As always, Remy is quiet and still when he’s being watched.
‘Grace?’
I hear Simon stirring in the other room.
‘I’ll come back later,’ I tell Remy. ‘Just in case…’
After we’d told Mum and Dad our happy news, and Mum had used up all the tissues we had in the house sobbing, and saying how she thought it would never happen, they’d immediately insisted we go out tonight and celebrate.
‘I was going to cook my speciality roast,’ Mum had said through misty eyes, ‘but this calls for something special. Bob, book a table at the hall!’
‘Will we get in at this short notice?’ Dad asked.
‘We will if you remind Maurice he owes you a favour for getting Helen that Moorcroft vase she wanted for their anniversary.’ Mum gave Dad a knowing look. ‘Maurice is the maître d’ at the new restaurant,’ she told us.
‘A new restaurant in Sandybridge?’ I said. ‘Where?’
‘Up at Sandybridge Hall. These days it’s not just a venue for big events like Danny’s ball, there’s a restaurant too with its own award-winning chef! A restaurant which your father can get us into if he picks up that telephone!’
Dad rolled his eyes at this, but got up to make the necessary phone call with Mum trailing after him.
When they were out of sight, Simon opened his eyes wide, then smiled. ‘I love your parents,’ he said, grinning.
‘That’s because you’ve only spent a couple of hours with them! Wait until you’ve done a whole evening, then see if you’re saying the same thing!’
Sandybridge Hall looks absolutely beautiful as our taxi passes through the gates and on to the long gravel drive. There are little lights twinkling in all the trees, giving the place a magical, fairylike look.
The last time I’d been inside the hall’s grounds there had been flames billowing from the windows, and the walls of the house had been veiled by evil plumes of smoke. But tonight I’m pleased to see Sandybridge Hall looking much more welcoming as we pull up in front of the bridge across the moat.
Dad pays the taxi driver while the rest of us stand admiring the hall, which tonight is cleverly lit to create a soft glow that enhances the red-and-yellow brickwork and dances playfully off the water below us.
‘Well, this is a surprise,’ Simon says, gazing in awe at the building I knew so well. ‘I didn’t expect to find such a gem of Tudor architecture here in the middle of Sandybridge.’
‘I know, it is a bit at odds with the rest of the town,’ I say, wondering how much the building has changed since the last time I was here. ‘It looks as though the owners have done a lot of work to the place. Didn’t it stand empty for some time after the fire, Mum?’
‘Yes. It was on the market for years until the company that have it now came along and bought it – the cost of rectifying all the fire damage was so high, no one was willing to take it on.’
‘It’s magnificent,’ Simon says. ‘This wonderful moat lends it an almost castle-like quality – what a joy to have this here on your doorstep, Janet.’
‘Yes, Simon, I’ve always thought so,’ Mum agrees. ‘We did a house clearance here once, you know,’ she adds proudly. ‘Didn’t we, Grace?’
‘We cleared the gatehouse, if that’s what you mean,’ I correct her, so there’s no confusion. ‘Didn’t all the important antiques and works of art from the house go into storage?’
‘Yes, I believe they did,’ Mum mumbles, flushing a little. ‘Ah, here’s your dad!’ she recovers. ‘Now we can go in at last.’
The interior of Sandybridge Hall is nothing like I remember. It would seem the new owner has completely revamped the whole place to fit in with the hall’s new life as a social venue. Where once there had been beautiful wooden panels covering the walls, and intricate plaster mouldings decorating the ceilings, there are now smooth, emulsion-covered magnolia walls, and flat white ceilings with tiny halogen spotlights dotted about. I gaze up at the ceiling recalling the huge crystal chandelier that used to hang there.
‘What’s up?’ Simon asks me.
‘Oh nothing, it’s just there used to be a lovely chandelier up there and I was wondering what had happened to it.’
‘Everything that wasn’t fire-damaged was removed and is now safely in storage,’ the maître d’ says, coming over to us. ‘Please don’t worry, miss, nothing was destroyed when the hall was transformed into the culinary spectacle you see before you today.’
‘What about the panels that were once on these walls?’ I ask, going over to them. There’s a print of one of Monet’s lily paintings hanging on the bland, emulsion-covered wall now, where once intricate carved wooden panels had graced the entrance hall. ‘What happened to them?’
‘You seem to know the hall well, miss,’ the maître d’ says, smiling disingenuously at me. ‘I believe the oak panels are still there, behind the plasterboard that covers the walls now. Sadly, some of them were blackened by smoke, so they weren’t at their most attractive when the renovation began. But as I said before, no original features were destroyed during the hall’s transformation. The present owners always take great care to preserve the history of the buildings they acquire.’
‘Oh, right, that’s good,’ I tell him, still not too sure about Sandybridge Hall’s new look.
The maître d’ nods. ‘Bob!’ he says turning to my father. ‘How wonderful to see you this evening. I believe congratulations are in order?’
‘Yes, that’s right, Maurice,’ Dad says proudly. ‘My daughter, Grace, here, has just got engaged to Simon.’
‘Congratulations to both of you,’ Maurice says, giving a little bow. ‘Is it too early to start thinking about reception venues? We do a wonderful bridal package…’
‘Yes,’ I insist. ‘It is. Tonight we only want to eat, thank you.’
‘Of course, miss.’ Maurice nods again. ‘Now if you’d all follow me…’
‘Grace, that was very rude,’ Mum says as we follow Maurice into the dining room. ‘Perhaps it would be nice to have your wedding here?’
‘Not tonight, Mum. Tonight is about celebrating our engagement. Wedding plans can happen later.’
Plus, how can I even think about what sort of wedding I’m going to have when I haven’t even told my best friend I’m getting married?
Tomorrow morning I will find Charlie, before word gets out – as it’s bound to if my mother has anything to do with it – and I’ll tell him my good news.
He’ll be thrilled for me, I know he will.
Twenty-Two
The next morning I arrange for Dad to take Simon to visit the shop while I go in search of Charlie. Mum had said he was in Sandybridge at the moment, because she’d seen him at his parents’ tea rooms the other day.
It’s funny how your parents never stop seeing you as a child. Charlie had bought the tea rooms from his mother when his father died, so she could retire and take some well-earned time off. The little shop had quickly become a part of the Lighthouse Bakery chain, and was as successful as ever, but Mum will always see Charlie as the teenager she first met when he used to walk Wilson with me, and to her the tea rooms will always belong to his parents. Mum proved last night she will always see me as a child too; when we were waiting to cross the road, she’d caught hold of my hand. No matter how old I am, I’ll always be her little girl.
I decide to head for the lighthouse first. It’s gone from being the place where Charlie and his staff used to bake all the goods to his company’s headquarters, housing about twenty office staff over its several floors. Charlie still lives next door at Lighthouse Cottage – when he’s in Sandybridge. These days the business takes him all over the country and, from what I’ve heard, the world too.
Instead of taking the easy route to the lighthouse along the pavements and cobbled streets of the town, I choose to walk across the sand the way I used to with Charlie. As I go, I remember our walks with Wilson, throwing his ball and watching him scrabble across the sand to fetch it.
&n
bsp; It hardly seems possible, but I’ve known Charlie for almost fifteen years now. It seems like only yesterday he was the skinny ginger kid I’d hang around with. Now he’s a fully grown man with his own company, and Louisa, his pretty wife, at his side. Where have all the years gone?
While Charlie was busy building his own happy and successful life, I graduated university with a first-class honours degree in history, then, just as I’d always dreamed of doing, I set off travelling around the world, seeing things I’d always wanted to, experiencing things I’d never thought I would, and living the way I’d daydreamed about since I was young. I had not only travelled the world, I’d lived it too: working diverse jobs in various countries, whether related to history or not, to pay for the next plane ticket to another country, and another way of life.
While I was in America on a working visa I was given the chance of my first proper job using my degree, working for the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. At first I was working in their gift shop in another of the temporary positions I took to pay my way. But then I got word the Costume Institute needed someone to provide maternity cover. So I applied and to my complete surprise was offered the position. I was initially on a six-month contract, which was then extended to a year, and it was during this time that I met Simon, also working temporarily in Manhattan, at a prestigious gallery on the Upper West Side.
How our lives have changed since Charlie and I used to stroll along this very sand together, worrying about our O-levels and then my A-level results. And how we’ve changed too…
I’ve reached the lighthouse now, so first I head around to the little cottage to see if Charlie’s there. Louisa has a high-powered job in banking, working mostly in Norwich but sometimes in London, so it’s unlikely she’ll be here on a Friday morning. I’ve never quite understood what Charlie sees in Louisa; he’s always been a quiet, content sort of fellow, but she’s a full-on workaholic. She works long days, and on top of that she commutes back and forth to Sandybridge, a journey I was used to after so many years of doing it, but one I still found taxing. Perhaps Charlie’s changed more than I realised. He’s quite the successful businessman himself these days; maybe that’s what they have in common.
There’s no one at home at the cottage, so I walk around to the front of the lighthouse and climb the steps to reception. The entrance looks a lot smarter, and the steps a lot safer than they did the first time I climbed them with Charlie. At the top I arrive to an open glass door.
‘Grace!’ Fiona, Charlie’s ever-friendly receptionist, greets me from behind her desk as I go in. ‘It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here. Ooh, I like your new hair, very nice.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply, patting my short bobbed hair. ‘I had it done a while ago.’
‘I like the colour too – auburn suits you. It must be so much lighter than before, with all your long hair. I’d like to do the same with mine.’ Fiona pulls at her high ponytail.
‘Yes, it’s definitely easier to style,’ I agree amiably. ‘You should go for it. When I was at uni I had it really short, but this is lovely in between the two.’ I glance up the spiral staircase. ‘So, is Charlie around today?’
‘Yes, he’s up in his office. I’ll tell him you’re here.’ Fiona lifts the receiver on her phone.
‘Can I surprise him?’ I ask suddenly. I don’t know why this seems like a good idea, but it does.
‘Er… yes.’ Fiona hesitates. ‘I suppose, since it’s you, Grace, it’ll be all right.’
‘Great!’ I begin to bound up the central staircase to Charlie’s office. As I climb higher, passing several floors of modern open-plan offices where Charlie’s staff are working hard at their desks, my pace begin to flag. Gosh, I’m not quite as fit as I used to be! I think as I move ever more slowly to the top, pausing to greet a few of Charlie’s staff on the way. I’ll have to make a real effort to use the gym regularly when I’m back in London, I think, as I take a quick breather. I want to be super slim for my wedding day, and that’s going to take some work right now; my weight has always been an issue for me, and since Simon came along I’ve been steadily piling on the pounds, mainly due to Simon’s love of dining out at rather delicious, but expensive restaurants.
I’m almost at the top floor now, the narrowest part of the building, so there’s only the one office up here: Charlie’s. I pause, wanting to catch my breath before I surprise him, but as always Charlie is one step ahead and surprises me by arriving at the top of the spiral staircase.
‘Hey, you,’ he calls, looking down at me. ‘Nice hair!’
‘Hey, yourself!’ I call back, taking the last few steps to the top. ‘And thank you, but how did you know?’
‘I’d like to say it was my sixth sense,’ Charlie says, hugging me. ‘But Fiona rang up and told me.’
‘Aw, I wanted to surprise you!’
‘I know, but Fiona’s a bit too good at her job! Come through.’
Charlie leads me through to the main part of his office, and we take a seat on a brown leather sofa opposite a large ergonomic desk on one side of the room. The sofa is positioned to give the perfect view of the sea through the huge glass window panels that extend 360 degrees around the top of the lighthouse.
‘Drink?’ Charlie asks. ‘I’ve got a fridge up here with cold drinks in, or I can call Fiona and she’ll bring us tea or coffee.’
The thought of Fiona climbing all those stairs balancing a tray of china cups is too much. ‘A cool drink would be great – what do you have?’
‘Your favourite, of course!’
My brow furrows, as I look at him.
‘Fanta!’ Charlie says, grinning at me. ‘We always used to drink Fanta when we were together!’
‘Oh… I don’t drink full sugar drinks any more,’ I tell him apologetically. ‘Do you have a diet drink?’
Charlie looks crestfallen.
‘Yeah, Diet Pepsi all right for you?’
‘Lovely. Why don’t you have a Fanta for us?’ I suggest, not wanting to upset him.
‘Nah, you’re all right. Tell you the truth, I don’t really drink that stuff either nowadays.’ He pats his stomach, which doesn’t wobble a jot. If anything, it looks even firmer under his white shirt. ‘Got to watch my weight. Did you know your metabolism starts dropping as soon as you hit thirty!’
I laugh. ‘Tell me about it! Yes, I did know – and do you know why? You told me!’
Charlie passes me a can of Diet Pepsi, and takes one for himself.
‘It’s good to see you again, Gracie,’ he says, sitting down next to me. ‘It’s been too long.’
‘I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been back for a while. Life has been a bit hectic.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Charlie says, mimicking me.
‘So, how are you?’ I ask delicately, hoping he knows I mean how has he been since his dad passed.
Charlie shrugs. ‘OK, I guess.’
‘It takes a while to fully recover from these things,’ I say, trying to sound as if I know what I’m talking about. I look towards the staircase in the middle of the office. ‘Looks like everything is going well here though. Everyone looks super busy downstairs.’
‘That’s because they are,’ Charlie says, pleased with himself. ‘The business is going so well, I can barely keep up with it all.’
‘I heard you were thinking of expanding internationally.’
‘We are.’ Charlie nods, then his joyful expression drops a little.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Expanding internationally was Louisa’s idea,’ Charlie says after a moment.
‘So? I think it’s a great idea.’
Charlie looks at me oddly. ‘You haven’t heard then?’ he asks quietly.
‘Heard what?’
Charlie gets up and wanders over to the other side of his office. He stares out of the window in the direction of the cottage below. ‘Louisa and I split up.’
‘When?’ I ask, completely shocked to hear this.
&nbs
p; ‘About a month ago. She left and moved back to Norwich. She’s staying with her parents until she can find somewhere to rent.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask, getting up and going over to him at the window. And why didn’t Mum?
Charlie shrugs. ‘I didn’t know how to. I guess I was embarrassed.’
‘Why, you daft thing? I’m your oldest friend, you can tell me anything.’ I reach my hand out and touch his arm.
‘I’m not good with failure, Gracie,’ Charlie says, looking into my eyes. ‘Never have been. Remember my O-levels and how I didn’t retake them after my accident?’
How could I forget?
‘That was because I was scared of looking like a failure by having to redo a year at school.’
‘But you haven’t failed in this – it’s not your fault your marriage broke down, it happens all the time.’
‘But I feel like it is. Louisa and I should never have got married, we weren’t suited, we were too different from the start.’
I knew it! But I try and stay calm – euphoria isn’t going to be the best emotion to show right now.
‘Then why did you marry?’ I ask gently. ‘If you knew it wasn’t right.’
‘She was pregnant,’ Charlie almost whispers. He turns away from me and looks out of the window again. But I get the feeling from his painful expression he’s not seeing the view.
‘Did she lose the baby?’ I ask in an equally quiet voice.
Charlie nods.
‘Oh, Charlie…’ I’m not sure what to say, so I put my arm around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder. I feel Charlie’s head touch mine, and we just stand together in silence, looking out into the distance at the waves crashing on to the rocks below us; thinking about life, and what a bastard it can be sometimes.
‘Shall we go for a walk?’ Charlie asks about fifteen minutes later, when we’ve recovered from our melancholy and returned to our drinks. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’
Letters from Lighthouse Cottage Page 16
