“Ah,” sighed James, stroking Elizabeth’s hair into place. “The unsavory boy who saved your mother.” Another cold kiss, this time on her forehead. “Sweet, wonderful Lizzy. You should give him one of these drawings. He might like it.” Her teeth clenched to hear him shorten her name, a nasty habit he had picked up. She suspected her father wasn’t too keen on it either. “I was thinking,” he said, already moving on, his smooth hands taking hers; how neat they seemed in comparison to Tom’s, like the hands of a little boy. “We should visit the Minack Theatre. It’s quite a sight, and the headland of the Porthcurno coastline is a perfect backdrop for your sketches. I think you’d like it.”
“Sounds nice,” she said, just wanting to get back to work. Every touch, every kind word, all felt like a betrayal to Tom.
“What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” she almost shouted. The first thought to come to mind was of Tom, and when she might see him if she was out all day with James. “It’s a bit far, isn’t it?” Perhaps that would put him off. “And anyway, how would we get there?”
His touch was gentle but definite as he led her toward a seat. “I’m taking delivery of an Austin Morris today.” His smile lingered in anticipation of her approval, fading only when it didn’t come. “Well,” he said, a little disappointed to have had the wind whipped from his sails, “you just wait to see it. The weather should be fine, and we can take a picnic. You can draw to your heart’s content. I’ll arrange it all with your father,” he said just as Dr. Davenport arrived in the waiting room with Mr. Bolitho in tow, nursing a bandaged hand.
“Elizabeth.” Her father stopped when he saw her, his eyes flicking to the clock on the wall, saying nothing more before turning to Francine. “Could you please book an appointment for Mr. Bolitho to see me next Tuesday? And Dr. Warbeck, if you would be kind enough to see Mr. Anderson and his good wife through to my office,” he said, motioning to the couple on the far side of the waiting room. “I’ll be with you all in just a moment.” The implication was that he wanted some time alone with Elizabeth.
Once the Andersons and James were in the office, he turned to his daughter. Francine was sitting at the reception desk, trying to hide the fact she was still listening in, but doing a poor job of it. It appeared her father noticed that too, and a slight hesitancy softened his voice, cushioning the forthcoming reprimand. Elizabeth wasn’t fooled.
“We missed you at breakfast today, and, I might add, on a number of other days since that business with your mother. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
A breath shuddered through his lips. “I do hope so,” he said, pausing. Elizabeth’s pulse quickened at his hesitation. “Let me be clear, Elizabeth. I’ve heard some disconcerting rumors about where you’ve been sneaking off to.” Had Francine seen her with Tom, dropped her in it? They hadn’t been careful enough. “Is it true that you have been meeting the boy who saved your mother?”
“Would it be so bad if I had?” she asked, despite knowing that nothing about her meetings with Tom was appropriate anymore. Not even her thoughts about Tom were appropriate anymore.
“Elizabeth,” her father said, his tone changed. He licked at his lips, deciding how best to proceed. “I don’t want you talking to that Hale boy.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong, Daddy.”
“No, you haven’t, not yet at least. But you don’t understand how these local lads think. And what in heaven’s name would James say if he knew? Why would you risk your future on a whim such as this?”
Elizabeth could feel her face flushing because she knew the answer to that; she couldn’t help herself. That once eager willingness to please her father and James seemed to belong to a different lifetime. Tom’s presence created something within her, like a spark, an energy that could start fires. It made her want to light up the world. That was how you knew somebody suited you, she thought; they made you feel something good within your soul about the kind of person you were. James, she had since realized, did nothing to make her feel that way.
Dr. Davenport straightened his white coat and placed one hand on her shoulder.
“Elizabeth, I know you’re not like a lot of these other local girls; you have always wanted something more than a husband and a home, and I know you aspire to be an artist with those pictures of yours. But don’t you want to settle down with a family, have children of your own, and create a home as your mother did for us? Trust me when I say that you have brought the most pleasure for your mother and I.”
“Of course I want those things,” she said, hesitating. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I’m not sure I want them with James.”
“So, what? You want them with this Tom lad? A fisherman? How would you survive, darling? Your little pictures aren’t going to clothe your children or put food on the table. James is a decent man, he’ll let you keep at it if you so wish. Please consider what I have said, okay?” She nodded. There was nothing else she could do for now. “I need to get back to work. But I assume we can expect you at the dinner table tonight?”
It wasn’t really a question, and Elizabeth had to think quickly. “Actually, I was planning to go out with Margaret. We were going to walk to Land’s End, watch the sunset. Is that all right?” It caught her breath to think how easily she had learned to lie.
“I see no reason why not,” he said after studying her face for a while. “Speak to Mrs. Clements.” Mrs. Clements was their housekeeper, and since Elizabeth’s mother had become sick, she was integral to the daily running of their home. “She will make you a nice supper to take with you. But I want you back by eight thirty. The sun should have set an hour or so before then, so it should give you plenty of time.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m very proud of you, and James is too. Let’s not do anything to change that, okay?”
Her heart was still pounding when he retreated to his consulting room, and when she felt Francine arrive at her side. A small black tube appeared on the notes in Elizabeth’s lap. It rolled toward her body, settling against her stomach.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking it up, answering her own question by pulling off the lid to see a slick of cherry-red lipstick emerging as she twisted the end.
“You should wear it,” she said. “He’ll like it.”
Elizabeth tossed it back to Francine, once again sitting at the desk. “James doesn’t like me to wear any makeup. He says it’s cheap.”
Francine caught it against her chest. Laughing to herself, she threw it straight back. “Perhaps he does, but I wasn’t talking about James.”
Now
Alice arrived a short while before they were due to sit for dinner, while Elizabeth was still laying the table, the keys rattling in the door, the sound of heels against the tiled floor. Nobody else had a key. Only family. It worked well, Tom always said, having a daughter living just a few roads away, who could let herself in if anything happened.
“Hello,” Elizabeth said as Alice arrived in the doorway. Her eyes moved first to Elizabeth and then to the table, to the chair upon which Elizabeth had left a cardigan early that afternoon.
“Hi,” she said, a smile forming that appeared uncomfortable, as if it made her face sore. “Where’s Dad?”
Alice had been there a few times since their hospital visit. The first occasion was brief, and Elizabeth had stayed upstairs, as Tom had asked her to. She’d heard Alice crying, and then the door opening as she stepped outside. Noise had drawn Elizabeth to the window, where she saw Alice with tears on her cheeks, glistening like morning dew on the overgrown grass. When Alice looked up to see Elizabeth, she wiped her face and eyes before turning away to light a cigarette. That evening Tom had explained that one of Alice’s problems was that she was supposed to be moving to Hastings the next week. It was only a couple of hours away, but to everybody involved it felt much farther. Alice insisted she was moving in search of a better job, but Tom said she was running away from the difficulties of a dissolving marriage. Decisions made befor
e Tom got sick, and now everybody wished, deep down at least, that she would stay.
Alice was standing in the doorway where she had as a child scratched an A into the paintwork. In the kitchen was a mural of the sea that she’d painted on one of the cupboards. Reminders of Alice’s childhood, things that Tom had always refused to repair. Things that made Elizabeth feel like she didn’t belong.
“He’s having a lie-down,” Elizabeth told her. “We were having a game of cards earlier on and he got a bit tired.”
Alice peeled away her jacket, her cheeks red from rushing to get there. It still eluded Elizabeth what it was that Alice did for a job, but she was always well dressed. Something about selling and currency. Or stocks, maybe. Definitely money. Kate was always in boots and an overcoat, working on building sites. The thought was bittersweet, and Elizabeth made a mental note to message her daughter again that night.
“How has he been today?”
Elizabeth appreciated the question. It made her presence here useful, something she always felt less of in Alice’s presence. “Well, he wasn’t sick last night.”
“Something positive. And his mood?”
Elizabeth shrugged. What could she say? “He has been quite down today. Not very talkative, to be honest.”
It came in waves, like it did for all of them. His moods swung between wanting to make the most of each day, denying that he had anything wrong with him, to utter devastation over the fact that time was going to be shorter than he had hoped. Often Elizabeth felt at a loss for what to do.
“I don’t suppose it’s much of a surprise, is it? None of us are strong all the time.”
Alice slumped into one of the dining chairs. Elizabeth’s instincts were to offer comfort, the same as she would have done for Kate, but it was clear to her that this was not the kind of person Alice was. Still, she took a seat in a chair beside her, let her motherly instincts take over, and rested one of her hands on hers. Alice’s skin was dry and cracked. Only a few days ago her manicure had been impeccable, now it was all chewed to bits. Elizabeth understood; the little things that had once seemed important had paled. Like her winter roses, which she doubted had been watered properly since she left. How she had been looking forward to their bloom. Francine was feeding the cat, but Elizabeth doubted she’d bother with the plants, even though she’d asked her to tend to them. Still, Francine was sending Elizabeth a package of things she had requested for her extended stay, and for that she was grateful.
“When is the appointment?” Elizabeth looked up from her daydream to see Alice setting her phone aside.
“A week from Tuesday,” Elizabeth replied, getting to her feet.
“It seems like forever away.” Elizabeth was on uncharted ground; Alice wasn’t usually chatty like this. Her gaze fell somewhere beyond the window, in the garden. Elizabeth wondered which memory had caught Alice’s thoughts. “Another week of waiting feels like a year when it’s about cancer,” she eventually said.
Elizabeth didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so instead she motioned to the kitchen. While she was aware that they weren’t family, she wondered whether perhaps her presence could help facilitate some simple familial ministrations like a good meal shared together. Moments like that were important, especially now, and she knew how much she had missed Kate’s family coming over for Sunday lunch. “Would you like to stay for tea, love? I’ve made pork chops and roasted vegetables. There’s plenty, as your dad won’t eat much.”
Alice glanced at her phone. “I can’t. I’ve got work to finish for tomorrow, and still have loads to pack. If Dad’s going to sleep for the rest of the night I might as well get going.”
“You just sit right where you are.” Neither of them had heard him creeping down the stairs. On the 1960s carpet his footsteps were almost silent.
“Dad,” Alice said as she stood up and moved toward him, supporting his arm, even though he didn’t seem to need it. “How are you feeling?”
“Bloody marvelous, Bab,” he said, and they all detected the irritation in his voice. Bab was his nickname for his daughter, had been since she was two years old. He was grumpy and short-tempered in a way he wasn’t usually. Elizabeth had read that sometimes cancer could have that effect, start to change a person’s mood or manner. Alice helped him settle at the table, and because Elizabeth didn’t quite know what else to do, she went to the kitchen and pulled out another place mat and plate, then pulled a stout from the fridge and emptied it into a glass with a slim head, just the way Tom liked it.
“Now,” Tom said as she returned to the table, “while I’ve got you both here, I want to tell you that I’ve been doing some thinking.” His hands were placed flat against the table, but still Elizabeth could tell they were shaking. “I want to go and see the place I grew up just one more time.”
Elizabeth thought of her basket of wishes upstairs, and all those they might be able to fulfill together if they were in Porthsennen again. How she would love that.
“What?” asked Alice. “Don’t you think it’s a bit far for you at the moment? You’ll wear yourself out.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” he said. “Running back and forth like this, coming here every spare moment and working every other. You’re the one who’ll wear herself out.” Tom took a small mouthful of potato, but from the look he gave the plate afterward it must have made him feel sick, and he pushed the rest away.
“Don’t you want me to come here?” Alice asked.
“Of course I do, but not at the expense of your own life. What about Brian? Have you even spoken to him about all this yet?”
Elizabeth noticed Alice set her jaw as she turned to face her father. “I haven’t seen him, spoken to him, or thought about him. At least not until you brought it up. We’re not together anymore, Dad.” The plate clattered as she pushed it away. Elizabeth had served her some food regardless of the fact that she said she wouldn’t stay. “You just have to get used to that. And as for coming here, I want to be here with you,” she said, stealing a glance at Elizabeth, “so stop worrying about me.”
“Well, I do worry. You’ve got your own life to live.”
“Don’t you think you’re more important than anything else right now?”
He shook his head. “One day you’ll understand what I’m telling you, my love. I don’t want you to look back in another fifty years and say you could have done it differently. I’d never change having you, but there are plenty of other things I should have done better.” Her face softened at that, just the reminder that his concern came from a place filled with good intentions. “Does he still call, at least?”
“Leave it, Dad. It’s done.”
“Okay, I’ll leave it alone,” Tom said, reading her silence. He took another small mouthful of potato, forced it down. “Still, I’m sure he would be there for you, given a chance.”
“Is that what you call leaving it alone?” He held up his hands in surrender. “So, about Cornwall,” Alice said, changing the subject. “You want to go back to Porthsennen.”
He looked to Elizabeth with a smile. “It’s about time, after all these years sneaking down on my own, don’t you think? And part of me can’t believe that we never took you, love. Wouldn’t you like to see where I grew up?”
Alice smiled at that. “I see where this is going. I remember asking to go to Cornwall once and you said over your dead body.”
“Well, if we don’t go soon that might very well be the case.”
“Dad!” she shouted, and he looked sheepish enough to keep whatever retort that came to mind to himself.
“I’m sorry, love.” He reached for her hand and held it tight. “I know it’s a lot to ask, especially considering I’ve just told you to focus on your own life instead of mine, but it would be lovely to go there together. The old cottage where I was born is right on the seafront, thatched with a view of the little harbor. If we can make it up to the headland, you’ll even be able to see Wolf Rock.”
“The lighthouse?”
She looked to the painting, at the lighthouse where her father had once worked.
“Yes.” Elizabeth could see how much the trip meant to him. How long had he been thinking about it? She thought of her cottage, the very cottage Tom had grown up in, and how it would feel to be there together again. If he didn’t go now, he might never go again, if the worst came to them. Alice must have seen it too, because her face softened in that moment. “I would really love to show you.”
Elizabeth watched the smile spread across their faces. It was a good plan, coming together. “I’ll drive us, but only if the doctor says it’s all right.”
“You’re a good girl, Bab,” he said, taking her hand in his. He held on tight and took a deep courageous breath, or at least as deep as his damaged lungs would allow. “Now, about Brian. We could call him together if you like.”
“A girl can change her mind, you know,” she said.
He didn’t suggest anything else.
* * *
At Tom’s request they put the television on and listened to a game show in the background while they ate the rest of their dinner. Tea steamed in mugs on the table, one of which remained largely untouched. Alice and Elizabeth sat back on the settee, Tom in his threadbare chair. After a time, he drifted off to sleep, his mouth open and eyes only half-closed.
“Is that it for the night?” Alice asked, nodding toward her father.
“Most likely,” Elizabeth told her. “He doesn’t have much energy, what with not eating his dinner. Sleeps ever such a lot.”
“He always fell asleep early, even when I was a kid.”
Elizabeth smiled. “It’s Porthsennen in his blood, love. He was up every morning at three or four, out fishing. Used to have bags under his eyes sometimes before it was even midday. Was always the most handsome man in the whole of Penwith, mind.”
Alice laughed, but stifled it so as not to wake her father. “Not the whole of Cornwall, then?”
Little Wishes Page 8
