by Jane Linfoot
‘Poor Quinn.’ Kip blows out a long breath. ‘Not that I’m excusing him, but losing our mum as teenagers hit us all hard. Short term seductions were Quinn’s way of dealing with the pain.’
I can’t help raising my eyes to the stars. ‘That’s a rich person’s euphemism if ever I heard one.’ Since when was a one night stand called that? If I’m sounding unsympathetic, it’s only because I landed on the receiving end.
Kip sighs again. ‘Okay, I admit Quinn would try to sleep with every hot girl he met. He still does. But when you’re hurt at that kind of impressionable age, the grief doesn’t go away.’
‘So you’re telling me this is why you’re all serial shaggers?’ My voice soaring in indignation is on behalf of every woman they’ve messed around, not just me.
Kip leaps straight in to contradict me. ‘Not at all. Our mum was knocked down and killed outright walking my younger brother to school. The shock was why we were all crazy in our different ways.’ The low laugh from the other end of the boat has a bitter note. ‘I never want pain like that again. But my own way of coping is to make damned sure I never let anyone close. And I’m completely honest about that.’
So maybe it isn’t fair to take it out on Kip, especially when he’s explained so openly. As for the pangs of sympathy that are twisting my stomach, if I don’t close those down as fast as I can he’ll only exploit them.
‘Thanks for telling me. I’m pleased you’ve found a less destructive way of coping than Quinn did. And I’m sorry about your mum. When I lost my dad it felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. All I wanted to do was howl.’ Damn. I’ve no idea why that slipped out.
‘You too? Shit, I’m sorry, I had no idea.’ His voice in the darkness is soft and unexpectedly comforting.
‘He was struck by lightning up on the golf course. He was up there after he got the news I’d split with Thom. Which makes it my fault. If he hadn’t been so upset, he’d have been at home.’ If I’m over-sharing, I can’t help it. It’s a strange place to let this out for the first time.
Kip’s sigh is loud enough to travel the length of the boat. ‘You can’t blame yourself, Water Lily. They were accidents.’
My voice is small and scratchy. ‘If I hadn’t stuffed up my marriage, I’d still have my dad.’
He sighs again. ‘You have to let the bad stuff go. You can’t live your life holding on to regrets. That ache inside never goes away though, does it?’
‘Nope.’ I shake my head, swallowing the sour saliva out of my mouth.
As Kip goes on, his voice has lightened. ‘Although on the up side, if your mum hadn’t been getting married to David, you wouldn’t have forced me to get my act together here. I’d never have got as far as bringing award assessors out to an illuminated island. Or be in a boat in the dark with you, come to that.’ His tone is weirdly wistful.
‘I’d kind of hoped everyone had forgotten about me being on the island years ago.’ Hopefully this will take us back to where we began.
‘Why else did you think you got your nickname?’ Kip picks up the oars, and the boat begins to slide through the water again.
‘Maybe because of the pond weed at the Goose and Duck?’ That was what I’d pinned my hopes on up to now. And thankfully it’s a long way away from the subject of lost parents.
He laughs. ‘Pulling you out of the water’s becoming a habit, Water Lily.’
‘You do realise in that case I may have to call you Cake-face, Kipling.’ Very fitting too, given his tongue was on the floor when he saw Poppy’s baking the other day.
He’s straight back at me. ‘Try that too often, you might find yourself back in the lake again.’
As we ease towards the glowing lanterns on the jetty, I catch sight of the veranda beyond, lit up with a hundred swinging jars and tea lights. For some reason, completely not to do with Kip, I’m imagining a bride – definitely not me, okay? – being rowed across the lake by her new husband. ‘Wouldn’t this make the most amazing wedding night hideaway?’ Despite the dodgy memories, there’s something awesome about crossing the water at night. And the yellow flames swaying in the darkness are beyond magical.
Kip laughs. ‘Damn. You have all the best ideas – which is obviously why we pay you so much.’
By the time we disembark, and I’ve checked the boat’s properly tied up, the others are already up by the cabin, getting stuck into the fizz. And Kip opting for proper champagne instead of plain old Prosecco is another sign of how seriously they’re taking this particular visit from the assessors.
Jules puts down his glass of Bolly and picks up his camera again. ‘Okay, raise your glasses everyone, we’ll have a few relaxed shots of the candlelight party mood by the cabin.’
Although I’m not that happy about being used as a photo opportunity, given I’m apparently being paid, I grab an empty glass and wave it to show willing.
Jules is staring at Jess. ‘Time for you to work your magic, sweetie? Then we’ll move on to our iconic jetty shots.’
I watch as Jess whips a cloud of billowing fabric out of her bag. ‘What are you doing?’
She shushes me. ‘One second, I’m about to make you into a night-time bride.’ A few deft twists, and she cinches the fabric around the waist of my T-shirt dress. ‘We need something bigger than a normal wedding dress to show up here.
‘Me? As a bride?’ It comes out as a squawk. What’s more, apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, as I’m suddenly the one with yards of white chiffon flapping round my legs.
She’s tugging at my pony tail. ‘Quick, let down your hair, and you’re done.’ Her finger lands on my lips as she talks under her breath. ‘They’re being generous enough to make it worth your while jumping in the lake, although I doubt they’ll ask you to do that. They only want a couple of shots, so think of your savings balance and play along.’
I’m so indignant, I can’t help protest. ‘But what if I don’t want …?’ My personal space is filled with the heady scent of body spray, as Jules swoops in.
He’s got his best ‘bride calming’ voice on. ‘We simply need figures, sweetie. Shadows in the darkness. The merest hint of a bride and groom to give scale.’
How had I missed that part? ‘There’s a groom?’ It’s a shriek, as my stomach plummets. Of course there’s a damned groom. Why else would Kip be rowing a boat in pin stripe trousers?
The groom in question has already made his way down to the water’s edge, where he’s idly kicking the stones, gazing out at the reflections. Hands in his pockets, white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. As I catch a glimpse of the shadows on his face, the pit of my stomach squishes. For a second he looks so overwhelmingly alone, I have this inexplicable urge to wrap my arms around him. Pull him into a hug, and never let go. It might only last a nano second, but it leaves me open mouthed with horror. Then he spins around, and thankfully his snarky smile blasts it to wherever it came from. But I can’t forget it almost came too late. I’d have been way stronger without him sharing his back story on the way over.
A second later, Kip’s there, taking my hand, leading me towards the jetty, spinning me to face him as Jules directs us. And even though the air was warm five minutes ago, my arms are pebbling with goosebumps.
‘Okay, shake out your hair, Lily, chin up.’
Jess is out on the jetty with us, tweaking, and tutting. Stepping back between poses. As for my outfit, it feels like the times I used to dress up in net curtains in the garden with Poppy when we were kids. Which neatly side steps any agonising comparisons with my own real thing. Although I do allow myself a teensy bit of fantasy to replace the awful Kip with someone more suitable. Anyone else will do. But when I try a mental photoshop to superimpose Fred’s easy smile on Kip’s head, for some reason I can’t get it to stick.
Instead I try another tactic, ignore that my nose is on a level with Kip’s neck, and concentrate on the way the collarbones at the base of his throat are shining in the moonlight. Also not a great idea, as I end up wit
h another seismic shiver. As for me personally, this island is a disaster every time I set foot on it, I should have known better than to come. What’s the good of doing a double knot to stop the boat escaping, then ending up as a bridal picture?
‘I hope you know I’ll get you back for this, Kip.’ I’m hissing at him as he drags me along the jetty.
He seems to find it funny. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’
Jules is still bouncing around us. ‘Okay, foreheads together for one last shot.’
I’m not letting up on my grumbling. ‘However much the pay cheque is, some things are not worth the money.’ Our faces are so close Kip’s heat is radiating onto my cheek, and I’m breathing in the scent of his skin.
‘Okay, relax. It’s a wrap.’
I sag with relief, and as I wobble Kip grabs me. For a dizzy second the world stands still, and I could swear he’s going to come in and slide his lips over mine. As I hold my breath, my mouth waters. It has to be the same total disgust reflex you get when you eat sour worms.
Then he lets me go, turns me away from him, and puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘No falling off the jetty, Water Lily. You’re definitely not contracted for sub-aqua shots.’
And damn that I feel short changed as he marches me all the way back to land.
As we wander back to join the others, Kip homes straight in on the assessors. ‘Our other special news is that in addition to our sumptuous bridal suite we’ll also be offering the extra option of island hideaway wedding nights in the cabin. In summer, mostly. But with log fires it would work in winter too.’ Talk about making it up as he goes along.
Bart’s so taken aback, his eyebrows shoot up faster than a moon rocket. ‘Well that’s a brain wave … on our part. It’ll make us totally unique in the area, if not the country.’ From the speed he picks it up and runs with it, the guy is a true pro.
‘Absolutely. Fantastic.’ The assessors are exchanging significant glances. ‘That takes a winning venue into a different league entirely.’
Damn, damn, damn. Damn. If I wasn’t in the middle of being unwrapped by Jess, I would literally kick myself. All my fault again. Anyone would think I was trying to sabotage Rafe and Poppy, not going all out to save them.
I’m grinding my teeth, because I’m so furious. With myself for being so thoughtless. And with Kip for being such a flagrant bloody opportunist. Turning my throwaway comment into a main attraction in five seconds flat takes gall. ‘Well, much as I hate to break up the party, now you’ve got all your iconic images, I’d like a lift back to my life please. Before anyone hijacks any more of my random thoughts and turns them into award winning features. If that’s okay with you, Kip?’
Bart smooths in. ‘Great, our work’s all done here. Thanks for a wonderful evening. Everyone back to the boats then?’
There’s a rush for the jetty, and it’s only when we get there that I look back, and see Bart and Jess aren’t with us. They’re still up on the veranda. What’s worse, he’s holding out a chair for Jess, and she’s about to sit down on it.
I storm back up the beach. ‘Aren’t you two coming?’
Bart wrinkles his face. ‘Jess and I have a couple of old scores to settle. And there’s champagne to finish too. We’ll be along as soon as we’re done.’
I stare at Jess. This woman needs a reality check, and fast. ‘You know there’s a long history of Penryns getting stuck on this island with women?’
Jess is biting back her smile. ‘Don’t worry, Lily, I can look after myself. I eat wimps like Bart for breakfast on a daily basis. You know that.’ The glare she turns on Bart is fierce enough to roast him.
Bart scowls. ‘You don’t say. Along with your old-lady constipation Bran Buds, no doubt.’
And then a second later they both erupt into laughter. Which is completely inexplicable.
‘Great.’ I sniff. ‘Pleased to hear it. Just don’t be surprised to find the boat gone when you get back to the jetty, okay?’
The high pitched squealing that follows me down to the water reminds me of … For a second my heart stops in mid beat. Because, despite all of Jess and Bart’s snarling, the giggling I can hear now is just like David and my mum. Which can’t be right at all. And is probably only down to Bart’s extreme jet lag. Maybe the cabin pressure messed with his vocal chords. And Jess quaffing Bolly at the speed of light. But when I scramble into the boat with Kip, and look back at the jetty as he rows away, I have the strangest feeling that their boat is already drifting out into the darkness.
Chapter 34
Monday, 10th July
At Rose Hill Manor: Candle power and happy dances
Back on the shore at the Manor, we’ve wandered back up the lantern lit path to the house, watched Jules head off into the darkness, and said some suitably grovelling ‘goodbyes’ to the assessors. They’ll be back again for a more thorough daytime inspection, although the mind boggles at what sweeteners slash corruption slash enticements Bart will dream up for that one. And then they’ll be negotiating a drop-in at a real live wedding too. They actually turned out to be nice, even if I could have done with them being less damned impressed by the Manor.
As we move towards the house, I’m longing to leave. At least now they’re gone, I can stop what actually amounts to paid fawning, and get back into character. As myself. So watch out Kip.
‘I’d better be getting off. If that’s okay?’ At the last minute, I remember the clock might still be running.
‘Before you go, I’ve got something to show you.’
Ooops, still working after all then. ‘Great.’ Why does this not surprise me? When did Kip not want his pound of flesh? ‘I’ll tell my eyelid props they need to hang on in there for another half hour then.’
‘You remember our first wedding? With Vee?’ He pushes his way into the half light of the ballroom. ‘I spent some of the tip on a vinyl player upgrade.’ Only a guy would find this urgent, when it’s almost midnight.
I can’t help but grin. ‘A typically laddish purchase.’ And waaaaaaaahhhh to my instant stab of disappointment. I mean, get real. Who’d have wanted to go on a mini break with Kip, even if he had suggested it? Certainly not me.
He frowns as he eases open the sets of double doors facing onto the terrace. ‘You can’t underestimate the customer appreciation a top flight turntable will bring. Attention to detail, and all that, hey?’ That could have been a half wink, but it was more of a face scrunch. ‘Would you like a listen?’ He’s taking that as a given, because the lights on the deck flick on.
It’s half past eleven at night. I’m knackered. I’d rather jump in a vat of boiling oil. ‘Okay, but let’s make it short.’
‘One track.’ He’s already sliding a record out of its sleeve, and onto the deck. ‘I thought we could make the most of the warm evening and have a dance outside.’
As soon as I’ve picked my jaw up off the floor, I let out a squawk. ‘A dance?’ I’m playing for time, wondering why the hell I didn’t dismiss it out of hand. Why a tiny part of me is wondering how it would feel to have those tanned hands spinning me round. ‘Totally not.’ Thank Wednesday my sensible-woman-self jumped in and took control there.
His brows knit. ‘The two of us are here, and we’ve got a candlelit terrace all to ourselves. It’s a shame not to make the most of the new deck.’ Of course. That’s what it’s about. He stops as he adjusts the stylus arm. ‘Every guy who went to boarding school can dance. It’s the main thing they teach you. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how.’
I bite back my amusement. ‘And every girl who grew up in Rose Hill went to Jilly’s dancing classes in the village hall from being able to walk until we were teenagers. So there’ll be no problems on the dance moves.’ We learned everything from break dancing to the Viennese Waltz. ‘Sorry, it’s still a “no” from me. I’ll stick to listening.’ As I head back outside, I’m expecting to have my eardrums blasted by some heavy metal band. But the opening bars of the track that come floating out are something way
softer.
‘These Foolish Things?’ I’m only querying as he follows me out, because it’s such an unlikely choice. Although it’s maybe not without implication. Me being a fool? I’m with him on that. But I have to give it to him, it’s a perfect choice for that dance we’re not having.
‘Remind me of you … Girly enough?’ He rakes his fingers through his hair. ‘Seriously though, has it occurred to you, if you let go and enjoyed yourself more, you might get more out of life?’
I’m almost choking, because I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘And has it occurred to you to butt out?’ As I stare up at him, I’m almost growling with rage.
He gives a sniff. ‘When you open your eyes that wide, I can see they’re brown, even in the dark. Although I knew that already.’
‘So? Yours are brown too.’ Well, grey-brown, anyway. And thank Tuesday for that. We’re back to our usual thing. Trading insults. At least he can’t say anything that derogatory about mine, if his are the same colour.
That’s the thing about Kip. He never backs off. ‘You know two brown eyed people will always have a brown eyed child.’
Crap. The last response I was ready for. Although it’s an improvement on telling me how to run my life. Then the penny drops, and suddenly I know where he’s coming from.
‘In the kitchen the other day. You heard didn’t you?’ I haven’t exactly had time to dwell on it, thanks to the size of Kip’s ideas on candle power. But he has to be talking about my reaction to Thom having a baby.
‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t avoid it. An ex starting a family can’t be the easiest.’ He gives a shrug. ‘I hate to think of you hurting.’
I sigh. ‘When I found out, I felt like I’d been stabbed in the chest.’ And who knows why I’m sharing this, with Kip of all people. Apart from him sympathising. ‘But after the shock, deep down I know it shouldn’t matter. It’s a part of my life that’s over. In a while I’ll mind less.’
