by Daisy Burton
Thinking of Marsh only confused her. He’d looked after her in his will, which made her feel guilty when she had negative thoughts about him. She did still love him, and decided she probably always would to a point, but it wasn’t the all-consuming, fairy tale love that she’d had for him before the Maire incident. That had been battered out of her and replaced with a dose of reality.
For the first time, she found herself considering the possibility that she could feel romantic about someone other than Marsh.
I don’t need a man to be happy, though. I can do it alone.
She reminded herself that she owned her own house outright, which she’d been renting out since she’d moved in with Marsh. Her tenants were settled and reliable and she had a good income. She needed to remember the old Sal – the one who had existed before Marsh. The Sal who did everything herself, cared about other people but pleased herself and knew herself. She’d spent years alone and she’d been incredibly happy. The very thought of going out and dating again filled her with utter dread anyway – in fact, the anxiety from merely thinking about it gave her reflux. She couldn’t stay laying down.
She gave up on trying to read and decided to check out her bedroom. She was halfway through unpacking when she heard Doug returning. Hurrying out to the kitchen to see what he’d got, she found him laden with fresh produce and a big bunch of pink and blue country flowers, which he thrust at Sal with a sideways grin.
“Oh!” Sal blushed. “You shouldn’t have, thank you. They’ll look lovely on the coffee table.”
She searched the kitchen cupboards for a vase and found one big enough to fit all the stems in.
“Ah, they’re for both of us, really,” Doug shrugged. “They’ll add a touch of colour and brightness. Look at these beauties though!”
He triumphantly unpacked a bottle of wine that was apparently made from local vines, in the same place as the truckle of cheese he showed her. Alongside those, he unpacked a big, fresh loaf of fluffy white bread, tea bags, local Devon milk, bright green salad leaves, tomatoes, sliced ham, butter, and a local newspaper. All of the produce looked rustic, being wrapped in brown paper, and it seemed somehow fresher and more succulent than ‘normal’ food. Sal realised her mouth was watering as she put everything away.
“Not bad for a couple of shops!” he beamed.
“All of this is amazing, but dinner’s on me tonight, okay?” Sal insisted. “We can have some of this for lunch tomorrow. Can we go to dinner soon? I’m starving!”
“Well, I saw a nice-looking bistro-type place on the corner by the bridge, if you fancy, or there’s a pub that does grub right opposite. Both less than a minute’s walk from here. You choose.”
They changed and she decided on the bistro, where they both tucked in to rustic pizza and a bottle of wine for an early dinner. Sitting on the tables outside, overlooking the same river that lapped below the flat, she laughed more than she had in months. Doug was good company and they entertained themselves quietly discussing the somewhat colourful local characters they could see from their vantage point.
Sal found herself looking at Doug as they talked, and watching his lips move. He had a nice mouth, she noticed, with full lips and his front teeth crossed ever so slightly. He had a full head of brown, wavy hair, which bobbed in the breeze where they sat. He had kind eyes, and a hypnotic voice, which she could listen to for hours.
“Sal? Shall we?” Doug interrupted her train of thought and she realised she hadn’t been listening.
He was pointing to the steps from the bridge that lead down to the ‘island’ she’d spotted from the flat, so she surmised that he was suggesting that they go and explore, to help their pizza go down.
“Yes, definitely, let’s go!”
It was only a short walk, but strolling along the water’s edge in the cool, late-spring air, Sal felt completely at peace. She reached for Doug’s arm as they walked, watching seagulls, swans, dogs racing after sticks, and people either scurrying somewhere important or wandering aimlessly around. At the far end of the island was a bench, where they perched to take in their surroundings. The water was calm, but quite high from all the spring rain, and the sun was quite warm on her face. She could see another eatery on the other side of the river, which seemed to be quite popular. It had quirky benches with umbrellas outside, and ducks on the patio looking for treats. The building itself seemed quite ancient.
Marsh’d love that place.
She felt a lump in her throat, but she forced it down with a hard swallow. He wasn’t coming on this trip with her.
“We can go there tomorrow if you like?” Doug broke into her thoughts, as he’d obviously spotted her checking out the building.
She shook herself, and blinked a few times. “Yes, that’d be lovely,” she smiled.
“Come on you,” Doug roused her. “Time for telly! Eurovision is on tonight isn’t it? That’s always a laugh.”
“Okay,” Sal giggled, convinced that he was teasing.
As they strolled back along the river, the sun was shining warmly on her back, and Sal bent down to pull off her sandals. Her toes squished the warm grass between them and she scrunched her toes up as she walked over to the edge of the river. This time, there was no bank and therefore no easy access to the river, but there was a shored-up side with a small drop to the water. It was good for sitting on and dangling toes in.
“You like getting your feet wet don’t you!” Doug grinned. “I’m not joining you this time, even if we are around the corner from the flat.”
Sal laughed, but she couldn’t reach the water with her hand to splash him without falling in. The water was chilly but not icy, and it felt lovely on her hot feet. She got up after a short dip, hooked her sandals around her fingers and started towards the steps to the bridge.
“Are you going to walk back like that?” Doug asked, looking faux-astonished.
“Of course I am,” she tutted. “It’ll be fine. It’s not far and it’s all smooth to walk on.”
And so, they sauntered along the pavement, back to the flat. It was more uncomfortable and harder to walk than she’d anticipated but she wasn’t going to give in and put her sandals on. A girl has to have the courage of her convictions and it was now a matter of principle. It wasn’t until she got back to the flat that she found she was bleeding slightly onto the polished oak floorboards.
“Oh, look at you! See? I told you,” Doug rolled his eyes but disappeared into the kitchen and came back armed with a plaster, kitchen roll and antiseptic cream. “There’s a first aid cabinet in there,” he smiled, reacting to her puzzlement. “Go on, park your bum on the sofa before you bleed everywhere.”
Sal watched as he gently cleaned her foot, which was only cut in one place. He dried it with such care and stuck on the plaster so gently, that Sal was quite touched.
“Thank you, lovely. I’m an idiot.”
“Nah, you’re just you. I like that,” he smiled.
*****
Sal’s feet spent the evening on Doug’s lap. It was a bit of a surprise that he got so genuinely into Eurovision, though, and he leapt around every time a good score came in, which amused Sal no end.
Eurovision was one of those things she tended to have on in the background each year. She didn’t mind watching it, but she was looking forward to spending some quiet time with Doug, reading her book and having a drink. This felt so normal and strange at the same time. Probably because she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt no pain, no pressure, no deadlines, no chores, only simple contentedness.
In between supping beer from the can, and cheering on Spain’s entry with a name that Sal couldn’t pronounce, Doug massaged her feet. He was careful to avoid the plastered bit and he didn’t ask if it was okay to do so, but she was surprised that it didn’t bother her. No one had ever rubbed her feet in that way before and she hadn’t realised how good it would be. It felt as if she was surrounded by a cloud of lightness and relaxation as she sank into the sofa.
&nbs
p; She was so tired from the long day that her eyes gradually closed and she woke herself up with a little snore. She was awash with embarrassment, despite the fact that Doug didn’t appear to have heard (or if he had, he was being kind and ignoring it), so she announced that she was turning in.
“Okay, sweets, nighty-night. Sleep well,” he said distractedly and intent on the telly.
Sal trotted off clutching her book with a grin on her face.
She slept like a log.
22
Sal decided she loved Devon, and most especially Totnes. The town was rural enough to feel that she was surrounded by nature, but it was enough of a town to have lovely shops and some amenities close by. It had a relaxed, peaceful vibe for such a popular place.
The High Street was unlike any Sal had seen. She noticed quirky little shops selling joss-sticks and crystals, and a clinic for acupuncture and all sorts of unusual therapies. There were also enough cafes to keep you well occupied for a month.
It wasn’t all new-age and funky though. There were some stunning buildings, including the old church that nestled half-way up the steep high street, and a beautiful, historic bridge that spanned the river at the bottom of town. Some of the buildings looked almost medieval, others Georgian, and some had gargoyles glaring from the eaves at the passers-by as they shopped.
The people were interesting too. They smiled and said ‘hello’ as she passed them, staff always chatted with her in shops, and they were so much more friendly than those in the south-east. They seemed totally accepting of people as they were, and she’d seen some characters who were dressed quite unusually. This was her kind of place, and it made her realise how judgemental her home town was.
She wasn’t sure if it was the place, co-incidence, or that she was plain exhausted from the last few months, but she found herself relaxing fully and sleeping far longer than usual. Doug was a perfect companion and they occupied the same space in gentle acceptance and respect. He was probably the easiest mortal to be around that she’d ever known. Too sarcastic? Definitely. Loud snorer? Even from the other side of the building he sounded like an asthmatic warthog. Nail chewer? Almost constantly. Smoker? Unfortunately, and frequently. He was human, but he was also the kindest, sweetest man and he was her saviour this week.
They spent their first full day in Devon hiking on Dartmoor, getting windswept and exhausted. On the way home, they’d found a wooded area, and a small car park that contained a soft whip ice-cream van. Investigating the wooded area, they discovered a crystal-clear, babbling stream and without a second thought she yanked up her jeans to her knees, took off her boots and socks and paddled. That little area with mossy stones and gnarly, old, ivy-covered trees, looked exactly as if fairies and pixies might inhabit it when all the humans had gone home. She licked her ice cream happily and giggled uncontrollably as she tried to stay upright with the force of the water gushing around her. Typical that Doug chose that moment to take a photo.
The next day, they found Berry Pomeroy castle and wandered around the sizeable ruins listening to a guided audio tour, drinking in the history and some ghost stories. To his credit, Doug only hid and jumped out on Sal once, but she screamed and almost fell backwards down some old stone steps, so he promised he wouldn’t do it again.
The same day, they ventured to the local Abbey, and although neither of them were religious, they both loved the beauty of the buildings, the windows and the gardens. They bought some mead made on site by the monks who kept bees, and agreed they’d drink it before they went back home. The peace of both places, along with the alcohol, helped her body to let go.
Sal felt as if all the worry, pain and heaviness she’d been surrounded with for so long had been left behind. There was some guilt at how it was possible to feel this calm, content and happy so soon after Marsh’s departure. He had been the love of her life – or so she had thought – but recently, things had shifted in her head. She forced away her thoughts of him as much as she could, and enjoyed the freedom.
Lately, it had seemed as if nothing stayed this good for long, and she found herself wondering what was going to go wrong. She fought that little voice in her head, though, and focussed hard on enjoying the moment. It was something she’d always been able to do with no effort, before all this. She had always believed that people were inherently good and that things would turn out okay in the end. But she’d lost that somewhere along the way, recently. Now, she found herself looking at people, wondering if they were genuine, and expecting the next disaster to happen.
But she was having such a fantastic time with Doug, and every day was a different adventure. She hadn’t laughed out loud this much in years and it made her feel like a different person. Being with Doug, who genuinely wanted to put her first, she felt cherished and more worthwhile than she had in a long time. She was so grateful that she had him as a friend.
Another day, they went to Salcombe and ventured out on an estuary boat trip. It wasn’t as calm out at the mouth of the sea as it had been in dock, and they were thrown around on the waves in their little boat. Sal never got seasick, though she noticed that Doug was starting to turn a gentle shade of green by the time the boat turned around. He soon perked up once the waves eased off and he spotted the seals languishing in the sun on the buoys they passed. She could tell he was glad to get his feet back on solid ground, though, so she dragged him to a little café to recover.
Sal tucked into fresh crab sandwiches in a little coffee shop overlooking the glorious deep-turquoise water and Doug seemed content with a huge mug of coffee and a homemade rock cake. It was obvious that he was avoiding the aroma of fresh crab as much as possible after the boat trip, though, and Sal turned to gaze out of the window as she chewed. She did that partly to avoid huffing crab in Doug’s direction and partly to take in the incredible view. She’d never seen water naturally that beautiful colour in Britain before, it looked like it should be in Malaysia or perhaps Bora Bora. She could dream.
Another day they did a ‘Round Robin’ trip from a dock that was only a short walk from the flat. It involved a boat trip to Dartmouth, a ferry to Kingswear, a steam train to Paignton and a double-decker bus trip back to Totnes. Sal couldn’t wait.
The boat had a narrative accompanying the journey and they learned about the places they passed, including the vineyard which had provided the wine that Doug had found when they first arrived. Sal hadn’t realised there was such a thing as British wine until she’d arrived there. They passed row upon row of vines, for what seemed like miles and they decided they should drink the wine that evening.
In Dartmouth, they had time to stop for a lunch of fish, chips, mushy peas and a mug of tea in a café that was fashioned from a real train carriage. It was the largest piece of haddock Sal had ever seen, and she could barely move after eating such a huge lunch. Doug didn’t have any problem in polishing off the same meal with a pudding on top and she watched him in fascination. She managed to get herself to the ferry across the estuary, and she was grateful for the steam train trip, so that she could let her stomach recover.
Paignton seemed to be filled with slot machines and kiss-me-quick hats, so they made their way through the crowds, down to the seafront and the pier. She was a demon on the penny drops, which always reminded her of being on holiday as a child. She was thrilled when she won a pointless little plastic prize, and even happier that Doug was merciless in his mickey-taking. Soon, they were on an open-top double-decker back to Totnes. It felt as if she had spent the entire day giggling. Marsh, Jess, and even Mel didn’t enter her head once.
*****
Every morning on the holiday, Doug woke Sal with a cup of tea and a digestive, and they spent the day exploring together. Every day, Sal fed the ducks and swans lettuce from the balcony, and watched as the blue tits and goldfinches visited the newly-filled seed-feeder. Every day, she and Doug ate in a different place, often by the river, and most days she got to paddle. She was so grateful he was there with her, and found herself wishing
she could stay like that forever.
On their last evening in Totnes, they decided to follow a recommendation they’d been made to eat at a pub in the middle of nowhere. Sal put on the nicest things she’d brought with her: a matching cream linen trouser set with silver thread patterns. And for the first time in the whole week, she wore make-up. Doug’s mouth dropped open when he saw her.
“Oh god, do I look awful?” Sal turned around to go and change.
“Good lord, no, you look stunning. I’m gobsmacked.”
They’d never have found the place if the lady in the local shop where they got their milk hadn’t recommended it and told them how to get there. At first, Sal thought they were going up someone’s driveway, the road was so narrow. But after about three miles of driving at 8mph around terrifying corners, high-hedged single-track roads and over the cutest hump-backed bridge, they finally found it nuzzled against a bend in a creek.
It looked like an old building on split levels, with benches and seats by the water’s edge. It had once been owned by a famous television chef, and it served mostly freshly caught, local fish. It clearly wasn’t cheap, but Doug had read up about it in the local newspaper and was determined to treat her.
“I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun down here on my own, sweets, so I wanted to take you out somewhere a bit upmarket,” he assured her. She knew that he wasn’t one for declarations, so she was touched.
“You’re so kind bringing me down here in the first place. I needed it much more than I realised,” she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
She decided they could argue about the bill later, but for now, she was going to order what she liked. Doug was, as always, the perfect gentleman, in stark contrast to Marsh. He had always treated Sal a bit like one of the lads – a lad he loved and adored, but still, a lad. She’d been perfectly fine with that at the time because she’d never felt the urge to be spoiled and treated like a lady. It wasn’t her; she was far more independent than that. So, she wasn’t entirely sure how to react when Doug pulled out a chair for her to sit down, or when he stood up as she went to the ladies. And yet here she was, loving every minute.
