‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, and strode off towards the gents.
The airport staff called for the passengers to assemble by the door to the runway, but there was still no sign of Lachlan. Marina hurried over to the loo, pacing up and down, half-fearing a call from the car park to say he couldn’t go through with the flight after all.
She let out an inner sigh of relief when he emerged from the gents. His face was pale and his hair damp as if he’d had to splash his face with water. She suspected he might even have thrown up.
‘How are you doing?’ she murmured when he joined her.
‘Not great,’ he said. ‘But I’m going through with this no matter what.’ He grasped her hand tightly. ‘I don’t think I’d even have made it this far without you.’
There was another call for passengers. ‘It’s now or never,’ she said, with her other hand on his arm.
His expression was that of a man being led to the scaffold. Marina was proud of him for trying to overcome his fears but wondered if they’d actually make it onto the aircraft.
Calling passengers McKinnon and Hudson. Please go to the gate now.
Tiny beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead.
‘Then it has to be now,’ he said.
They walked hand in hand out onto the breezy airfield. Up close the plane was even tinier than she’d dreamed and they had to duck under its wings to climb up the steps.
It was cosy inside the cabin, and that was putting it mildly. Lachlan followed her in and had to bend low to reach his seat. Marina tried not to think that this scrap of metal and the pilot, whom she recognised as a graduate of her college, was all that was keeping her from the same fate as Nate. She only hoped that the pilot had calmed down since the days he’d almost been thrown off his degree course for riding a shopping trolley through the campus and crashing into the principal’s Lexus.
‘Oh hello, Mrs Hudson. Lovely to see you again,’ he said cheerfully, greeting each passenger as they squeezed into their seats.
‘You know the pilot?’ Lachlan asked, looking greener than ever. ‘He looks about twelve.’
‘He was a very responsible student,’ she lied. ‘And much older than he looks.’
She decided not to share her real knowledge with Lachlan, especially when the first officer reiterated how to remove the windows in the event of an emergency before ‘Captain Stokes’ wished them a pleasant flight and took control of their lives.
When Lachlan pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses and put them on, Marina guessed he was trying to blot out his surroundings. His shoulders were rigid, his palms flat on his knees when the ground crew waved the plane onto the airstrip. She took his hand while the plane taxied along, its engines a dull rumble before they roared into full life. His grip on her fingers tightened as the plane hurtled down the runway. She saw his lips move, whether in a prayer or a curse, she didn’t know and, in a few seconds, the ground fell away.
Cornwall was a patchwork of green fields and brown moorland and a minute later, they were climbing steeply out over the sea towards the Longships lighthouse. Lachlan stayed upright, staring straight ahead behind the safety of his shades. She could only imagine the fear in his eyes but his face was almost as white as the foam on the sea, hundreds of feet below.
She had to gently release his grip to avoid having her fingers crushed.
‘Jesus. I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘It’s fine …’ She placed her hand over his. ‘And you did it. OK?’ she said, close to his ear.
He nodded, lifting his aviators a fraction to show her that his eyes were tightly shut. At least he had a sense of humour, even when he was clearly terrified. Holding his hand, she wondered if he’d see anything of their flight as the plane left Cornwall behind. Within a few minutes, scores of tiny islands set around a turquoise lagoon came into view.
She was proud that he’d even made it there as they came in to land, and he let out an audible gasp when the plane flew low over the cliff and onto the runway at St Mary’s.
The fact that he’d been willing to face his fears to make this trip, for her, caused her heart to soar. Whether they made it home again was another matter, but at least for the next few days they could forget the past and focus on getting to know each other a whole lot better.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘Wow. Just wow.’ Tiff shook her head. ‘When you said you were taking me to the theatre, I’ll admit I didn’t have this in mind.’
Tiff caught her breath at the panorama in front of her. A dozen words flew into her head but none were adequate to describe the view over the theatre hewn into the cliff side, with its epic backdrop of the ocean, white sands and dramatic cliffs.
When he’d picked her up from the cottage, Dirk had given no clue whatsoever as to where they were going and refused her pleas for a hint on what to wear. The result was that she was in ballet pumps, a dress and cardigan. Luckily it was a fine, mild evening.
She hadn’t realised their destination until they’d turned down the steep twisting lane that led to Porthcurno, but had kept the guess to herself, enjoying Dirk’s look of satisfaction.
Now, they were at the theatre, looking down at the incredible sight in front of them. She’d heard of the Minack, of course, and seen numerous photos in the magazine, even driven past the end of the road that led to it. She’d often wondered if online pictures showing its amphitheatre with a backdrop of the lagoon of Pedn Vounder were heavily Photoshopped.
Surely the experience couldn’t actually live up to the pictures and the hype.
It could. Oh, how it could.
The theatre itself, and the setting, knocked any West End venue out of the park. In fact, she concluded, it was the most spectacular outdoor performance space she’d ever been to, anywhere in the country.
‘It’s not the Albert Hall, I’ll admit,’ said Dirk solemnly.
‘No. It’s far more fun than that. They don’t have seagulls flying around in the Albert Hall or …’ Tiff sniffed the air. ‘The scent of pasties.’
‘No need for pasties! I brought a picnic. Shall we buy our seats?’
It turned out he meant it literally, and shortly after, clutching plastic cushions, they carefully made their way down the steep terraces to a spot halfway between the stage and the café.
The show, a student production of Much Ado About Nothing, was fun, if a little creaky at the seams. The performers were young and although talented, hadn’t yet blossomed to RSC levels, but she loved it. The fiery relationship between Beatrice and Benedick wasn’t lost on her either, though she’d no idea if Dirk had noticed the similarities.
The wind blew, drowning out a few lines, and a passing shower meant she had to deploy the hooded waterproof she’d bought and would not have been seen dead in in London.
But after the shower passed, the evening sun broke through to give a glorious sunset, setting the pink granite aglow. After dark, the theatre was even more spectacular. The sky changed from teal to indigo, with the jagged ridge of the Logan Rock silhouetted behind the performers.
Tiff found herself clapping and cheering along with the audience in a way she never would in London. Was it the change of venue, she wondered, or was it her that had changed? Was a slightly less cynical and weary Tiff emerging? A different Tiff to the woman who’d tottered up the steps to Dirk’s cottage all those months before?
Possibly … but that didn’t alter the fact that she must leave one day – mustn’t she? That prospect seemed very bleak with Dirk by her side, driving through the dark lanes east to Porthmellow.
She closed her eyes and she allowed fresh and even more dangerous thoughts to intrude into her mind. If she stayed in Cornwall, she’d never be able to have the career or lifestyle she cherished and still missed. Then again, maybe she could stay, she could try to make it work, if she found enough freelance work and perhaps got a senior job on a bigger regional … but those were hard to come by these days.
And she was ignor
ing the biggest reason for not staying: Dirk himself. Even if Tiff allowed herself to envisage a future in Cornwall, she was almost certain that Dirk wasn’t thinking the same. They’d both agreed to a casual relationship that would inevitably end. She’d told herself there were to be no regrets when they parted, and yet on this beautiful evening, with him beside her, even the unimaginable seemed possible.
‘Whoa!’
Her eyes flew open as the car jolted her. Dirk had turned off the road onto a stony track that ran perilously close to the edge of the sea.
‘Dirk. Forgive me, but this doesn’t appear to be a road …’ She risked a quick glance through the window. ‘Plus I hate to mention it but there seems to be a cliff drop next to the car.’
He patted her arm. ‘Relax.’
‘I would find it easier to relax if you kept both hands on the wheel, please.’
‘We’re almost here,’ he said, slowing.
White foam of breakers flashed in the darkness out of the passenger window. ‘Here, where? We could be in the sea at this rate!’
The car lurched to a halt and he grinned in the darkness. ‘Won’t be long,’ he said, leaving the door open and strolling to a white-painted barrier a few feet in front.
Tiff called to him out of the open door. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Perk of the job.’ He used some kind of key thing to undo the barrier, which swung upwards. He jumped back into the car, bumped it under the barrier and locked it behind them.
She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I feel as if I’ve been kidnapped by you,’ she said.
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘Depends what you have in mind.’
‘Something good, I hope.’
His response thrilled her, making her tingle from top to toe. She hugged herself to stem a shiver of sheer lust. Shortly afterwards, the car stopped at the top of a short but very steep track at the top of a tiny cove. The moon came out, illuminating the cove and a little hut, a bit like a beach chalet, adorned with lifebelts, fishing creels and ropes.
‘Far as we go,’ he said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Fisherman’s Mission hut.’
‘You’re not going to … in there? I hope they don’t have CCTV!’
He rolled his eyes. ‘As if they could afford it. No. Come on.’
She joined him on the slipway and he picked up a bundle from the boot, before taking her hand and walking her down the steep slipway.
He threw the blanket on the beach.
‘What if we get cut off?’
‘Lucky you’re with someone from the lifeboats, then.’
The moon was full out and the stars shining brightly. Everything was silvered, burnished: the sand, the rocks, the sea breaking on the cove. She felt as if she was almost the first person to discover it.
He held her and leaned down to kiss her. Under the stars, with the waves crashing onto the beach, they made love in true movie style. It was enough, Tiff thought, as Dirk kissed his way down her body, to make the most hardened cynic believe in happy endings. Even her?
As they sat together on the sand under the moonlight, it was impossible not to imagine more nights such as this, together with Dirk – nights that went on and on, that involved sharing their lives. They had so much in common, and not only their interests and pleasures and the sex. They’d both known what it was like to love and to lose that love; they also knew how rare it was to fall in love so deeply and that there might not be many more chances to feel that intensely again.
It was past midnight and the tide was starting to go out, the wet rocks glistening under the silver moonlight. Dirk insisted on wrapping the rug around Tiff and then sat with his arm around her as the waves lapped the shoreline. He kissed her neck and a sense of deep happiness filled her, a sense of peace … It might have been a post-sex mellowness but she’d never felt so safe, or so content.
The beauty of this isolated place brought words to her lips. ‘Slowly, silently, now the moon …’ she began.
Dirk supplied the next line. ‘Walks the night in her silver shoon …’
She turned to him in amazement. ‘You know the poem?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised. I learned it at school.’
Tiff smiled in delight. ‘It’s my favourite. This place reminds me of it.’
‘Yes. When the moon glints on the rocks, I’ve thought that too.’
‘Ah. You’ve brought people here before?’ she said, her spirits sinking a little.
‘For a rescue once, for fishing a couple of times. For what we’ve just done … you’re the first.’
She laughed. ‘I’d like to believe that.’
‘Then believe it because it’s true. Do me the credit of trusting me.’
She turned to look at him. ‘Not until you do the same for me.’
He nodded. ‘Look, I’m sorry for what I said about your job. I let the past cloud my judgement. I made the mistake of assuming you were part of a group of people and indistinguishable from them, rather than an individual in your own right.’
‘I did the same when I first arrived. Assumed, I mean, about Porthmellow, about you. I’ve been surprised by the place and you and most of all by myself.’
He kissed her, and then said, ‘And I’m amazed by you. You mesmerise me. I can’t keep away from you and I want to keep looking at you and listening to you. I want to know what’s behind the shell, and strip back the layers one by one …’
‘I think you already did that,’ she said, her voice was light but she was trembling a little, astonished by the frankness of his comments.
‘What happened to you in London?’ he asked. ‘I mean, what really happened to you? You can tell me. I know what it’s like to bury pain, and hide it behind a mask. Mine happens to be an uglier mask. Yours is glittering, but as fragile.’
‘Has anyone ever told you you should have my job?’ she said softly. ‘Your way with words.’
‘I want to know the real Tiff.’
Could she share that person with anyone? Could she make herself that exposed and vulnerable? ‘I’m not sure who she is.’
‘Try me.’ He kissed her very softly. The gentle touch was like turning a key that released her pent-up emotions, regrets, hopes, fears.
Before she knew it, the secret she’d never thought she’d share with him came pouring out. ‘I was very badly burned by a man I loved, and who I thought loved me. That’s what happened.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘So now you know that hard-nosed, savvy Tiff has a heart that’s as fragile as any other human being’s.’
His arms tightened around her. ‘I never thought you didn’t.’
‘Really? You could have fooled me.’
‘I … I’ve been angry and wounded myself. I misjudged you. Please tell me more about what happened. About this man – this bastard – who hurt you.’
‘You know all that needs to be said, other than I trusted him and thought he might be “the one”.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘That’s the worst thing. I ought to have known better. He made me feel like a fool and, while he was at it, he got me the sack from a job I loved. He took away everything: my work, my home, and my self-respect.’
‘And your trust in other people?’
‘Yes … I guess that’s why I now find it even harder to let myself get too close to anyone else again – in a romantic way, I mean.’ She looked into Dirk’s face, feeling the tears trickling down her face. ‘That’s my tale of woe.’
Dirk wiped away her tears with his thumb. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said and touched his forehead to hers. Far from comforting her, it unleashed the floodgates.
She wiped her face. How disgusting. Snivelling was so not her.
‘It’s OK to be human,’ he said. ‘I felt the same way since I split with Amira and, unlike you, I’ve no charm or energy to put on a front. I’m just a miserable bastard and recent experience has made me worse. We were even planning to have a family, you know, before we split up.’
So
, Dirk and Amira had been trying for a child. He must have wanted a family; he probably still did. Tonight had been wonderful and terrible too. She’d let her guard down and she now felt as if she’d revealed her most personal secret – flung it at Dirk like a nuclear missile. What if he thought she was trying to emotionally blackmail him?
Or worse, that she was trying to say she wanted to stay with him and … and … what?
She didn’t know what she wanted any more.
She hugged the blanket around her. ‘Can we go home, please? It’s bloody freezing out here and very late.’
He hesitated, obviously confused and troubled by the switchback to the ‘old’ buttoned-up, brittle woman. ‘Yes, but you can talk some more if you want.’
She got up, dragging the blanket with her, sand flying into the air. She was on the verge of tears again and panicking at showing any more emotion in case it unleashed a torrent. ‘I think we both know I’ve already said far too much.’
It was time to go, before she told him her other secret, the one she’d now admitted to herself: she’d fallen in love with him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marina and Lachlan strolled along the beach after dinner in their Scilly cottage situated above a tiny cove on the far west on St Agnes. It had taken a boat ride from St Mary’s to get there and they’d spent the day strolling the coast path and hunkering down at the one and only pub.
After a day of bright sun, the evening sky was tinged with rose gold and fiery orange while wavelets whispered onto the sand. All the visitors had gone and she and Lachlan were alone on the beach together. She was brimming with hope and happiness.
A helicopter flew over, heading back to the mainland after a visit to the Bishop Rock lighthouse. Lachlan stopped and shaded his eyes to watch it fly past.
‘OK?’ Marina asked.
He turned to her. ‘Yes, I think I am.’
A Perfect Cornish Escape Page 21
