by kendra Smith
She grabbed the towel from under her arm and waved it at him. Grinning, he came running over, pulling at the zip of his wetsuit, then yanking it down. And then she saw it, a sudden memory of Greg coming out the water at Widemouth Bay, looking just like that. They’d had all their future in front of them too – and now look at them. I’m not sure if I can get over it. The pain.
‘Mum? What’s wrong?’
She shook herself. ‘Nothing,’ she said, handing him a towel.
‘No, you looked really weird, like you’d seen a ghost,’ he said grabbing the towel and vigorously rubbing his shoulders and then his back with it.
‘Watching you come out the water, it just reminded me of Greg doing the same, all those years ago, at Widemouth Bay, that’s all,’ she said, starting to walk along the shore.
Ed fell in step with her and they both followed the coast along a bit further in silence.
After a while, they stopped and Ed picked up some sand, letting it sift through his fingers. He looked out to the horizon where there was a ferry in the distance, on its way to Lymington.
Maddie stood next to him and burrowed her toes in the sand.
‘Where will you go when you’ve sold the cottage?’
‘Not sure, Ed, but I need to get away from here.’
‘But you love it.’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll find somewhere else.’
‘He’s really ruined things for us, hasn’t he?’
She glanced at him. ‘Who?’
‘Dad. Tim, I mean. I can’t stop thinking about all that stuff on the video. How could he do that to us?’
She’d had another letter from her lawyers yesterday confirming the divorce was nearly final. She sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Ed. Yes, he’s been deceitful, lost us our home, my sanity I think sometimes, but you know what?’ She brushed some hair away from her face. ‘I feel freer now than I have ever done in my life. Sad. But free.’
They walked along the beach a bit further. ‘Did you see her?’ Maddie asked.
Ed stopped. ‘Who?’
‘Olive – out there, in the waves, that’s where I scattered her ashes.’
‘Well, if those waves were anything to go by, I felt her, Mum; she was guiding me.’ He put an arm around Maddie and they carried on walking a bit further. Taffie ran in and out of the sea, snapping as the waves broke on the shore, barking madly at them.
‘Silly dog!’ She laughed as Ed then chased him in and out the waves, kicking up the water to cover the little dog. Ed strolled up to her, the towel draped across his shoulder
‘You really love him, Mum, don’t you?’
She turned sharply to look at him.
‘Greg,’ he said quietly.
There was no point lying. ‘Yes, yes I do, Ed, but I’ve had enough hurt and I don’t want any more pain between you two. You’re my son.’ She touched his arm.
‘I know, but I realise now, it’s not fair, Mum, it’s your life too,’ he said, pulling the towel with both hands. ‘You’ve been pretty sad since I got back. I’ve really been thinking about it. The shine has gone out of your eyes. I understand now,’ he continued, kicking the water with bare feet. ‘I mean, with Adity, I was thinking on the plane on the way back, imagine if I lost her, imagine if we couldn’t be together. That’s what it’s like for you, isn’t it? With Greg?’
She could feel her lower lip tremble and clamped down on it with her teeth. She stood for a while taking in what he was saying. ‘I just don’t know what he thinks anymore, Ed. I’ve lied to him and you’ve made it clear you want him out of our life – I mean, what must he feel? Hurt and betrayed, and it’s all my fault. And,’ Maddie said, breathing out a sigh, ‘I don’t know how to fix it.’
They made their way up to the coastal path, passing a few other walkers with dogs and wandered silently up the steps. Ed stopped on the bottom step and turned to her. ‘But I do,’ Ed said quietly. She almost couldn’t hear him with the noise from the gulls.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look, Greg’s not so bad. I was just so angry, so protective of you, Mum. But now, well…’ He shifted his towel over his shoulder. ‘I’ve talked to Adity, all that stuff about Tim, I understand a bit more. Anyway, I texted Greg about that job at the water sports centre this morning. He said I could start straight away.’
And with that one small statement, she felt just the tiniest glimmer of hope.
64
Two weeks later, Maddie was just adjusting her position on the sofa, rubbing cream into her left hand when there was a knock at the door. She got up gingerly and winced – she’d also taken a knock to her hip when she’d fallen over the BBQ and every now and then it would be painful.
Opening the front door, there was a little jolt of surprise to her gut. Greg was standing there clutching a cardboard box under his arm. He was wearing board shorts and a pale blue T-shirt, his hair a shaggy mess in the wind.
‘Hey there.’ He looked at her from under his fringe.
‘Hi.’
‘I brought you these. I popped into the charity shop. There was a box of unopened paints and a sketchpad. Unused. I thought you could do a little painting, keep your, er, hand in?’ He rolled his eyes.
She smiled at him, then stepped to the side to let him in, watching as his tall frame filled up the hall as he marched into the lounge, leaving a waft of sea air and sun cream in his wake.
‘I’m not staying long,’ he said, looking up at her as he placed the box on the table and carefully opened up the cardboard flaps. Her stomach took a kick of adrenaline when he said it and she forced a smile.
‘I popped in to see Sue who gave me these little plates, too.’
Maddie peered inside. There, amongst tissue paper were rows of small white plates. And next to them was a painting tray and brushes.
‘Oh, Greg, thank you!’ She grinned, carefully taking the paints out of the box and looking at them. ‘Sue’s been asking if I can do any pottery at home, so I can use these, they’re acrylics. I won’t be able to fire them, but I can still paint them,’ she said turning a plate over in her hand, ‘then I can varnish them and they could be used for decoration.’
‘I know. I looked it up.’
She glanced at him sideways.
‘I read about it online,’ he said, scuffing his deck shoe across the rug. ‘I had another look at your pieces when I was last in. All the ones on the shelf have sold. Sue showed me some of your mugs and plates. There was a guy in the other day – from one of the tourist offices, told Sue they’d like to stock your mugs and plates there, with all the other souvenirs of the island.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. Maddie was touched that he had taken the time to visit the café and talk to Sue.
‘You’ve got talent, Maddie.’ He glanced out the window and Maddie followed his gaze over the windswept sand, the fringe of the sea lapping at the edge. ‘Anyway, I told Sue I was bringing you these, to start you off again – see what you thought.’
‘I think it’s really kind, Greg.’ She sat down on the sofa next to him. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured carefully placing the tray of paints back in the box. It was a delicate dance they were doing with each other: together, apart, together and stop. What would today bring? She ached to be held by him, but she didn’t want to scare him away. She turned to him. ‘I was going to open some wine…?’ She held her breath.
He hesitated. Time seemed to stand still. ‘Sure, I’ll go pour us some.’ He stood up, sauntered into the kitchen, his boots clipping on the kitchen floor. She heard the cupboard doors click open and shut and the whoosh of the fridge being opened. He was so at home at the cottage.
As he came back in with two glasses of chilled rosé, he nodded to the window.
‘Look, you’ve got your inspiration right there.’ Greg tilted his head at a seagull perched on the fence at the bottom of the garden, with its head crooked, looking at them both.
She smiled. ‘Yes, I know. The view never fails to fascinat
e me, especially the colours the sea comes up with,’ she said taking a sip of wine and pulling her legs up underneath her. She could feel the fabric of her sofa on her feet, the soft weave of the cushion covers. ‘The hues of the water are amazing, and the best bit is every part of the day is different. Sometimes I watch it for a long time, the shades of blue, the sky angry some days, then peaceful the next. It’s like it has a spirit animal of its own.’
‘It probably does.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘And it changes when you’re out to sea – it can look as calm as anything from the shore, then when you’re out there—’ he shook his head ‘—it’s like you’re in the middle of the Atlantic some days, the weather can change in an instant.’
She looked out to the sparkling water as the sun shimmered across it in the hot August sky, tiny breakers foaming up across the water, the odd sailing boat appearing on the horizon. It was so peaceful you couldn’t imagine it any other way.
‘So how’s Ed getting on?’ She had been wondering for the last week, but hadn’t said much to Ed. He was normally shattered when he came in and she didn’t want to push it.
‘He’s OK. We’re working him quite hard. There’s a lot to take on when you first start, all the terminology, getting used to how to deal with the kids, the safeguarding talks, new staff.’ He smiled. ‘He’s doing fine.’
The air was hot and sticky and little rivers of condensation ran down her wine glass pooling over her fingers. She reached out and gently touched his arm with her free hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For looking after Ed – and for the paints.’
He put his hand out as if to touch her fingers, then abruptly put it in his lap and frowned.
‘Listen, Maddie, I wanted to say sorry, for last time, when I got so angry. I just, you know, one minute you’re going down one track, having lived a certain life, then the next, you’re a father to a nineteen-year-old… It takes some adjusting.’ He took a gulp of wine. The condensation from his glass shimmered in the late afternoon sun as a golden glow fell over his cheek.
‘I’m the one who’s sorry,’ she murmured, running a finger over the rim of her wine glass, listening to the call of a gull outside and closing her eyes.
Greg broke the silence. ‘Have you thought about painting some canvases?’ He nodded at the paining on the mantelpiece of the bay. ‘Maybe sell those too?’
And there she was, back at uni with the man who made her feel special. He managed to push her insecurities to the back of her mind. She could still conjure up that empty feeling when the cool girls sniggered, nudging each other in the ribs; here comes Mediocre Maddie. Never picked for the netball team even though she was one of their fastest sprinters.
But Greg had stopped all that; she felt magical with him. Mediocre Maddie was forgotten.
He believed in her.
‘Maddie?’
Suddenly she was back in the room with him. ‘Sorry miles away,’ she said as they both stared at the painting on the mantelpiece.
65
August drifted by without warning. Maddie noticed as adverts popped up for school uniforms and new terms on the TV and on her Facebook page and she realised another new season was ahead.
The days had settled into something of a new routine. Ed was enjoying his job at the water sports centre more and more; he wasn’t always working with Greg, but as interim manager of the centre, Greg did oversee much of what went on, and on several days Ed would come back with tales of children getting up to mischief, how they’d go out of their depth, take the wrong canoe out, or fail to secure their windsurfer properly and how he and Greg had managed to sort it out.
Maddie started her pottery again at Shore Café. She wasn’t working her full hours yet, though it was apparent that Sue was relying on Maddie more and more as the weeks went on. ‘You could run the place yourself, pet,’ she’d said as she winked at her the other day. Her hands had healed quite well, but she still couldn’t do any of the washing up without wearing special gloves. Her crockery was selling fast and she was also stocking the tourist office; she put time aside most days either in the garden or at the beach, to sketch or paint. It was her therapy.
The evenings were long and glorious. It had been a magnificent summer. Some evenings she and Ed would take a picnic and a rug down to the beach and share a meal on the sand, watching the holidaymakers. Maddie was always thankful that she didn’t then have to pack up and drive any distance home. She could just walk back to her cottage, water the flowers in her rockery, sit with a glass of wine and listen to Radio 4, paint, sketch or read a book. When they didn’t head to the beach for a picnic, they’d have a tray supper watching bad TV then both collapse into bed, tired from their day’s work. And repeat.
She hadn’t seen or heard from Greg for several weeks after he’d dropped off the painting kit, and she knew in her heart that this was going to be her ‘new normal’ now, an uneasy kind of friendship. Some days the thought of what they could have had would be like a jolt of pain to her stomach, but she contented herself with the fact that he and Ed were getting on. It was all she could hope for. The sooner she got on with selling Maris Cottage, the better. She was glad she’d decided to put the cottage back on the market, but disappointed each time there was a viewing and nothing came of it. She wanted to move on.
It was Wednesday and for the last week or so instead of cycling, Greg had been dropping Ed home on the occasional day as his bike was playing up and it was incredibly hot. When his truck had first pulled up a couple of weeks ago, her heart had been in her mouth, but she’d just heard him say goodbye to Ed. The door had slammed and he’d driven off. It happened several days a week and she’d trained herself not to look out the window.
I don’t know if I can get over it.
Now, she heard the truck pull up. It was five o’clock and she’d had a particularly long shift at the café already. Sue had been ill that morning, and she was there on her own most of the morning looking after the place with a steady stream of tourists wanting tea and cakes, scones, iced coffee and toasted cheese sandwiches. She’d also been kept busy wrapping up pieces of pottery – her pieces were selling well, especially the ‘bespoke’ pottery with peoples’ names, significant dates or just ‘Summer 2019’.
Today had ended with cashing up, mopping floors, stock-taking and clearing out the fridge. She had just come in from taking Taffie for a short walk, and had made a pot of tea when she heard Greg’s voice at the door with Ed. They were laughing as the front door opened.
‘Hiya, Mum,’ Ed shouted. ‘Greg’s here – he just wanted to nip to the loo.’
She stood in the kitchen watching the steam furl and unfurl from the kettle as her heart thudded. She popped her head round the doorframe.
‘Hi there! I’ve just made a pot of tea and there’s Victoria sponge left over from the café.’
‘Oh. I wasn’t, um, going to stay.’ Greg looked awkward. ‘We worked Ed pretty hard today, he – and I – are bushed.’ She stood looking at him. He was dressed in a navy-blue T-shirt and dark green board shorts, still damp from an afternoon’s sailing. His sunglasses perched on his head glinted in the sun from the front door. He looked thinner.
Ed walked past Greg and into the hall and punched him playfully on the shoulder. ‘C’mon in,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You might as well. Mum doesn’t often have cake. I’d get it whilst you can!’ Ed clomped into the kitchen and she could hear him scrape a chair back. Greg remained on the doorstep, twisting his watchstrap around. He started to turn away, then seemed to think better of it. ‘All right,’ he said, turning back around, and she could see the beginning of a smile. ‘One piece.’ Her heart gave another thud. Just a little one. One piece. Yes, one piece of her broken heart had just been mended.
‘I’ll use the loo first, though.’ And he went into the small toilet by the front door.
She went into the kitchen and she tried to steady her hands. She assembled plates, knives, forks and cups from the cupboard. Ed brought the pot
of tea over to the table.
Maddie sat between them as they talked about the day’s sailing, about how a little boy had to be rescued on his windsurfer, and how the teachers on school trips were more difficult to control than the kids. She watched Greg’s mouth twist and turn, then smile. Watched as he put his hands up to his slightly sunburnt forehead, as he lifted a moist, crumbly piece of sponge to his lips, slid the fork in, licked his lips then grinned. She studied the shape of him, the lines, the softer parts, the angular set of his jaw.
‘Yeah, it happens all the time, no matter how many safety talks we give them explaining the rip in that area. They aren’t used to the currents we get here – they’re pretty strong.’
‘Oh well, good job you saw them,’ Maddie said.
‘We give them fifteen minutes, and if they can’t figure it out, we go get them. It’s not worth them getting exhausted and terrified; we want them to learn, but not get so scared they’d never go out again.’
‘Right,’ Ed stood up. ‘I need a shower.’ He placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder as he left. ‘Thanks for today. That group was a handful!’
‘No worries,’ Greg said and went to get up himself. ‘You did really well.’
‘You leaving?’ It was out of her mouth before she knew it.
He gave her a tight smile, nodded and then headed for the door.
66
Sue was twisting a silver bead from her necklace between her forefinger and thumb and staring at Maddie. The café was quiet.
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Well, look how well the cups and mugs sell – but we could make more money, Sue, and give the café a boost too, if we ran a few workshops. Nothing too fancy. Just, say, one a month – get ten people interested and teach them how to do some basic painting. They pay for the workshop, they pay for their tea, coffee, we can bring in some wine, Prosecco and so on, nibbles and cake, and they get to take the produce home. Create a fun atmosphere. It’s a win-win. They have a great time, do something fun, we use the café ‘after-hours’ to make more money on it, and they have something to show for it at the end.’
