A Reunion

by Emily Harvale

'So this is Merriment Bay?'

  Kyra darted looks from side to side and Cat gave her a sardonic smile.

  'Yep. A buzzing metropolis, it isn't. And so far, it hasn't changed. This road has as many potholes as it always had, the grass either side of it needs cutting, the sign to Merriment Farm's exactly the same, as are the signs to the WWII Museum. They looked as if they could've done with a lick of paint back then, and they look like that tonight. The Hope and Anchor pub hasn't changed at all, nor has the Spitfire Café.'

  She didn't mention the sign to Bay Water Sports, the business Amias Wells had just started on the beach when she first met him. That sign had definitely changed. Back then it was just three words, hand painted by Amias on to a piece of driftwood. Now the sign was huge. Another driftwood one over an actual surfboard, brightly painted by an obviously talented artist. There was also a life-size cut-out figure with a brightly smiling face, colourful shorts and a surfboard under his arm, seemingly walking towards the beach, with 'Everything good happens on the water' written on his board.

  'Look at that view, Mum!' Kyra sat upright and peered through the window. 'Can we stop for just one minute? I must get a photo of that full moon over the bay. I'd love to paint this view. Look how the dark sapphire of the sky melts into the indigo sea on the horizon. And that long trail of silver sparkles across the water. The sand in the bay looks almost black from here, except for the moonlight and the few flashes of lights reflected from the pub and those houses over there. And the stars. I thought we only got night skies like this in Bonniemount. The water gives it all a completely different perspective.'

  Cat smiled and glanced in the rear-view mirror before indicating and pulling over to the side of Coast Road, at the top of the hill leading down to the bridge, the river and the village. The view from here was just as Kyra had described it. The bay sat to their left and the English Channel swept out before them, a shimmering dark sapphire blue, flat-calm, with the trail of moonlight angled across it leading directly towards the centre of the bay.

  Kyra leapt out of the car but it took Cat a second or two to catch her breath. She and Kyle and Amias had sat on that sand on nights like this, staring out to sea, each deep in thought, and in her and Kyle's case, silently planning their future together.

  Memories would come back; of course they would. But she hadn't expected so many conflicting ones to hit her all at once, like a Tsunami. She took a few deep breaths and finally got out.

  Music and laughter from the pub, drifted through the sultry night air but there was no breeze at all to carry it. They'd had the air conditioning on in the car and the heat of the night settled around Cat like a warm, damp towel. Unless anything had changed, her old bedroom would be like sleeping in a sauna tonight. Why hadn't she thought about that and brought a fan? Not that it mattered. She probably wouldn't get much sleep anyway, even though she was shattered after such a long journey.

  'Oh, Mum. I know you told me this place was beautiful, but I hadn't expected this. It must've been so hard to leave. Although, of course, under the circumstances, it probably wasn't. I don't suppose we can go down to the beach, can we?'

  Cat shook her head. 'Not tonight, sweetheart. It's gone 10 and Mum doesn't know we're coming, remember. If we don't get there soon, she'll have gone to bed and we'll have to spend the night in the car. I told you. Everything is fully booked.'

  'I'd be happy to sleep in the car. Or on the beach on a night like this. The sand as my bed and the stars as my blanket.'

  Not only did Kyra look like Kyle, she sounded just like him too. That was exactly the sort of thing he would've said if he were here tonight.

  'You might not feel that way if it rains. Wet sand isn't quite as comfortable.'

  'It's not going to rain, Mum. Look.' She swept her arm out in front of her. 'See all those stars? There's not a cloud in the sky.'

  'Maybe not. But I'm too old and too tired to risk it. I need a proper bed. Sorry, sweetheart.'

  Kyra shrugged. 'That's OK. I'll do it another night.'

  'Not on your own, please. This place used to be safe at night but it might've changed in eighteen years.'

  Kyra threw her a mischievous grin. 'You said it hadn't changed a bit. But don't worry. I'll find someone to go with me. I know you said this village isn't huge but there must be people of my age here and I'm pretty good at making friends.'

  'Another thing you got from your dad.'

  The grin grew wider. 'Who knows. I may even find a boy I like. I was going to say man but that'd probably give you palpitations, wouldn't it? Even though, strictly speaking I'm now a woman.'

  'Everything gives a mother palpitations. That's something you'll find out for yourself one day. But hopefully not too soon.' Cat's smile faded. 'Oh God. Why did I need to add that bit? I've only been here for five minutes and I'm already sounding like my mother. Next time you hear me say anything like that, give me a good whack, will you? It's your life. You can have kids whenever you want, and with whomever you choose. Although I hope you won't mind if I give you my thoughts and feelings on the subject.'

  Kyra laughed as she walked back to the car. 'I'll discuss everything with you before I make any major decisions in my life. You know that. And I'll always welcome your thoughts and feelings on anything I do, or don't do. Just as I know you always welcome mine. Let's go and face our doom, shall we?'

  Cat laughed too. 'I expect it'll be more than a little unpleasant arriving at Granny Viola's, but doom is hopefully a bit strong. Although with my family, anything is possible.'

  They drove down the hill, across the bridge separating the village and continued past shops, restaurants and offices until Cat turned left into Channel View Lane.

  Kyra gasped when Cat pulled up outside Devon Villa.

  'Bloody hell, Mum! You said it was a big, Edwardian villa. You didn't say it was five storeys of grandeur overlooking the sea. Wow! This is really something. It makes Bonniemount Cottage look like a garden shed.'

  'It's grand. And it's just as amazing inside too. But Bonniemount Cottage was twice the home Devon Villa was. Grand isn't necessarily better, sweetheart.'

  'Oh, I know. I didn't mean anything against the cottage. I love it there. But this place is impressive. And you said it still feels like home, so it can't have been all bad.'

  'It wasn't. My childhood was good. And very happy. Granny Viola was wonderful, if a little prim and proper at times. Mum was kind and caring, amazingly. She wasn't around as much as Granny but when she was, she was great. It was only once I turned sixteen that things suddenly went downhill. Granny was getting aches and pains and grumbling all the time. Mum was panicking about getting old and dying alone, for some reason, and decided she needed to find a man to share her life with. Even though she'd always said – and so had Granny Viola – that the only luck Devon women have with men is bad luck.'

  'What?' Kyra shot her a worried look. 'You've never told me that.'

  'Haven't I? Well, it's probably because it's nonsense and not worth mentioning.'

  'Really? Um. Granny Viola's marriage was brief and ended badly, so you said. So badly that she changed her surname back to Devon, and she never married again. Your mum had you and you don't know who your dad is. She never married either, as far as we're aware. Unless she did so in the last eighteen years. And – I know this is horrible to say, but you and Dad weren't exactly lucky, were you? Plus you've had only one relationship since, and that's always been more platonic than romantic. Based on the facts, I think they may be right. Devon women are unlucky in love. I might as well give up right now.'

  Cat frowned. 'Don't say that. Although, when you look at our experiences, I suppose I can see what you mean. But please don't take it to heart. Life is what we make it, sweetheart. Yes, bad things happen, but good things happen too. I'm happy with my life the way it is. I don't want a husband. Neither did Granny Viola. She said one was one too many for her. And I feel very lucky indeed to have met your dad. Although we weren't together long, and we were very yo
ung, I'll be grateful for him my entire life. Especially as he gave you to me. And because of that, I'll always have a part of him in my life. Besides, everything comes in threes, so the old superstition goes. That means Granny Viola, Mum and me, have had the bad luck. So you'll have only good. Now do you want to stay in the car while I go and see if Mum's still up? The house seems to be in complete darkness. She may've gone to bed.'

  Kyra smiled. 'So we might be sleeping on the beach, after all.'

  'You take the beach. I'll have the car.'

  Cat gave her a playful tap on her leg and got out of the car, breathing deeply as she walked towards the sage green front door, telling herself repeatedly to stay calm, no matter what. She pressed the doorbell hard and closed her eyes for a second, not sure whether she wanted the door to be opened or not. She was about to give up and return to Kyra when the hall light came on and the front door was held ajar.

  'Hi. It's Cat. Catherine.'

  The door burst open and Mary Devon, looking like she'd stepped off the cover of a magazine, in her silk pyjamas and matching dressing gown, almost seemed pleased to see Cat, for a second. Just one tiny second. But the brief smile and light in Mary's eyes were quickly gone and were replaced with a granite-like expression.

  'You came then?'

  'Did you think we wouldn't?'

  'We?'

  Unbelievable. She was truly unbelievable.

  'Me and my daughter, Kyra. Please don't expect me to believe you don't remember Kyra.'

  'Of course I remember her. How could I possibly forget? But I'm surprised she'd want to come. I assumed she'd stay with friends or something. Although I didn't know what to think. How could I? I haven't seen you for eighteen years. Not since that night you ran away.'

  'It was the morning. Early morning that's true. But I left in the morning, not in the night. The second time, anyway.'

  'Ah yes. I'd almost forgotten you ran away twice.'

  'Forgotten! Bloody hell, Mum. How could you have forgotten? That's really something. Even for you. And of course Kyra wanted to come. Although no one could blame her if she didn't. But can we not start the unpleasantness right away, please? It's been a very long day and we're both tired. It was Kyra's eighteenth birthday yesterday and I'm telling you now, be nice. Or we'll be gone and you'll never see either of us again. Not that that would bother you, of course. But that's the deal. One nasty comment about her dad and we're out of here. Is that clear?'

  'Crystal clear. Does that mean you'll be staying here?'

  'Your brief letter said we could. It said I could, to be precise, but Kyra can share my bed.'

  'There's no need for that. You're well aware of how many rooms there are in this house. She can have the room next to yours. We don't use it so I'll have to air it and make up a bed.'

  'I can do that. Thank you. My room will need some airing too after all this time.'

  'It won't. We keep that aired, in case. Well, you'd better come in then. I suppose you want a cup of tea. And maybe something to eat.'

  Cat blinked. Had she just heard that right? Had her mum said they kept her room aired, in case. In case she came home? That was a surprise Cat hadn't expected.

  'Er. Tea would be good. But we've eaten, thanks. We stopped on the motorway.' She turned and waved at Kyra and Kyra got out of the car. 'Try and pretend you're pleased to see her, Mum. Please. If not for me, then for her. She is your granddaughter, after all.'

  Chapter Six

  'You're tall.' Mary Devon scanned Kyra from head to toe and a hint of a smile crept on to her lips.

  Cat flashed her mum a warning look. 'Mum. This is Kyra. Kyra, say hello to your gran.'

  'Hi,' Kyra said, smiling as she reached out her hand.

  Mary looked at it as if she wasn't sure what to do but to Cat's astonishment, she pulled Kyra into an awkward and very brief hug. But it was a hug.

  Kyra darted a startled look at Cat and Cat gave her a reassuring smile. Once she'd got over the shock.

  'It's good to see you again after all these years, Kyra. Come in. I'll put the kettle on. I think there's probably some fizzy drinks somewhere if you'd prefer. We keep them for the gardener.'

  'Tea's fine, thanks.'

  Cat smiled. 'We'll just go and get our bags, Mum. We'll be back in a sec.'

  'I'll be in the kitchen. Leave your bags in the hall for now and join me there. I assume you remember where it is.'

  'Unless you've moved it, yes. I remember.'

  Mary ignored the quip and turned and walked away, leaving the front door wide open. Cat and Kyra gave one another surprised smiles before linking arms and walking back to the car.

  'That was a bit of a shock,' Kyra said, as soon as they were away from the door.

  'You're not kidding. And for just a nanosecond, I could've sworn she was also quite pleased to see me. Perhaps this won't be as bad as either of us thought. She didn't even yell at me for getting her out of bed.'

  'This'll sound strange, but she doesn't look like I thought my gran would look. The only photo I've seen is the one you showed me years ago and she just looked like a mum, then. But I thought my gran would be plump and warm and sort of cosy-looking, even though I knew she probably wouldn't from what you've told me over the years. Does that make sense?'

  'Completely. You expected her to look something like Isla. Warm and loving, in a long, brushed cotton nightgown, a thick fluffy dressing gown and furry slippers, with glasses sitting on the end of her nose, soft grey curls bouncing around her face, a huge smile on her lips and her rosy cheeks aglow. Not tall, slim and perfectly tanned, with painted nails, an immaculate bob the colour of mahogany, and wearing silk pyjamas and a matching silk dressing gown. I was a bit taken aback myself, but only because I think she looked exactly the same that last night I saw her. She doesn't seem to have aged much at all. But then she's only in her fifties.'

  'What's Granny Viola like?'

  'Last time I saw her, an older version of Mum, only not as tall. And much older, of course. I suppose you'll have to ask Mum what she wants you to call her. You've never called her gran. You've always referred to her as 'your mum'.'

  They took the luggage inside and left it in the hall as Mary had instructed.

  'It's this way.' Cat led the way to the kitchen but Kyra stopped and peered into each room they passed.

  'How many rooms are there on this floor, Mum?'

  Cat smiled. 'Sitting room, dining room, TV room, a small library, study, cloakroom, utility room, kitchen and conservatory. So I suppose nine if you count them all. Upstairs there are three large bedrooms and a bathroom on each floor, apart from the attic. There's just one large room up there. Or at least, that's how it all was eighteen years ago. They might've changed things since then. I used to sit in the attic and watch the ships. There's a telescope up there and you can see for miles. You can see the stars too. And the moon looks incredible through its lens. You can also see the bay. And the airstrip of the museum, but you can't quite see the museum itself because it's hidden by the edge of the bay.'

  'What's hidden by the bay?' Mary asked. She was seated at a large, round, kitchen table with a crisp, linen table cloth of summer flowers and butterflies. In front of Mary sat a matching, porcelain teapot and cups and saucers on a silver tray, together with porcelain tea plates and a cake stand with an impressive display of small cakes.

  'The WWII Museum. This looks lovely.'

  Mary sniffed but in a very dignified fashion. 'I know you said you'd eaten, but you never used to say no to a cake with a cup of tea. Please sit down and help yourselves. Shall I be mother?'

  Cat bit back a laugh and a sarcastic retort.

  'Yes please. Er. Before I ask how Granny Viola is and exactly what happened, what would you like Kyra to call you?'

  Mary hesitated as she poured the tea and threw them a confused look.

  'Gran or Granny, I suppose. Or Mary, if you prefer. It may take me a while to adjust to being called Gran. But I'm sure I could become used to it. I really d
on't mind. You can decide, Kyra.' She resumed her task and, having filled three cups, she passed a matching porcelain milk jug and sugar bowl towards Cat and Kyra.

  'I'll call you Gran, or maybe Granny Mary, if that's OK?' Kyra reached out and took a mini battenberg.

  'That's fine.' Mary passed her a plate.

  'So, Granny Viola then?' Cat asked, giving Kyra a quick smile. 'What happened and what's the prognosis?'

  'She's in a coma. She fell down the stairs and was lucky she didn't break her neck. She did break a bone or two, but nothing overly serious. It's the coma, of course, that's the worry. The doctors told me yesterday she's a six on the coma scale. I had no idea there was such a thing but apparently there is. It's called the Glasgow Coma Scale and it's a tool used by them to assess a person's level of consciousness based on three things – eye opening, verbal response and voluntary movement. They each have various thresholds and are added together to get the total score. The lower the score the less likely the person is to recover due to more severe brain damage. I believe they said eight was the high score for most coma patients, so six isn't too bad, all things considered. Based on that, there's a possibility she may recover, but they're monitoring her and we'll have to wait and see. It could go either way, especially due to her age.'

  'How old is she?' Kyra asked.

  Mary looked at Cat and frowned before replying. 'Didn't your mother tell you? She's ninety-five.'

  'Ninety-five! Sorry. I didn't mean to shout. Gosh. That's old. Do they really think she'll recover?'

  'Why shouldn't she? She's fit and healthy for her age. And she's strong. And of course, she's a Devon.'

  Cat rolled her eyes. 'Like that's going to make a difference.'

  'It will,' Mary said. 'We Devon women are made of sterner stuff.'

  Cat couldn't disagree with that.

  Kyra helped herself to a second cake. 'I hope she does. I'd like to meet her.'

  The tiniest of smiles settled on Mary's lips. 'She'd like to meet you too. I'm sure. You'll go to visit her tomorrow, I assume?' She turned her attention back to Cat.