By late afternoon after a phone call from Jay, she was feeling the most relaxed she’d been in a long while. He hadn’t mentioned the idea of a bolthole in Europe again, she’d been too busy blabbering on about the Wedding Dress Ball and how the plans were coming together so well. But even still, Melissa knew it was time to stop putting off the inevitable and go see her little cottage.
She walked from the inn, past the bus stop and to the road beyond that led down to the riding school, past the paddocks where horses grazed and a group of riders saddled up preparing to go out on a hack, and, finally, she stood outside the cottage where she’d gone from being a baby to a toddler, an unsure teen to a woman, a happy daughter of two doting parents who had the world at her feet to a grieving adult who didn’t know which way to turn. The path still had the wobbly brick right on the edge where it met the pavement – she put her foot out to test it. The flowerbeds in front of the downstairs window had kept the familiar curve her dad had dug one summer for her mum to plant bulbs to add colour to the otherwise neat and tidy tiny patch of lawn. Only one cluster of tulips remained, the rest had died away for another season and now bright orange marigolds and a row of rich blue delphiniums had begun to spring up to take their turn. The front door had once been the same blue as those delphiniums but over the years it had faded, the paint had peeled near the letterbox, and her mum never had planted those roses across the door. She wondered, did the tenants love to light a fire in the winter months, cursing as they cleaned out the grate the following morning, but realising as they cosied down in the room and watched the flames flicker that it was worth it every time? She wanted to know whether the stairs still creaked on the second step up unless you stood on the edge that wasn’t carpeted, and if, when you opened the windows at the back of the property, you could hear the distant braying of the ponies at the riding school.
Melissa had so many good memories caught up in this cottage. It was funny to think that part of her life was contained in those walls that no amount of repainting would gloss over. So much was the same, yet everything had changed. She thought about the holiday homes she and Jay had looked at on the internet, including the latest one he’d found, and realised she had never wanted anything less. She might not live here anymore, but somehow she didn’t want to cut her ties with this little cottage. Maybe she would one day, but for now, she wasn’t ready.
When a little boy’s face popped up at the window investigating who had taken such an interest in the cottage, she went back the way she’d come.
Back on The Street there was only one place to go now, the cove, where she’d done so much of her thinking over the years, and when she turned down beside the chapel she smiled and didn’t feel that tug of pain or brace herself when she knew she was parallel to the cemetery. Instead, she felt a sense of peace.
Her smiled widened when she got to the part of the track from where she caught her first glimpse of the water. She made her way down to the sands, picked up a handful of stones and walked down to the water’s edge.
She stood, breathing in the salty tang, letting the breeze caress her skin. The sound of the waves made her shoulders drop and she relaxed. She loved the feel of the sea air on her skin. After the last time she’d come down here she’d got back to the Heritage Inn and tried to brush her hair, tugging at the tangled strands bound together with salt residue. She knew it would be the same after this visit too.
She tried to skim the stones, one after the other, none of them managing to come up from their initial immersion. She’d only just run out of stones when one came from past her right shoulder and expertly hopped from one part of the water to the next, the next and the next after that.
‘You never were any good.’ Harvey came to stand beside her.
‘And you could always do it,’ she answered with a smile. People seemed to be springing up when she least expected today. ‘It frustrated me no end.’ She didn’t have to look to see he was grinning.
‘May I?’ He took hold of her wrist when she picked up another stone and when she didn’t move her arm away he showed her how to rest the stone on her second finger while making a backwards C shape with her thumb and first finger. ‘You want to angle it at about twenty degrees, give a side throw, flicking the wrist.’
‘Like this?’ She moved so it was at the correct angle.
‘Go for it.’
She threw again, tried another and then a third, which skimmed twice and then plopped into the depths of the water.
‘Practice,’ he said.
She sat on the sand as the water gently lapped a few feet away. It was cooler this afternoon as though the summer had already had enough for one day but with a cardigan on over a navy-and-white-striped cotton dress it was pleasant enough. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’
‘I was, I went after we showed Barney the barn, but now I’m done for the day – it was a very early start, remember.’ He let the quiet between them settle.
‘You must like having varied hours.’
‘I do, especially when I get to enjoy time down here.’
‘I’ve been to a lot of countries, you know I’ve seen my share of beautiful beaches,’ she told him, ‘but this is special.’
‘You can’t beat the British seaside. It’s got character. Pity we can’t make the cove like one of those fancy gardens in London where you need a key to gain access. Residents only.’
‘I like the way you think,’ she grinned.
He picked up another stone and toyed with it before skimming it across the water. ‘How are you feeling now, about being back here?’
She could tell from his voice he wasn’t all that sure about asking the question. ‘Better than I was, put it that way. I went to the cemetery today.’
‘And how was that?’
‘Traumatic.’ But she was smiling. She told him how Tilly turned up, how they’d talked, how they’d spent time together and Tilly had made her go into the tea rooms, walk The Street with her head held high and get over it.
‘She’s a good sort, Tilly. Bossy, but I’m pleased she’s giving you a break.’
‘I spent a small fortune in her shop, maybe that was her ulterior motive.’
‘You’ll be going back to Windsor with an extra suitcase if you’re not careful.’
‘Don’t joke!’
‘Are you missing home?’
‘I’m getting fed up with living out of a suitcase and in one room. I get bored unless I’m with Barney.’ Or with him, but she wasn’t going to admit that. The other night when she’d gone to his house to tell him about the letter she’d found, she knew deep down it was an excuse. She’d wanted to see him, she wanted to know he hadn’t met up with Casey after going to his mum’s, and her relief when he’d turned up alone had wracked her with guilt when she thought of Jay. At the start of her relationship with Jay she’d got the feeling that complicated emotions weren’t a thing with him and it was a relief after everything that had gone on. But now, spending so much time with Harvey was making her question herself and it was hard to know which way to turn. Part of her longed to leave and head back to familiarity, her job, Jay; the other part of her felt as though she really did belong here, and the more time she spent with Harvey, the harder it got. She knew that her being in another man’s company wouldn’t faze Jay but the history between herself and Harvey might. And the longer she kept his name out of any of their conversations whether by phone or email, the harder it got to mention him.
Harvey gave up skimming stones and sat down beside her, watching the gentle waves coming in to the cove, splaying out and clutching every grain of sand they could before fading away again. ‘Did you see the tears in Barney’s eyes this morning when we showed him the barn?’
‘I did. And I’m glad.’ She nudged him when he pulled a face. ‘Not because we made him cry but because he’s all in. He might not be running the show, but I think perhaps it might go well and make him want it to run next year.’
‘And where will you be next year?’
She shrugged and then asked, ‘What brings you down here anyway?’ He wasn’t walking Winnie so she wondered whether he’d followed her down her. Her suspicions were correct.
‘I saw you head down this way and I wanted to talk to you about Barney. I’ve been thinking about what you said, the reasons behind Barney hosting the ball in the first place.’
‘You don’t think I’m being ridiculous?’
‘No, I don’t. It didn’t occur to me before but after I left his place, after we’d shown him the barn, I remembered a conversation I had with him a few years back. I’d seen the newspaper coverage about the event and for some reason I asked more questions, I wanted to know what gave him the idea and why he picked that charity.’
‘Can you remember what he said?’
‘He always insisted he got the idea from somewhere else and it just seemed a good idea for a community event. He didn’t answer the bit about the charity. From what I remember he avoided that part of my question and changed the subject. He said helping the community was the most important thing.’
‘He always did have everyone else in mind.’
‘He did, still does. You know, he hated that you’d left here and gone to London, not just because he never saw you, but because he said you’d be one in thousands, you probably wouldn’t know your neighbours, nobody looked out for each other anymore.’
‘He told me all that before I left too, but he never once tried to stop me.’
‘He wouldn’t have, he thinks too much of you.’
‘Why didn’t you stop me, Harvey? I mean, you didn’t go with me, but you never told me not to go either.’
The muscles in his forearms twitched when he stood and brushed the sand from his jeans. ‘Let’s focus on Barney, shall we?’
‘We need to talk, Harvey.’ She followed after him when he began to walk away, close to his heels to close the gap. ‘I’m not looking for an argument.’
She hadn’t expected him to turn around so suddenly, their bodies almost touching, the wind lifting her hair and blowing it across her face. She could smell a mixture of the lavender shampoo she used and something more earthy, masculine, a part of him.
He reached a hand up and hooked her hair away from her face and in that moment she saw the regret in his eyes, the love that might still be there. Or was she making up stories in her mind that weren’t really there at all?
‘Hey, you guys!’ The voice behind Harvey broke the moment and it was Tracy coming down onto the sands with her dog, Mischief.
‘Hey.’ Melissa reached down to fuss the dog but it was more intent on barrelling towards the water.
The wind had picked up and Tracy was struggling to keep the strands of her hair away from her face too. ‘Mischief loves it down here, she’s the boss some days when I just have to get her outside.’ She looked from Harvey to Melissa and back again but if she picked up on anything she didn’t mention it.
‘I’ll leave you women to talk,’ said Harvey, waving a goodbye and making his way back up the sands towards the steps that would take him away, back up to the track.
Melissa watched him go as Tracy encouraged Mischief out of the water so they could walk along the shore. The dog had boundless energy but was obedient with it.
‘I’ve already walked her around Heritage Cove,’ said Tracy, ‘but I knew coming down here to the beach would wear her out. She’ll likely sleep all afternoon in the garden.’ She threw a ball she’d brought with her some distance in front of them for Mischief to chase after.
As they walked along Melissa told Tracy all about Barney and his reaction to what they’d done with the barn. ‘I think I may have been right to suspect the ball is more important to him than he’s ever let on.’
‘How so?’
‘I don’t want to talk about him behind his back, but trust me, there’s more to this than we realise.’
‘Does Harvey know you’re thinking that way?’
‘We talked, yes. And get that look off your face, it doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Sure it doesn’t. You two looked pretty tight when I got down here a minute ago.’ Tracy threw the ball even further when Mischief dropped it at her feet again. She’d always been a solid cricket player at school, much to the boys’ chagrin when she could throw the ball much further than any of them managed.
‘We’re friends again, I suppose.’
Tracy let it go. ‘If you have a hunch about Barney – and I won’t pry – then why not ask him about it?’
‘Barney isn’t the easiest person to get information out of.’
‘I can well imagine.’
‘He has shared things with us. He’s talked about being a young boy, his school days, the pranks he and his buddies used to play. He’s talked about when he first arrived in the Cove and moved into his house, the barn that was part of the attraction. But there’s a great big gap between him being young and living elsewhere and his coming here that he never talks about. There’s a sadness somewhere and I think that’s what’s got into his head since the fall, the things he’s lost or missed out on. He keeps warning me not to do the same, not to have regrets. I can’t help thinking that if we can get to the bottom of it, have him deal with whatever happened, then he might let it go once and for all and be back to himself.’
‘We would all love that in the Cove. I was only saying to Etna this morning that I miss seeing him wandering up The Street, she misses talking with him over a cup of tea and a scone.’ Tracy grimaced at the amount of slobber on the ball when Mischief brought it to her this time but threw it again and rinsed her hand off in the sea. ‘Let’s face it, if anyone knows Barney well, it’s you and Harvey. You both do what you think is best. If you want to know more, why not do some investigating. Barney obviously isn’t going to give you anything if he’s refused so far.’
Melissa smiled. ‘I’ll bet you’re a great mum, you sound so wise.’
‘I doubt my kids would agree.’ She laughed and scolded Mischief, who’d lost interest in the ball and instead run into the water before coming up close and shaking her coat all over the both of them. ‘Did she get you?’
‘A little, but I don’t mind. So you don’t think we’re being nosy and prying into Barney’s private affairs?’
‘He’s not leaving you any choice. And you’re doing it because you care. That makes it all right in my book.’
The only problem was, Melissa had no idea where to start.
Chapter Ten
Two days after he saw Melissa down by the water’s edge, it was breakthrough day at the house Harvey and the rest of the crew were working on. The family had cleared out for the day to let the team get on with the task of cutting through the ceiling and installing the new stairs. This was the most exciting part for the owners, because rather than disruption and banging all day every day, they got to finally envisage what the finished result would be. Harvey remembered this stage at Tumbleweed House, it had been the mark of a new beginning, a fresh start to rid the place of tormenting memories.
Harvey and workmate Bruce went outside to the garden and between them carried the new main stair length up to the first floor. The corner steps had already been fixed in position and with a little manipulation and a couple of swear words from Bruce when he almost trapped his fingers – he seemed to do all his cursing when he was away from his kids – the stairs were a perfect fit. Harvey took the drill and fixed the screws in at the very top before wiping the back of his hand across his brow.
‘I need a beer tonight after all this,’ said Bruce after one more swear word for good measure when he knocked his funny bone on the edge of a wall.
‘I’m with you there, mate,’ said Harvey, fixing a screw lower down on the staircase. He set down the drill when one of the lads passed him a mug of tea. ‘Cheers.’ After a couple of thirsty gulps he stood back to admire their work. ‘Looks good, even though I do say so myself.’
‘Always the best part,’ Bruce confirmed. ‘And one of the hardest.�
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‘I don’t know, I’d take lifting that staircase over getting those steel supports into place.’ The tea went down very well, gave him the impetus to carry on. ‘You got your tickets for the ball yet?’ As well as flyer coverage, he always mentioned it at work to make sure everyone knew about the event of the year and was reminded that it wasn’t all that far away.
‘You mean ticket, singular,’ Bruce grinned. He set down his own cup and began to prepare to finish the plasterboarding now the stairs were in place. He found the adhesive they’d use to paste onto the wooden frames.
‘Not got anyone to take?’
‘Working on it,’ Bruce laughed. He’d had few dates since he and his wife split up, although he’d smartened up his image and worked out at a gym as well as doing a physical job. He’d told Harvey it was a good place to meet women, but so far he hadn’t proven his point. ‘How about you? You and Melissa picking up where you left off?’
‘Hardly.’
‘Who’s getting lunch today?’ Tim called out from wherever he was working on the floor above.
‘That’ll be me,’ Harvey called back. ‘I’ll go after I’ve helped lift the plasterboards into place.’ And just like that Bruce’s quizzing about Melissa had been avoided as they both concentrated on lifting an end of the board each and put it against the adhesive.
Harvey made notes on his phone of the orders from the others and left the semi-detached residence on the outskirts of Heritage Cove to drive the short distance into the village and to the bakery. There was a chain bakery in the next village, but Celeste and Jade did the best sandwiches around. And besides, in Heritage Cove they supported each other and that included the small businesses that operated there. If they didn’t, the village would lose its character and personality. It wasn’t that any of them liked living in the past or were blinkered to changes, it was just the way it had always been.
Coming Home to Heritage Cove Page 18
