‘That came out wrong,’ he says quickly. ‘Not someone else in that way. It was to do with my father’s business. There was this girl. My father had gone into business with her father … I was supposed to marry her.’
While I’m still trying to get my head around that, he scrambles out of the tree and reappears from behind the trunk. ‘It was to cement the ties of the business. There was an assumption on my shoulders that she and I would get married and continue running their business together, and then pass it on for generations to come.’
I thought I was shocked into silence, but I take a step away from him when he comes closer. ‘You were seeing someone else at that time?’
‘No! God, no. Nothing like that. I barely knew her. We’d played together a few times when we were children and that’s it. My father had always made comments about it, but I’d taken them jokingly; I’d never thought it was something they’d actually expect us to go through with, but when he had that heart attack, it changed things. He had to hand the business over to me sooner than he’d planned. Her dad had invested a large sum of money into the company, and working with me wasn’t what he’d signed up for. He didn’t like how young I was. Everyone knew I didn’t have my father’s business head. They thought that marrying his sensible, business-minded daughter would “sort me out” and make me into an adult. And I was obviously never, ever going to do that, but my dad was so ill, and the guilt was piling up on me. I couldn’t tell him, Fee, not then.’
‘You make it sound like you were supposed to have an arranged marriage!’
‘You know who my father was. He was a huge name around here, and there was an expectation on me to carry on the business. He wanted me to do that with his business partner’s daughter, and what I wanted didn’t matter.’
‘You didn’t tell me,’ I say as he takes another step towards me. ‘We were so close, Ry. We told each other everything. Or so I thought …’
‘I thought you’d hate me. I was scared it would look like I was leading you on, but all I wanted was you, Fee.’
I can’t take all of this in. I know that what he’s just said should register in a monumental way, but it’s like I’m floating above, hearing it but not really present.
‘It wasn’t that big a deal before, not until my father realised I was head over heels for you and that didn’t fit with his plans. The pressure from him amped up. And then if I’d tried to explain it to you, I thought I’d lose you as a friend. And then that night under the tree … My heart soared when you kissed me and then sank because there was this thing I hadn’t told you about. It felt like I was betraying you and his expectation of me. I wasn’t “free” to be in love with you, Fee.’
‘That’s why you “couldn’t do this now”?’
He nods and reaches his hand out. ‘I thought I could deal with it without you ever having to know. It hadn’t mattered before, but when I met you … This vague, jokey thing suddenly did matter. I thought I’d tell him when he was stronger, but he never got stronger. When you said you were leaving … I couldn’t hold you back. I reasoned that it would give me a chance to sort the situation out. I thought I’d deal with it while you were away and then when you came back I’d be able to explain everything, but the years went by and you never came back, and … I couldn’t just randomly call you years later and go: “Hey, you know that situation I couldn’t tell you about all those years ago? Guess what, I finally handled it. Marry me now, yes?” You’d have had a life by then. I thought you’d have met someone, and you’d be happy and I couldn’t blaze in and ruin that.’
Something about his outstretched hand is impossible to ignore, and I slide mine into it and give his fingers a squeeze.
I often feel so jaded and cynical that nothing shocks me anymore, but this certainly has. I had no idea Ryan had this going on in his life. I knew about his father, and I knew how much Ryan didn’t fit in with the expectations on him, but this is the first time I’ve realised there was a reason he didn’t kiss me back that night. ‘What happened? Did you sort it out?’
‘Eventually. It only took me five years and an engagement.’
‘What?’ I yank my hand out of his. ‘You actually went through with it?’
‘No. I stopped it before it went that far. You don’t understand how ill my father got, Fee. It was the only thing that made him happy. I honestly thought refusing would kill him.’ He shoves a hand through his hair and sighs, his eyes lingering on mine before he eventually looks away and walks around the tree, going to stand by the barrier and look out at the sea.
I’m lost with how I should feel. I’m hurt that Ryan had this thing in his life that I didn’t know about. It changes the friendship I always thought we had. ‘You should have told me. You didn’t have to deal with that alone. I could have helped.’
I avoid Baaabra’s snoring form and walk around the tree to lean on the barrier next to Ryan.
‘Then I’d have had to tell you how I felt about you. And that was the second reason …’ He lifts his head and looks me directly in the eyes. ‘You deserved better than me.’
The sentence takes the wind right out of my sails. ‘What?’
‘This is a prime example of why. I wasn’t brave enough to stand up to my father. You deserved someone stronger than me, someone who didn’t have all the family baggage that I had. Someone who would put you first. And at that time, I couldn’t do that. And believe me, I’ve regretted it for every moment of my life since then because you left thinking I didn’t feel the same, and that wasn’t true, but I reasoned with myself that it was for the best, because you deserved a chance to go out and live your dreams and see the world, and if I’d kissed you back and explained everything, it might’ve made you stay, and that wasn’t what you wanted.’
‘What about you, Ry? You wanted to travel. You wanted to see the world. You wanted to live in a bustling city, and go on holiday to New York, and drive around France in a campervan, and walk on the beach in Bali, and eat dinner at the top of the Tokyo Tower—’
‘Exactly. And I knew I never would. When we talked about where we wanted to go, showed each other photos of all these amazing destinations, they were possibilities for you. They were only pipe dreams for me. I knew I’d be stuck here. I was destined to take over the family business, to live here in Lemmon Cove, nowhere else. I couldn’t hold you back. When my father had that heart attack, it changed everything. I was barely in my twenties, and it catapulted me to the head of his company – something I hadn’t intended to become until much later in my life, not until after I’d had a chance to live it. I’ve never once regretted taking over Sullivan’s Seeds because it led to meeting you, but it happening so young, so unexpectedly … It changed all of my plans for the future. Of all people, you know how much I was out of my depth.’
‘But that was your own lack of confidence. That was not how I saw you. Yeah, you’d been thrust into a business you knew nothing about, but you faced the challenge head-on. You learnt. You were innovative and ambitious. You breathed life into a stuffy old company. You made every day better. When it really mattered, you had a backbone of steel. The gruff old farmers who’d been growing for your father for years and were set in their ways … They were awful to you, and you took everything good-naturedly, but when it came down to it, you stood up to them kindly and firmly and left them with no doubt that they would be doing things your way from then on.’
‘And then you had to make me a cup of tea to calm down because I was shaking so much.’
I grin at the memory. ‘But you did it anyway. You were exceptional, Ryan. I wished I could be more like you.’
The sarcastic, disbelieving laugh he lets out cuts through me like a physical pain. Maybe it was more about his lack of confidence than he let on. On the surface, Ryan was funny and buoyant, but I was the only person who saw when he was hesitant and unsure, who understood that he rambled to cover nerves, sang stupid Nineties songs as a distraction or did stupid dances to wake himself up when he was knack
ered after being up working until all hours or unable to sleep for worrying about his father’s health.
‘You must think I’m stupid for never leaving. Even after I lost the business, I had to stay here and pick up the pieces. It went under because of me. I was too young, too inexperienced; I made bad business decisions and it caught up with me.’
‘The cucurbitacin poisoning was no one’s fault. No one knows how that happens or how to prevent it.’
He shakes his head. ‘That’s just one thing, Fee. One failure in a long line of failures I was responsible for. Wrong investments, bad suppliers, unreliable buyers. I couldn’t wreck the family business and then swan off into to the sunset. My family had no income. It was my responsibility to fix the mess I’d made. The one thing I couldn’t fix was us – the mess I’d made of losing you.’
‘You could’ve got in touch. No matter how many years had gone by. I thought I’d read you so wrongly. I was so sure we were more than friends.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Fee. I was trying to do what I thought was right in the wrong way.’ He drops his head down onto his arms. ‘God, of course we were more than friends. I could barely keep my hands off you. How many times daily did I find an excuse for a hug? I dragged you to every business meeting possible because I hated being away from you. You were the highlight of every single day. I nearly kissed you so many times.’
‘I nearly kissed you so many times! And that one night, it was a now-or-never moment, and I thought I’d regret it forever if I let it pass …’ I say to the sea instead of looking at him.
He doesn’t lift his head and his words are muffled through his arms. ‘You deserved someone who could give you the world, and I couldn’t.’
‘How could you ever think that?’ I know I shouldn’t touch him, but he’s right there, his head is still bowed onto his arms, and my fingers reach out and stroke through his dark hair. ‘You were the best thing in my life. You made every single day better just by existing. You might not have had confidence in yourself, but I thought you were the best thing in the world.’
He shudders as my nails brush through his hair and I go to pull my hand away, but his shoots out and grabs it as he lifts his head and turns to look at me. ‘You were going off on this big adventure. You were excited. You’d been talking about it for weeks. A flat in London. All the places this fancy new job would send you. The shops you’d go to, the things you’d buy with your new salary that was a hell of a lot higher than I could afford at Sullivan’s.’
‘Yeah, I wanted an adventure, but it came at a price – the cost of leaving you. All I really wanted was for you to tell me you felt the same. That would’ve been the best adventure I could’ve asked for. I left because I thought you were going to leave, and I was so scared of being left behind and seeing you go. It would’ve broken my heart, so I broke my own heart to protect myself.’
‘I’m sorry, Fee.’ His lips move against my skin as he keeps holding my hand against his mouth, his stubble scratching with every movement. ‘We should have had this conversation many, many years ago.’
He glances up at me, almost to gauge my reaction because he looks unsure about whether I’m going to wallop him or not, and then he pushes himself upright and uses his hold on my hand to tug me closer.
My other hand is gripping the top of the metal barrier fence, my knuckles white, and his grip is so tight that my fingers zip with pins and needles when he finally releases my hand.
‘Can I do something I should’ve done fifteen years ago?’ His voice is a breathy whisper, and I nod almost imperceptibly because I can sense what’s coming seconds before he surges forward and kisses me. A kiss that’s a million times different from the last time we were here.
I can’t help the whimper when his mouth finally touches mine.
A shiver of electricity goes through me. This is what I always imagined kissing Ryan would be like.
It’s both hot and heavy and soft and gentle. A kiss that’s been trying to burst forth for many, many years. My hands are in his hair, on his neck, clawing into his shoulders. He’s cupping my face with one hand, his other splayed out on my lower back, supporting me, even though I’m leaning heavier and heavier against him until eventually he sinks down to his knees, dragging me with him because I can’t tear my mouth away from his yet, not until we tumble over onto the grass. He lands with a huff and I let out a squeak. His arms tighten around me like a vice, holding me safely against him, and then pulling me tighter and tighter, splaying his hands out wider, like he can’t touch enough of me, until I can push myself up on one elbow and look down at him. I brush my fingers through his hair, stroke his face, and he pushes himself up until he can fit his lips against mine again, and I lose track of time as we lie there, snogging in the grass.
When I’m breathless and panting and can’t think straight, he says, ‘That was worth waiting for.’
And it makes me laugh so hard that I might actually be hysterical, even though he’s absolutely right – it was worth waiting for. ‘Next time, can we wait about fifteen seconds instead of fifteen years?’
‘Fifteen seconds is too long.’ He surges up to kiss me again, and then lets out a long breath and drops his head back against the grass and runs a hand over his face, looking dazed, possibly oxygen-deprived, and like he can’t get his head around this turn of events.
I’m not sure I can either.
Maybe our wishing tree really does answer wishes.
And I’m so happy that I can almost forget there’s still something I haven’t told him.
Chapter 14
That Saturday is opening day. It’s eight o’clock in the morning when I leave the house with three jars of jam Dad made last night, and although he tried to show me how to do it myself, the thought of all that fiddling with thermometers and straining and sugar boiling points was enough to bring me out in a cold sweat.
Even though the sun rose hours ago, the grassy verges are covered in early-morning dew drops, the first sign that autumn won’t be long in coming, and I get that familiar sinking feeling when I think of what the next few weeks will bring. Whether we save the tree or not … whether the strawberry patch is a success or not … I cannot stay here. I have to go back to London and somehow explain this whole mess to Harrison and hope he lets me keep my job. And when did I start saying “back to London” instead of “home”? I shouldn’t be thinking like this. London is home. Lemmon Cove hasn’t been for a long, long while. And yet the thought of not breathing sea air and scaring off flocks of sparrows every morning in favour of cramming myself onto a sweaty tube and breathing in pollution and exhaust fumes makes the stone in my stomach grow even bigger. And then there’s Ryan. Every time I think about leaving Ry, it puts me instantly on the edge of tears and I push the thoughts down, like if I just don’t think about it, it will never happen.
I’m dodging cars parked on pavements even at this time of day and the Seaview Heights car park is also packed, and I have to squeeze between cars to get in. They couldn’t all be here for strawberries, could they?
There are so many people that it feels like I’m already late. Tonya and Ffion are sitting at a table on the care home driveway, inviting visitors to their cake stall. Someone’s obviously spent half the night baking, because there’s a huge cake stand full of Welsh cakes, a pile of dainty china cups and saucers and a teapot with jugs of milk and sugar, and a big bowl of clotted cream.
‘Ooh, you are clever.’ Tonya grabs a jar of jam from my hand before I’ve fully removed it from my bag, unscrews the lid and plunges a spoon in, smacking her lips together as she tastes it. ‘I wish I could do that. Will you give me the recipe and full instructions before you leave?’
‘Oh, I was a bit rusty, my dad is really the—’ I stutter.
‘Fabulous!’ She shoos me out of the way to serve a customer wanting a cup of tea and two Welsh cakes, and that familiar guilt bristles at me again. They all think I’m something I’m not, and that I slaved over a hot stove for m
ost of the night in the kitchen, when all I really did was peer over my dad’s shoulder and try to take in what he was saying.
They’re not charging for the food, but there’s a donation box on the table and the man puts a couple of pound coins in and nods his thanks.
‘Now go and see your boy,’ Ffion says when the man leaves. ‘He’s got a real spring in his step this morning and I think we all know why.’
‘Ry’s not mine,’ I say, even though the words make me feel flushed and fluttery. ‘The spring in his step will be from all the sugar flying about from those Welsh cakes.’
Tonya fixes me with a knowing look. ‘The fact you knew who I was talking about says it all.’
‘Well, you were unlikely to be talking about Godfrey.’ I give her a wink. ‘Although you could’ve meant Mr Barley or that mankini-wearing Jeremy Corbyn gnome that’s … sticking out of the hedge?’ I squint towards it.
‘Picking blackberries, apparently,’ Ffion says. ‘We’ve given up on trying to stop Mr Barley now as long as they’re not naked or doing something that would scar innocent children for life.’
The care home owner, Steffan, is skulking around at the top of the driveway, pacing back and forth in front of the entrance to the white brick building. I watch as he does a circle of the building and returns, and I get the feeling he’s trying to keep his eyes on everything at once, and is maybe a bit overwhelmed by it all.
He catches me looking, and I give him a nod, and when he returns it, I try a wave that ends up coming out more like a salute. Maybe we should have got him involved in this. Everyone has treated him as an enemy because he’s selling the land, but he’s obviously having second thoughts, or I wouldn’t be here.
I see Ryan straight away when I walk into the strawberry patch, the temporary metal gates thrown aside to welcome visitors. He’s near the two trestle tables that have been set up as a checkout area and are currently manned by Godfrey and Mr Barley. He’s putting together make-your-own punnets ready for customers to grab and fill and then pay £2.50 for as they leave. There are already a few people putting strawberries into the recyclable handled boxes, taking their pick from the hundreds of plants.
The Wishing Tree Beside the Shore: The perfect feel good romance to escape with this summer! Page 21
