Letters from Lighthouse Cottage

by McNamara, Ali

  Danny nods. ‘Yes, you’re right, of course.’ He turns to me. ‘Perhaps I’d better go, Gracie. Thank you for a lovely evening. I’m sorry it didn’t last longer.’

  ‘No,’ I snap, completely fed up with their bickering. ‘No, you don’t need to leave, Danny. I want you to stay.’

  Ava, sensing something isn’t quite right, looks between the three of us with an anxious expression.

  ‘Ava, I’m going to take you up to bed now,’ I say, taking her from Charlie.

  ‘But, Mummy!’ Ava protests, knowing she’s going to miss something.

  ‘Now,’ I insist, putting her down on the floor and taking her hand.

  ‘What about my milk?’

  ‘I’ll bring it up in a minute,’ I say as I pull her towards the stairs. ‘Now say goodnight to everyone.’

  ‘All right… Goodnight, Danny, thank you for my story. Goodnight, Uncle Charlie – will I see you in the morning?’ she asks hopefully.

  ‘You bet you will,’ Charlie says, winking at her.

  ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ I tell the two men watching us from the hall. ‘And you’d both better be behaving when I come downstairs.’

  ‘Yes, Mummy!’ Danny grins.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Charlie smile.

  I shake my head dismissively at them both and continue up the stairs with Ava.

  We’re supposed to have got older and wiser with the passing years, but sometimes it feels like Charlie and Danny have never grown up at all.

  I finally head downstairs again after settling Ava in her bed. Having the only two men in her life at the cottage on the same evening had got her a little over-excited, and it had taken me a while to calm her down enough to sleep.

  I think about this as I descend the narrow staircase. Danny and Charlie are the only two constant male influences in Ava’s life right now. It’s doubtful Ava will see Simon for some time, unless he comes back to this country for a visit, which seems highly unlikely as, according to Simon, he’s ‘making a mint’ over there. And money, as I’d eventually realised, is all that matters to Simon.

  Ava has asked twice now if Danny is my boyfriend. Is she really that desperate to have a more permanent father figure in her life to fill the void that Simon left?

  And if she is, could Danny be the man to do it?

  I don’t love Danny in the same way I did when I was a teenager, I know that; I don’t do anything in the same way I did when I was younger. But I still care a lot for him. If Danny wants to try again, would I be silly not to give it a try? Especially when Ava seems to like him so much?

  I pause outside the sitting room door to eavesdrop, as I had earlier, but this time on Danny and Charlie.

  ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ I hear Charlie saying. ‘Gracie has been let down too many times by men to have it happen to her again. And I seem to remember, Danny, that you were one of those men.’

  ‘Charlie, you know I love Gracie,’ Danny responds. ‘I probably always have. Yes, I’ve made some mistakes in the past – who hasn’t? But she’s always been incredibly special to me.’

  I feel my hand go protectively to my chest. It remains there while I fiddle with my necklace and continue to listen.

  ‘But how does Gracie feel?’ Charlie asks. ‘Does she feel the same way about you?’

  There’s a pause in the conversation now, and I guess Danny is thinking about this. ‘I don’t know, I honestly don’t. She seems to enjoy spending time in my company, as I do hers, but Gracie is quite a closed book these days. It’s hard to tell what she’s really thinking.’

  Again a pause, before Danny speaks again. ‘What do you think, Charlie? As much as I hate to admit it, you are her best friend.’

  Ooh yes, what does Charlie think? I’d be interested to know that too.

  ‘I think Grace cares about you a lot,’ Charlie says, so quietly I can barely hear him through the door. ‘I think, like you, she’s carried a flame since you were both teenagers. But whether that’s love, I don’t know. Only she can tell you that.’

  Silence again.

  ‘But what if she did love me, Charlie – how would you feel about that?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, would you stand in our way?’

  It’s Charlie’s turn to think now.

  ‘If two people love each other, Danny – truly love each other – then nothing will ever keep them apart. They will always find a way of coming back into each other’s lives until they realise their true feelings for each other.’

  Charlie, that’s beautiful…

  ‘So are you saying that we’d have your blessing?’ Danny asks.

  ‘If that’s what Grace wants… then I won’t try to come between you.’

  I hear Danny’s wheelchair move along the wooden floorboards.

  ‘Cheers, mate. I appreciate that,’ he says, and I assume they’re shaking hands. ‘It’s been a funny year. I know we haven’t always got along in the past, but we’ve come together recently, haven’t we? Perhaps we can continue that good will into the future?’

  ‘Sure,’ Charlie says. ‘I’d like that.’

  On the other side of the door my mind is whirring.

  What could Danny mean, they’d come together recently? Is he talking about the time the two of them had a drink together? No, it sounds like more than that. Ah well, at least they seem to be getting on for a change; perhaps my earlier threat did some good after all!

  But in forcing Danny and Charlie to make amends, I’ve forced myself into making a choice.

  Is Danny really the one for me? Do I want to give it a proper go with him, to see what would happen if we were a couple again?

  Could he be the one who makes me do all the things Charlie had described to me on the sofa a few weeks ago?

  Or is that someone else entirely?

  Dear Grace,

  I’m so pleased you keep coming back to me and consulting me on what to do next, as this is a very important time for you.

  All I can tell you at the moment is you’re doing the right thing.

  I know it was difficult for you to make your decision, because as always you were trying to think what would be best for everyone, not just yourself.

  But the path you have chosen is the right one for you, and for so many other people too.

  Love, Me x

  PS I love my new home in the cottage. It’s so much cosier than your old bedroom!

  PPS What about a party? It would be a REALLY good idea, I promise.

  Thirty-Seven

  ‘Morning, Grace!’ Olivia, Mum’s new assistant, calls cheerily to me as I enter through the shop door. ‘How’s it going up at the hall?’

  ‘Good, thank you,’ I say, unwrapping my scarf from around my neck where it has been protecting me from the chill wind that’s blowing through Sandybridge today. ‘It’s early days yet, of course, but I’m really pleased at how much I’ve been able to do already.’

  ‘It’s such a huge undertaking,’ Olivia says as she secures her long blonde hair into a ponytail. ‘I don’t know where I’d even start with it.’

  ‘I felt a bit like that at first, but now we’re a few months in, I can see how it will all come together eventually – fingers crossed.’

  ‘Good. So what can I do for you today, Grace? Your mum isn’t here, I’m afraid: she’s gone to oversee a house clearance with Josh.’

  Joshua was the other new member of the Harper’s Antiques team. In the end, after much thought, we’d decided to take on two new members of staff. Olivia and Josh were a brother and sister who had recently come back to live in Sandybridge after their grandmother had died and left them her house, and as it turned out quite a substantial amount of money.

  They had seen my advert for staff and had both jumped at the chance of doing something different. Thanks to their windfall, they didn’t need huge wage packets any more, so had given up their well-paid but stressful jobs in London to do something they both enjoyed. A
pparently, working in a little antiques shop by the sea was exactly what they were looking for.

  They were a great asset to the business, both of them keen to learn all about the trade they were now working in. And Mum was more than happy to impart her knowledge.

  ‘Actually, it’s you I’ve come to see, Olivia. Charlie and I are having a pre-Christmas drinks party at Lighthouse Cottage on Saturday, and I wondered if you and Josh would like to come?’

  ‘Ooh, we’d love too. Well, I would, and I’m sure Josh will feel the same.’

  ‘Fab! It’s nothing fancy, just a few drinks with friends, but you’re more than welcome.’

  ‘I shall look forward to it. Would you like a coffee, Grace? I’m about to pop the kettle on.’

  ‘Oh thank you, but no. I have to get up to the hall for a meeting with the architect at eleven.’

  ‘No worries. Perhaps another time?’

  ‘Yes, of course, I’d like that.’

  As I leave the shop, I think about how lucky we were to find Olivia and Josh. They’ve not only fitted in perfectly at Harper’s Antiques, but in Sandybridge too. Olivia is already shaking up the local WI with her ideas, and Josh has volunteered with one of the local groups that helps keep the beaches clean and tidy, and is often to be seen of an evening picking up litter with the other volunteers.

  I couldn’t have asked for two more perfect people to work with Mum in the shop.

  There’s a strong wind buffeting the town as I make my way along the main road, bracing myself against the gusts coming in off the sea as I approach the entrance to Sandybridge Hall. As always when I walk up the long driveway these days, the house in front of me is obscured by scaffolding, lorries and vans. It’s been that way since the renovations began.

  The project, although complex, is immensely satisfying. We’re a long way from finished yet, but I’m loving seeing everything coming together.

  It hasn’t been an easy task, planning a complete refurbishment of a Tudor manor house, but it’s given me something I’d been lacking – a project to get my teeth into. Already I’ve managed to track down many of the original items from the house that had been put into storage back in the eighties. My next task was to find replacements for all the furniture and fittings that had been destroyed in the fire or lost over the years. I’d been particularly excited when I managed to source, and then purchase at auction, an exact replica of the chandelier I so vividly remember hanging in the hall. The chandelier is currently sitting in a packing crate at Lighthouse Cottage, until the grand day when it can be re-hung in pride of place at Sandybridge Hall.

  I’d been worried to begin with about the amount of money that would be required to complete the restoration, but Sue assured me that money was not a problem – and she’s been as good as her word. I’ve been able to spend whatever’s needed to do the job properly.

  I still haven’t met the mysterious Mr Braithwaite who’s funding all this. Sue is my contact whenever I have any enquiries. She assures me that Mr Braithwaite is happy with everything I’m doing, and wants me to keep up the good work.

  So that’s what I’ve been doing, and I’m loving every minute of it. For me it’s a dream come true, seeing the old house come back to life once more.

  When my meeting with the architect is over, I check on how the builders are getting on. Once we’d finished ripping out all the nasty plasterboard that had been covering up the original oak panelling in the great hall, there had been a bit of bother when an expert had arrived to restore the wood to its original splendour. Both parties had come to me with their grievances: the builders complained that the expert was getting in their way and preventing them doing their work, and the expert said the builders were stirring up so much dust he couldn’t do his restoring.

  In the interests of harmony, I’d arranged for the builders to work on the ballroom until the restorer had finished his work.

  It turned out to be the first of many ‘disputes’ that I was called upon to resolve.

  ‘How’s it going, Alf?’ I ask, wandering over to the foreman of the building crew, who’s currently peering at a clipboard.

  ‘Oh hello, Grace,’ Alf says, looking up. ‘Yes, good… Well, it would be, if they hadn’t delivered eight by four instead of ten by four.’

  ‘In English please?’ I ask. Alf has a habit of talking to me in builder’s jargon. Some of which, after a few months working together, I now understand, but most of which, I don’t.

  ‘Wood,’ Alf explains. ‘The eejits have delivered the wrong size. Now we can’t get on properly.’

  ‘How quickly can you get replacements?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, I’ve already rung them. They say they’ll have more with us by the end of the day.’

  ‘Good man,’ I tell him. ‘This is why I pay you to be in charge.’

  ‘You don’t pay me enough to be in charge of this lot,’ Alf says, looking around at his team, but he’s smiling. ‘We’ll get there, Grace, don’t you worry.’

  ‘Of that I have no doubt, Alf. Dominic says he’ll have finished the panels by Thursday, so you’ll be able to get back in the hall and carry on with that floor. The tiles did arrive, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yep, all stacked at the rear, safe and sound. Although why you’d pay all that for some floor tiles, I don’t know. I saw the ticket when they were delivered; what are they made of – gold?’

  ‘Ha, no, but they are hand-painted with an original Tudor pattern that may have been in the hall when it was built, so they’re worth it.’

  ‘Hmm, the guy who owns this place must have more money than sense.’

  ‘Perhaps, but he pays our wages, Alf, so who are we to question him?’

  ‘Too true. Oi, Ricky, not like that!’ he calls across the huge ballroom to one of the builders. ‘Sorry, Grace, I’d best go and sort this out.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll pop by in a couple of days, Alf, see how things are coming along.’

  ‘No problem. Right, you eejit,’ he yells, marching across the floor. ‘Let me show you how we use a nail gun like a builder, and not like a prima ballerina.’

  I smile as I head out of the house and into the gardens. The house isn’t the only thing being renovated; the gardens are to undergo an overhaul too.

  I’d been in contact with a garden designer, and we’re meeting next week to finalise the plans for how the gardens can be brought in keeping with the new house design. Although work will not be starting until after Christmas, we want to get the plans finalised so the designer can work out a schedule of what she needs to do and when.

  I breathe in the crisp December air as I step outside. The house is a bit dusty and noisy these days, so it’s always a relief to step outside into the gardens, which even though they are being redesigned are still striking after all these years.

  I look at my watch, and find I’ve a couple of hours before Ava needs collecting from school, so I decide to take a little walk around the grounds to try to imagine how they might look after their redesign.

  The grass is long and damp as I leave one of the formal gravel paths and walk in the direction of the lake. The once neatly mown lawns have been allowed to run wild since the previous owner sold the house, but luckily I have my winter boots on, so the wet doesn’t bother me too much as I stride over the unkempt grass.

  I stop for a moment as the lake comes into view; the dank December weather has caused a low mist to hang over the water, making the lake look eerily beautiful today.

  As I stand in awe of nature’s work once more, I notice movement down by the water. I can just about make out a human form, standing by the lake.

  Who could it be? The only people at Sandybridge right now, other than myself, are the builders, and I hardly think one of them would be pausing by the lake to gaze dreamily into the water. So I head down to the water’s edge to investigate.

  As I get nearer, a dog appears from behind a bush, happily carrying a stick to its master.

  ‘Charlie, what are you doing here?’ I a
sk, surprised to see him. ‘I thought you were doing paperwork at the cottage this morning.’

  Charlie smiles as I walk towards him. ‘I was. Just fancied a quick walk after being stuck inside too long.’

  ‘Here? Why not walk along the seafront?’

  Charlie shrugs. ‘I was heading that way and then I decided to take a detour into the grounds for a change of scenery. We’re not in trouble with the boss, are we?’ He ruffles Winston’s fur, and reaches down for his stick. Then he throws it a little way across the grass for the Lab to fetch.

  ‘I remember a time when Winston would have swum across that lake,’ I tell Charlie as we watch him trot slowly after the stick. ‘But not so much now, I guess.’

  ‘He’s getting older, a bit like we all are,’ Charlie says, smiling at me. ‘A few more grey hairs and a bit less energy. It comes to us all.’

  ‘We’re only in our forties, Charlie! We’re hardly pensioners!’

  ‘You’re telling me you don’t feel it?’

  ‘Sometimes, I guess. But most of the time I prefer to pretend I’m still a teenager.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have been the boss of Sandybridge Hall back then. You hated everything to do with history, if I remember rightly.’

  ‘That’s true, I suppose. I’ve definitely changed in that respect…’ I think about this for a few seconds. ‘But stop calling me the boss of here – that’s the new owner.’

  ‘Well, you’re the boss for now, until he – or is it a she? I forget – moves in.’

  ‘It’s a he – a Mr Braithwaite.’

  ‘Ah.’ Charlie nods.

  I shiver. ‘It’s freezing standing here. I’m having a walk around the grounds myself; shall we carry on walking together?’

  ‘Sure, why not?’ Charlie says. He calls Winston and we set off along the narrow path that circles the outside of the lake.

  ‘Not a very regal name, is it – Braithwaite?’ Charlie ponders as we walk. ‘It hardly conjures up images of the lord of the manor.’