by Kate Ryder
*
Sitting on the open decking, protected by the surrounding glass panels from any hint of a breeze, Oliver unzips his leather biker’s jacket. His mouth has turned dry and his heart hammers against his chest. It is her jogging towards the café. He was looking along the cove towards The Lookout on the cliffs when he saw her appear on the sand at the far end of the beach. At that distance he wasn’t sure if it was her. Was it just wishful thinking? But when the Yellow Labrador joined her, he knew for sure.
Oliver watches Cara jog along the sand, circled by Barnaby and two other dogs, and his heart swells with love for this woman who so unexpectedly entered his life. She looks so natural – a free spirit, at one with the elements – and he remembers how she seemed to him as a guardian angel fallen to earth. As she runs towards his end of the beach, talking and playing with the dogs, he notices how each animal responds to her. It doesn’t surprise him, the effect she has on all creatures. Cara’s beauty transcends skin-deep. All species recognise it.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ Janine asks, approaching his table.
Coming down to earth with a jolt, Oliver glances up. Before he’s had a chance, his face gives away his emotions.
‘Oh!’ Janine says, her eyes opening wide. Turning in the direction of the beach, she sees Cara running towards the café. ‘Windows to the soul, Oliver,’ she says, turning back to him. ‘You have to do something. Go to her.’
Oliver shakes his head sadly.
‘Look, I know it has nothing to do with me,’ Janine says, briefly hesitating before hurrying on, ‘but I can’t just sit by and let two beautiful souls screw up the opportunities presented to them.’ She moves to the edge of the decking as if to shout to Cara.
‘No, Janine,’ Oliver says more harshly than intended. ‘Let it be.’
Janine turns to him, a look of consternation on her face. ‘But why? It’s so obvious to everyone who knows you two.’
‘As you know, I’m married… with a family.’
And I’m a good-for-nothing depressive. I can’t offer her anything.
An anguished moan escapes Janine’s throat.
‘Timing,’ says Oliver sadly. ‘It sucks.’
Turning back to the beach, Janine sees Cara drawing nearer by the second. ‘Well, if you don’t want her to see you then I suggest you move inside now.’
With his heart screaming to stay and his feet reluctant to move, Oliver rises to his feet.
‘Now, Oliver!’ Janine says through the side of her mouth.
Forcing his mind to override his emotions, Oliver slips behind the open archway just as Cara arrives at the steps to the decking.
‘So, what’s with the gruelling workout?’ asks Janine in as casual a voice as she can muster.
Bent double, Cara glances up at her friend. ‘Hang on a mo…’ she pants.
Arriving at the decking seconds later, Barnaby trots up the steps and weaves his way through the tables.
‘Barnaby, here!’ Cara calls out after her dog. ‘Sorry, Janine.’
Janine watches as the Labrador looks round the pillars of the open archway leading to the café.
‘Hello, Barns, old boy,’ whispers Oliver, crouching down and holding out his hand. The dog eyes him soulfully, and then its tail wags vigorously as it moves towards him. ‘Don’t give me away. It’s our secret,’ Oliver says, affectionately rubbing Barnaby’s head. Immediately, the dog rolls onto its back with its legs in the air.
‘Barns, come!’ Cara calls out more forcefully. ‘Honestly, Janine, I don’t know what’s got into him.’ She makes to step up onto the decking.
‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ says Janine, blocking her move. ‘He’ll come back when he’s ready. So, how are things? How’s that commission coming along?’
‘It’s the largest piece I’ve ever done and quite a challenge, but I’m getting there.’
‘So you thought a run would give you a break from it?’
‘Greg’s putting on the pressure and I needed to clear my mind.’
‘Oh, tell him to go hang,’ says Janine with some passion. ‘Seriously, who does he think he is?’
‘Only a highly respected art critic and someone who’s opened up the art world for me, Janine.’
‘I guess so, but he shouldn’t manipulate you so.’
‘I think “manipulate” is being a bit strong,’ Cara says, giving her friend an odd look.
Janine arches an eyebrow. ‘Probably. What do I know? I’m just the owner of a beach café.’
‘You’re a lot more than that, and you know it.’ Glancing at her watch, Cara rises up onto the first step. ‘Where is that dog? I have to pick up the kids soon.’
‘How’s that darling little man of yours?’ asks Janine, aware that Oliver can hear every word.
‘Oh, just gorgeous! I have never known a baby so happy and content. Beth and Sky were pretty good at that age, but Toby wins hands down. He hasn’t been a moment’s trouble. I am so blessed.’
Behind the pillar Oliver stops breathing.
Janine smiles kindly. ‘Yes, you are.’
‘Where has that dog got to?’ Cara peers around Janine’s body. ‘Barnaby, here!’
From lying supine, the Labrador clambers to his feet. Gently, Oliver pushes him away.
‘Oh, there you are!’
Barnaby halts in the archway and glances back at Oliver before taking a step towards his mistress.
Cara frowns. ‘Barns, what have you been up to? Come here.’ Placing her hand on the fur at his neck, she steps down onto the sand. ‘Bye, Janine.’ Without looking back, Cara sets off at a jog once again.
‘You can come out now,’ says Janine.
Oliver steps out from behind the pillar. ‘What pressure is Greg applying?’ he asks.
‘Not entirely sure,’ says Janine thoughtfully.
Standing together on the decking, they watch Cara run along the sand with her faithful dog at her side. From out of nowhere, the spaniel joins them.
*
Cara is almost at the end of the beach when a middle-aged man approaches. He calls to the spaniel, and she stops.
‘Thanks for exercising my dog!’ he says with a smile.
‘He’s a handsome springer,’ says Cara.
‘That he is,’ the man says, ‘and he knows it.’
Against the ice-blue sky, a bright red kite skitters on a high breeze. It catches Cara’s eye and she follows its journey through the air, observing the young lad holding onto the end of its string. Suddenly, beyond the boy, a figure in the café’s car park grabs her attention. A helmeted biker, dressed in black leathers, straddles a shiny black motorbike. There’s something familiar and it niggles frustratingly at the edge of her consciousness.
‘Come on, Rex,’ says the dog walker, grabbing hold of the spaniel’s collar. ‘Time to go home.’
Cara can’t take her eyes off the figure on the bike. She’s certain the biker’s not casually looking along the beach but keenly regarding her. Tristan rides a motorbike, but it’s not him. Anyway, he would have ridden straight up the track to The Lookout. Who is it? She doesn’t feel threatened by the biker’s interest. Suddenly, the figure turns away and, the next minute, the motorbike crosses the car park towards the lane leading out of the cove. With a throaty roar, it disappears up the hill.
Cara surveys the now-empty scene, feeling strangely bereft. She turns in the direction of The Lookout.
‘Come on, Barns,’ she says, glancing down at the Labrador waiting patiently at her side. ‘Race you to the steps. First one there gets a biscuit.’
Thirty-seven
‘Hi. Is anybody home?’ Deanna calls down the hallway.
All white and chrome with pale ash floors, Pins’ stylish apartment is a blank canvas against which the flamboyant peacock struts.
‘In the drawing room,’ his voice rings out. ‘Come and join us.’
Deanna places her weekend holdall at the base of the stairs and enters the room. She smiles at her landlo
rd and his lover sitting cosily on the sofa. Looking like an immaculate, modern-day dandy, Pins is dressed in a purple three-piece suit with a coordinated purple Liberty print shirt. On anyone else the outfit would look ridiculous, but his incredible charisma pulls it off.
‘So, Deanna, how was your first weekend at home with Oliver?’ he asks. ‘Lovebirds, were you?’
‘He wasn’t there,’ Deanna says evenly. She’s still seething.
‘But, darling, that’s shocking!’ Pins exclaims.
Removing his arm from Dominic’s shoulder, Pins gets off the couch and approaches her. With the lightest of touches, he guides her towards the French doors. Shafts of sunlight filter between the surrounding huddle of houses into a walled courtyard filled with large architectural plants. Dusky mauve rattan furniture nestles amongst the foliage, and set against the far wall is a Moroccan-style tiled barbeque.
‘Just remember, Deanna, you are amongst friends here. We are all rooting for you.’
Deanna nods.
Casually, Pins places an arm around her shoulder. ‘It’s sad when spouses take each other for granted in a long-standing marriage. It’s good to give it a rattle and shake on occasion. But remember, darling, whatever you and Oliver are going through, rest assured we all support you. You are one of our high-vibe soul tribe, and I hope we inspire you to be the best version of you.’
Deanna smiles warmly at the good-looking, exuberant gay. A dream musketeer for any casting scout, that’s for sure. ‘Thank you, Pins. You always manage to bring a smile to my face.’
‘But of course! That’s what life’s all about, to have fun and adventures.’ He glances over his shoulder at Dominic sitting on the couch. ‘Isn’t that so, Dom?’
‘Yes. Fun adventures!’ the effeminate young man says, smiling at his lover.
‘Take some risks, enjoy yourself, do your own thing!’ says Pins with a flourish. ‘Your life is an emotional investment. Worship your being and treat it as if you’re having an affair with it. Buy yourself presents and pretty things. Flirt with it. Really celebrate who you are.’
He looks deeply into Deanna’s eyes. Caught off guard, she briefly forgets his sexual proclivity.
‘Now,’ says Pins, ‘Dominic and I are lunching at a new eating venue. Would you like to join us? It has a changing, seasonally inspired menu, so I’ve been reliably informed, and a short but clever wine list.’
‘That’s kind of you but I’m due at the theatre for three.’
‘Well, then, we’d better not detain you. But remember, darling, no overthinking. Life is for living,’ Pins says, planting an affectionate kiss on Deanna’s cheek. ‘Dom, let us away,’ he says, flouncing from the room.
Dominic rises off the couch and approaches Deanna. ‘You know,’ he says in a kindly voice, ‘if Pins wasn’t homosexual he’d be making a play for you right now.’
Feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, Deanna quickly turns away.
The young man smiles and places a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t worry. His captivating personality has that effect on us all. It’s to do with raised vibrations.’
‘Is that what it is?’ Deanna says, looking at him.
‘It is. It’s very seductive.’
Deanna nods. ‘Well, you’re very lucky to be his.’
‘And he’s very lucky to be mine.’
‘Of course,’ she quickly agrees.
‘Dom, are you coming?’ asks Pins, briefly appearing at the door. ‘Or are you chancing your luck with Deanna again?’
Dominic winks at Deanna. ‘See what I mean,’ he whispers. ‘If he wasn’t so taken by you he wouldn’t bother insinuating that it’s always me trying it on! It’s his way of keeping a rein on his emotions.’
‘You’re very wise, Dominic,’ says Deanna, feeling a little adrift.
‘Not really. I just know Pins through and through. He has an ego, but we don’t let him get away with too much. Despite the popular persona he likes to portray, he’s not as confident as people think. He’s very gentle, kind and nurturing, and he knows he doesn’t have to hide anything from me.’
‘You are right,’ Deanna says. ‘He is very lucky to have you.’
Dominic squeezes her arm.
‘We are going to be late,’ says Pins, appearing in the doorway again. Dramatically, he taps his watch.
‘OK! I’m coming,’ says Dominic. He smiles fleetingly at Deanna before turning away.
‘Honestly, Dom, your sense of timing is severely lacking,’ Pins lovingly scolds, as the younger man scuttles out of the door. ‘Now remember,’ he says, addressing Deanna again, ‘no overthinking while we’re away!’
‘I promise,’ says Deanna, feeling like an obsessed fangirl. As Pins blows her a theatrical kiss, to her shame she blushes.
*
Oliver parks the Range Rover outside the school gates and switches off the ignition. His journey back from Cornwall this morning passed without incident. Although he’s tried hard not to think about her, his mind keeps wandering back to Cara on the beach. She looked so healthy and wholesome, just as she is in his dream. Her natural beauty and God-given light fill his soul and he knows for certain – if there was ever any doubt – she’s been put on this earth for him. If only his circumstances were different. An iron fist squeezes his heart and the ‘grey mist’ laughs without compassion. Oliver sighs. There is no easy answer. He cannot split himself and be in two places at once. Despite the growing awareness of what a farce his life is becoming, his hardworking conscience reminds Oliver he made his bed many years before.
He glances at the building just as the school doors open and students file out into the playground. His wife has always kept such a firm hold on the family, organising them all with military-like precision, it now seems incongruous that she should abandon them to follow some pipedream. But, however dysfunctional his and Deanna’s relationship is, someone has to be here for the boys.
A couple of women waiting at the school gates spot him and he nods in acknowledgement. As one approaches he groans silently. Dressed in tight white jeans tucked into ankle boots and an equally tight, low-cut T-shirt, it’s his daughter’s best friend’s mother. He presses a button and the passenger window glides down.
‘Hello, Oliver. How are you keeping?’ asks Rosie’s mum, leaning in through the open window and exposing her ample cleavage.
‘Well, thanks, Jen. How’s Rosie?’
‘Loving her college course, but missing Sammy.’
‘Yes, the house is a lot quieter without Samantha around,’ says Oliver, raising an expressive eyebrow.
Rosie’s mum laughs. ‘I hear Deanna’s pursuing a career in the theatre! I must say, I’m not surprised. She did an excellent job stage-managing the local production. I guess it must have given her a taste for it again. I know Pins was very encouraging…’
That bloody man!
Oliver keeps a straight face. ‘Yes, she’s enjoying being back in the thick of things,’ he says vaguely, making sure he doesn’t give anything away to Rosie’s inquisitive mother. He nods in the direction of the school. ‘Here comes your Tim.’
The woman glances towards the building, as her son walks across the playground with Jamie. ‘It’s so sweet how Rosie and Sammy are best friends,’ she says, turning back to Oliver, ‘and now Timmy and Jamie are friends.’ She smiles brightly at him and her eyes sparkle as she adds, ‘If there’s anything you ever need while Deanna’s away you know you can always call.’
‘Thank you, but I think we’ve covered all bases.’
‘Well, if you ever find yourself at a loss.’ She looks at him beguilingly. ‘I know what it’s like when Brian’s away during the week. I’m always available if you ever need company.’ She makes no attempt to disguise the blatant offer.
Oliver stares into baby-blue eyes. ‘That’s kind of you, Jen,’ he says non-committally.
She holds his gaze for a long moment before turning away. ‘Hello, Jamie,’ she says in a sweet voice, and then turns to her son. ‘Tim, how ma
ny times have I told you not to drag your bag on the ground?’
Oliver lets out a long, silent breath. Children’s friends’ mothers! Over the years he’s had to deal with a variety of situations, but never more so than with Rosie’s mum. His daughter’s best friend has often suffered acute embarrassment due to her mother’s flirty shenanigans where he is concerned.
Jamie opens the back door to the Range Rover and climbs in. He places his school bag neatly on the seat beside him.
‘How was your day, Jamie?’ Oliver asks, looking in the rear-view mirror.
‘OK, but I’ve got loads of homework.’ The boy pulls a face.
‘Well, then, you’d better request something you’d like for tea before you start.’
