A Reunion

by Emily Harvale

  Thankfully, since that day at Bella Vista, Kyra hadn't mentioned him. Cat had thought she might, after the revelation in the service station car park the day they had driven down. But Kyra hadn't said one word about that conversation since, or the things that Annie had told them over lunch on the August bank holiday Monday. It was almost as if it hadn't happened. For which Cat was extremely thankful.

  Although she had never lied to Kyra about anything before or after that conversation, she hadn't told Kyra the entire truth.

  The one thing she had kept from her was that although it was true that she had fallen in love with Kyle and definitely was grateful every day that she had met him, Amias Wells didn't become history as far as she was concerned.

  She continued to love him all the while she dated Kyle. Even when she discovered she was pregnant, she still loved him. And after Kyle died, she continued to love Amias bloody Wells. It seemed no matter what she did, she could not get over Amias. She could not stop loving him.

  Which was more than strange to say the least because she told the truth when she said she loved Kyle with all her heart.

  She had.

  The problem was she loved Amias with her soul.

  She loved him with every inch of her being. And somehow, she thought she probably always would.

  And that was another reason why she had run away that day, just ten weeks after Kyra's birth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amias spotted her the moment she walked on to the beach and he watched her saunter towards him although she wasn't looking in his direction; she was looking out to sea, no doubt watching the various people having fun on the water, most of whom were his pupils.

  'Hi,' he said, when she got near. 'I haven't seen you around here before. Are you here on holiday?'

  He was smiling so hard he probably looked demented but that was preferable to grabbing the kid and giving her a massive hug. Which was what he wanted to do. That would really terrify her.

  'Hi. Not a holiday, exactly. Just a visit.'

  She smiled back and tugged at several long strands of ginger curls that the warm breeze had blown across her freckled cheeks. A watch that was clearly far too big for her, dangled from her slim wrist. He recognised it right away. Just as he'd recognised her. She was the spitting image of Kyle at eighteen – only female.

  'Oh? That almost sounds as if you'd rather not be here.'

  'Oh no. I'm glad I'm here. Very glad. Are they your sons?'

  She nodded towards the sea where Lucas flew across the waves on his kiteboard, and Marcus tumbled into them from his windsurfer.

  Amias cleared his throat. 'No. I don't have kids. They're pupils of mine. Well, not the one in the air. Not now. He can probably teach me a thing or two. But his cousin, Marcus is still learning the ropes.'

  'So I see. It looks difficult. You teach people to do that? Anyone at all?'

  She pushed her sunglasses on to the top of her head and gave him a smile so full of hope that his heart thumped against his chest. In that moment, she reminded him so much of Cat it was as if the clock had turned back nineteen years – to the very first day Cat had walked up to him and smiled. Weeks before she had met Kyle, and a year before that terrible day that ruined three people's lives. More than three, if you counted Kyle's parents. But Amias didn't.

  Unlike the answer he'd given Cat that day when she'd asked the exact same question, he smiled at Kyra.

  'I try. The thing about windsurfing and also kiteboarding is you need to have balance. That sounds weird and you'd think everyone can balance, but they can't. As Marcus is demonstrating, some people find it hard. It's about having a strong core and finding your centre of gravity. To some people it comes naturally. Others have to work at it.'

  'That sounds very zen-like. Mum and I do yoga. We've also both done ballet, although now all we ever do is dance around the kitchen. And not altogether gracefully, I might add.'

  Her laughter sent warmth rushing through him. Not sexual heat. That would be creepy. It was the kind of warmth he felt when he was at his sister's, or in the company of a loving family. And it was a feeling that unnerved him.

  'In that case, you'd probably take to it like a duck to water. I can give you a free taster lesson if you like. As you're eighteen, you won't need parental consent so there's no need to ask your mum.'

  'How did you know I'm eighteen?' Her green eyes were wide and her lips slightly apart in surprise.

  He shook his head. 'I just assumed. You look eighteen.'

  She relaxed and laughed. 'Oh yeah? I'm not sure if that's good or bad. We women usually prefer to be told we don't look our age.'

  'Hardly something someone like you needs to worry about, is it?'

  A tiny crease formed between her brows, but it was quickly replaced by a cheerful smile that lit up her eyes. She had her mum's smile. She also had her mum's, almond-shaped, cat-like eyes. That was why he had first called Catherine, Cat – a name that seemed to have stuck. At least while she was dating Kyle. Did she still refer to herself as Cat? Or had she reverted back to Catherine the moment she had left?

  Kyra was laughing. That laugh was Kyle's. 'There're only two things I'm worried about right now. One is whether or not I'm going to make a complete idiot of myself in front of everyone. And the other is that I've got to put on one of those wetsuits. Although that guy on the kiteboard isn't wearing one.'

  He glanced at Lucas, riding the waves and reaching heights that would terrify most people as the wind filled his sail, lifting him and his kiteboard high into the air.

  'Wetsuits are optional. But with your complexion, I'd advise it. Either that or a T-shirt and shorts. You look as if you've caught some sun, but you'd be surprised how quickly you can burn out there on the water. The last thing you want is to be burnt red raw. Especially as you'll be aching enough from the exertion and the fact you'll be using muscles you may not have used before.'

  'That's not a very good sales pitch, if you don't mind me saying. Shouldn't you be telling me how fantastic I'll feel riding the waves with just the power of the wind, and flying through the air with the warm breeze on my skin?'

  He laughed. 'Need a job? You make it sound exhilarating.'

  She laughed too. 'Are you saying it isn't?'

  'Not for the first few times. Probably not. Most people spend several hours falling off the board and climbing back on. That can be exhausting. But as you obviously keep yourself fit, you won't tire so fast. Want a go?'

  'Definitely. But I can't today, I'm afraid.' She glanced at her watch. 'I'm meeting Mum for coffee in the market at 10 and I'll be late if I don't get a move on. I could ring her and she'd be fine if I wanted to do this instead, but I don't have a swimsuit with me. Can I come tomorrow?'

  He nodded. 'Of course. I'm here every day. Unless I'm at my other site. That's at Wyntersleap Reservoir a couple of miles inland. It's where I take some beginners. But I've got a feeling you'll be fine learning right here.'

  She narrowed her eyes slightly. 'I'm only doing the taster lesson. I'm not committing to a course or anything. Yet.'

  He shook his head. 'Right. Yes, of course. I know that. What I meant was that you'll be OK doing the taster in the sea. It doesn't matter. We can talk about it tomorrow. I'll definitely be here all morning.'

  She smiled. 'I'll see you tomorrow then. Oh. What's your name? Just in case you're not around and I have to ask.'

  'My name?' He coughed to clear his throat. He'd sounded like he was being castrated. 'Er. I'll be here. Don't worry.'

  She screwed up her eyes. 'You don't want to give me your name? Should I be worried?'

  He forced a grin and swallowed hard. 'Absolutely not. You've got nothing to worry about from me. I can promise you that. It's Amias.'

  'Amias!' Her eyes opened wide, as did her smile. 'Amias Wells?'

  His smile disappeared. 'Y-yes.'

  She laughed. 'Now you're the one who looks worried. No need. I assure you. My mum mentioned you, that's all. Her name's Cat. Cat Devon.
You knew each other once, many years ago.'

  His fists clenched at the mention of her name, and so did his jaw but he tried to look thoughtful. 'Cat Devon. Hmm. The name does ring a bell. Oh yes. I remember. She dated a friend of mine a very long time ago.' He hadn't meant to make it sound quite so casual.

  Kyra moved closer to him and looked him in the eye. 'That was my dad. I'm Kyra. Kyra Devon. My dad was Kyle Morris. It's good to meet you, Amias Wells. Very good indeed.'

  'I don't think your mum will agree with you on that.' What the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn't have said that.

  'I think you might be surprised.'

  'I would be. Very. But it's so good to meet you, Kyra.'

  She looked at him for a moment and it was as if she was taking stock of him. Then she nodded, reached up for her sunglasses and slid them back in place, glanced over the rims and smiled.

  'See you tomorrow, Amias Wells. I'm looking forward to it.'

  She turned and ran along the beach, waving behind her as she went.

  Amias was looking forward to tomorrow too. And to spending time with the daughter of his best friend.

  The daughter he almost wished, was his.

  Chapter Sixteen

  'What's in this trunk, Mum?' Kyra tugged at a large leather trunk situated near a chair in Granny Viola's bedroom.

  Mary had asked them to help her declutter the house. Regardless of what happened, she was determined to go through Devon Villa from top to bottom to see if there was anything they could sell, give to a charity shop, or possibly throw out. She was beginning her 'downsizing' and although she had left her mother's room until last, she had finally said it was time to make a start. But she had left Cat and Kyra to it and gone to make some coffee.

  'I'm not sure, sweetheart,' Cat said. 'But I've always wanted to know. I remember seeing Granny Viola sitting in that chair and the lid of that trunk being open. She was looking at a photo, I think, and there was a pile of letters in her lap. When I came in and asked her about them, she held them to her chest before putting them back in the trunk, closing the lid and telling me that some things were private and that they weren't meant for my eyes.'

  'Did you leave it at that?' Kyra looked a little surprised. 'I think that would've made me even keener to know.'

  Cat laughed. 'It did me. But every time I asked, she said it didn't concern me and I should learn to respect people's privacy. And the trunk was always locked.' Cat shook her head. 'I'm ashamed to say, I crept in here more than once and tried to open it. I even admit I searched for the key but couldn't find it.'

  'This key you mean?' Kyra pointed to the key in the lock.

  Cat's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open.

  'I can't believe that's sitting there like that. She always kept it on her, I'm sure she did.'

  'Can we open it?' The thrill of excitement made Kyra's voice rise and her smile was huge as were her eyes.

  'I'm not sure we should. As Granny always said, it's private.'

  'Yes, but Granny Mary asked us to clear out anything we think we can. It's only right that we take a look and see if there's anything in the trunk we can sell, give to charity or dispose of. Just a quick look. And Granny Viola will never know.'

  Cat gave her a look of reprimand but she smiled. 'That doesn't make it better. As keen as I still am to know, it somehow feels wrong, with Granny Viola being in hospital. We'll ask Mum and see what she says. If she says we can, then fine, but if she says no then we shan't. OK?'

  'If I say you can or can't what?' Mary appeared in the doorway with a tray, a plate of chocolate biscuits and three mugs of coffee. She had finally agreed that the posh porcelain didn't need to come out at every hour of the day. And that more coffee could be poured into a mug than a china cup.

  'Oh. It's Granny Viola's trunk. The key is in the lock and we were wondering whether or not we should look inside.'

  'Really?' Mary hurried over to them, slopping coffee on to the tray in her excitement. 'I've wanted to know what was in that trunk my entire life. But it was always locked and I could never find the key. Oh. I suppose I shouldn't admit that, should I? But if the key's in the lock. Well, I think that's Fate, don't you? It's as if mother is giving us the go-ahead to open it. Do the honours, Kyra as you're there.'

  Kyra glanced at Cat before slowly turning the key and lifting the heavy lid.

  The three of them peered inside. Amongst some items of clothing, a few bunches of dried flowers and a small pile of photos were a stack of letters, the ink fading and the corners curled as if they'd been handled many times. And yet when Kyra picked them up and turned over the ribbon tied stack, the first envelope was sealed. She flicked through the pile of ten or more letters, all with the same handwriting and all addressed to Miss Viola Devon, Devon House, Channel View Lane, Merriment Bay, Sussex, and not one of them was open.

  'How strange,' Cat said.

  'They could've been opened and resealed,' Kyra suggested.

  Mary shook her head. 'No. If they had they'd be damaged. Even if they'd been steamed open and resealed, there would be some sign of that. You can see that these are as they were the day the sender licked the envelope and sealed it down.'

  'And who's this?' Kyra asked, picking up a photograph that had fallen to the floor while she had flicked through the letters. 'It was in amongst them. It's a man. A very handsome man and he's in uniform.'

  'Let me look, please.' Mary held out her hand and Kyra passed her the photo. She studied it for a while then handed it to Cat. 'I've never seen that photo before, or that man. He's definitely not someone I ever met. I'd remember a face that handsome.'

  Cat shook her head. 'You're right. I'd remember this face too if I'd ever seen it before. I wonder who he is.'

  'He must've been someone special for Granny Viola to save his photo and probably his letters and keep them all in a locked trunk. But he also must've done something to hurt her, don't you think? Because why else would she hide the photo amongst the letters and leave the letters unopened?'

  'That hadn't even occurred to me.' Cat threw Kyra a smile. 'I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm glad you got your brains from your dad and not from me.'

  'Can we open them?' Kyra asked.

  They all looked at one another.

  'I'm not sure we should,' Cat said. 'I'm not saying I don't want to because I do. I really do. But as you said, Kyra, Granny Viola left them sealed for a reason. She also kept them locked in this trunk. I'm not certain we should invade her privacy to that extent. Especially given her condition.'

  'But, Mum. What if something bad does happen? We'd have to open them then, wouldn't we? To see if we'd need to contact the person to tell them about Granny Viola.'

  Cat shook her head. 'Those letters look as if they've been there for years. The sender may have passed away. And if Granny Viola never opened them, I hardly think the sender would be someone she would want us to contact in the event of ... of anything happening.'

  'Or he may be someone we should definitely contact. Think about it, Mum. You and Granny Viola hadn't been in touch for eighteen years, but as soon as you got Granny Mary's letter, you raced back here. This man clearly meant a lot to Granny Viola. You said you'd seen her hugging a photo and a pile of letters to her chest when you asked her about them. These letters. Perhaps he's a lost love. Perhaps he and Granny Viola wanted to be together but Fate kept them apart. Or maybe she didn't open them because she knew they would ask her to do something she felt she never could. Or perhaps he died in the war and she got these letters afterwards and couldn't open them because she knew they would break her heart even more.'

  Mary had been strangely silent but she shot a look at Cat.

  'I think we have to open them. Or at least one of them to see who he is and what part he played in my mother's life. She may be furious when she recovers but we'll spend every day wondering about them if we don't.'

  'Mum?' Cat placed a hand on Mary's. 'Do you really think we should? Unless I'm mistak
en that's an RAF uniform he's wearing and by the looks of that photo, it was taken in the 1940s. Perhaps even during the war. And unless I'm also mistaken that building behind him looks very much like the WWII Museum, only as it was during the war when it was an actual RAF base. If he was stationed there, we might be able to find out who he is before we open the letters. There are lots of photos at the museum and several of them have names and dates. And I know there're records of who was stationed there throughout the war. Even who died, or was reported as missing and such, because I've seen them. I remember Am ... being shown them once. I'm not sure if all the records are open to the public, but they definitely exist. It's worth seeing if we can find out, isn't it? I simply don't want us to do something we may regret. And I don't know why, but I have the strangest feeling that we may regret opening these letters. As if all our lives might change. I know that sounds ridiculous. But I do.'

  Cat handed the photo back to her and Mary studied it again.

  'Well one thing I know for certain is he's not my father. I've got photos of him taken in the early sixties and he couldn't have changed that much in twenty years. Besides, I was born in 1965 and he and my mother were only married for a couple of years before that. This must be someone she knew long before she met my father. I definitely don't know this man. But I would very much like to know who he is.'

  'The letters will probably tell us,' Kyra said, waving them enticingly before all three of them.

  'I'm sure they will. But perhaps Catherine is right. I'd dearly love to open them but perhaps we should see if we can find out who he is first. Mother has kept them under lock and key for years. She must've had a reason. As enticing as they are, waiting for a week or two to open them won't hurt. She may be awake by then and if so, we can ask her. In the meantime, a trip or two to the WWII Museum might prove fruitful. I haven't been to the place for years. I'm not even sure who works there now. But I do know Amias Wells and William Lester became joint owners a few years ago. Which may prove to be rather handy.'