a hand to her mouth – she hadn’t given Mae a thought there for a second, but Tom obviously had, and that realisation wrapped itself around Cara’s heart like cashmere. Tom was saying, in his way, that he knew Mae would always be a priority in Cara’s life and that he was fine with that.
‘Of course,’ Cara said, swallowing hard, touched almost to tears at Tom’s thoughtfulness. ‘Thank you. Pudding?’
Cara wouldn’t be able to eat another thing but she knew Tom was fond of a pudding, especially her signature panna cotta with passion fruit, which she’d often left for him in the fridge.
The Little B & B at Cove End Page 22
