Letters from Lighthouse Cottage

by McNamara, Ali

  I shrug. ‘Well, that’s his name – regal or not.’

  ‘What do you know of him? I mean, you’ve not even met him yet, have you?’

  ‘No. Sue says he moves about a lot, but I will get to meet him when he’s in the country and can get all the way over to Norfolk.’

  ‘You’d think he’d want to see how his future home was coming along. I know I would if it was me; I’d want constant updates.’

  ‘I do update him. I email pictures of the house and any new pieces I’ve picked up to furnish it.’

  ‘You email him, or Sue does?’

  ‘Usually Sue, but she passes them on.’

  Charlie pulls a face, ‘It’s rather odd, isn’t it, all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Why is it all so secretive?’

  ‘It isn’t. He’s a businessman, that’s all. He pays other people to do things for him, and he’s paying me very well, so I’m not complaining!’

  ‘But why Sandybridge Hall?’ Charlie continues. ‘Why come all the way out to Norfolk to live? If he’s this international jet-setter, why choose a house here?’

  ‘You’re full of questions today, aren’t you? Maybe he wants it as a bolthole, a hideaway from the stresses and strains of his busy life.’

  ‘A bolthole? Sandybridge Hall is hardly a bolthole. Maybe he’s famous – a pop or movie star?’

  ‘His name is Braithwaite. How many celebrities do you know with that name?’

  ‘It could be an alias – so you don’t know who he is, and the press don’t get hold of the story.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Charlie,’ I say, although the thought had crossed my mind too. ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you.’

  ‘Perhaps, but until you actually meet him, I shall believe what I want to.’

  Having finished our circuit of the lake, we now take the gravel path that leads around the back of the house. Both Charlie and I fall silent as we arrive by a large bush. It was the bush we’d all hidden behind the night of the Sandybridge fire many years ago. While owners of the hall had come and gone, the bush, like many other shrubs and trees in the garden, had remained and flourished.

  ‘It never goes away, does it?’ I say quietly to Charlie. ‘The memory of that night.’

  Charlie shakes his head. ‘No, but it’s only one of many memories I have about this place, and most of them are good.’

  ‘That’s true. I guess we have had a lot of good times here as well as bad over the years.’

  ‘How’re things going with Danny?’ Charlie asks, looking up at the house as he speaks. ‘I know I haven’t been around much lately, but you two don’t seem to have spent that much time together when I have been here.’

  ‘Ah… that.’

  Charlie turns towards me. ‘Trouble in paradise, eh?’

  I kick at a crisp brown leaf on the path.

  ‘No… well, not exactly.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  I look at Charlie; I still find discussing my relationship with Danny with him incredibly awkward, even after I’d overheard him giving Danny his blessing at the cottage.

  ‘No. It’s good of you to offer, but no. I need to deal with Danny myself.’

  ‘Sounds ominous.’

  I sigh. ‘It’s not going to be the most pleasant thing I’ve ever done. But sadly it’s something I need to do.’

  Dear Grace,

  Trust me. You must do this.

  It’s for the best, I promise.

  Love, Me x

  Thirty-Eight

  Over the last few months Danny and I have been seeing each other a little more often. As always, I enjoy Danny’s company a lot, and so, it appears, does Ava. Everything should be going fine; I’m seeing someone I know well and, more importantly, trust; someone who not only likes me, but who seems to adore my daughter too. There shouldn’t be a problem – but there is.

  I just don’t feel about Danny the way I know he feels about me. As hard as I’ve tried, my feelings don’t extend beyond friendship. Danny wants more from this relationship than I do, and it isn’t fair to string him along any longer.

  As I walk slowly to the pub where we’re planning to meet this evening, my heart is pounding and I feel sick. I’ve never broken up with anyone before; it’s always been someone else doing it to me. I know how bad I always felt, and I don’t want to be the one to make Danny feel that way. But I have no choice.

  ‘Hey,’ I try and say as casually as I can when I arrive at the pub and see Danny sitting at a table waiting for me. ‘Oh, you’ve got the drinks in already.’

  ‘Is that OK? I got you your usual.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, pulling back a chair and sitting down at the table.

  A double might have been good tonight, I think.

  I take a long sip of the vodka and lemonade and glance around me. I’ve sat in here with Danny and Charlie so many times over the years; like the rest of Sandybridge, it never seems to change that much.

  ‘How were your meetings up at the hall today?’ Danny asks, bringing me back to the present.

  ‘Oh good, thanks, yes.’

  ‘Is everything progressing as you’d hoped?’

  ‘Yes, very well.’

  ‘OK, what’s up?’ Danny asks, leaning across the table towards me. ‘Don’t deny it, I can tell something is.’

  I shuffle my glass about the table, and rearrange my coaster.

  ‘You can tell me, you know. I don’t bite.’ He winks. ‘Not that I wouldn’t want to, you understand…’

  ‘That’s just it!’ I snap, a bit too sharply.

  ‘What is?’ Danny asks with concern.

  ‘I don’t want you to – bite, that is.’ I take a deep breath; this is it. ‘Danny, I really like having you as a friend. There’s not many people who can say their high school sweetheart is now one of their best friends, but I can, and I like that. But that’s all I want. I don’t want to take our relationship any further.’

  My gaze, which has been fixed on the table, now turns towards Danny, and immediately I see sorrow in his eyes.

  ‘And it’s not because of your wheelchair or anything like that,’ I continue, in case he thought it was. ‘Honestly, I don’t have a problem with it.’

  ‘It’s me then, is it?’ Danny asks calmly.

  ‘No, not at all, I think you’re great. Just not in that way.’

  Danny nods, and his gaze drops now so he looks down into his lap. It remains there for the next few seconds.

  ‘I’m sorry, Danny,’ I tell him. ‘If it could be any other way…’

  Danny’s face lifts, and to my surprise it doesn’t look sad or forlorn, but amused.

  ‘Gracie, I think you’re amazing,’ he says, while I watch him in confusion. ‘But sometimes you are a bit dense.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, still no wiser.

  ‘We’ve been dating regularly for what, three months?’

  I nod.

  ‘And in that time have you ever shown me any… how can I put this… affection? I don’t mean friendly affection; I mean lustful affection.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘So why would I think you wanted anything other than a friendship with me?’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Of course I would have loved for that side of things to take off – you know how much I care about you.’ He pauses for a moment and we both hold each other’s gaze. ‘But I’m not silly, Grace, I can tell when a woman is interested and, more importantly in your case, when she isn’t.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Danny,’ I say, taking his hand. ‘I wish things were different.’

  ‘No you don’t. You’re quite happy being my friend when your heart lies elsewhere.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come on, Grace. I know I said you were dense before, but you’re not that bad. It’s Charlie, isn’t it?’ he continues when I don’t respond. ‘It’s always been him. Probably since we were kids. Charlie is the one you really love.’

  Thirty-Ni
ne

  I watch Charlie as he hands drinks out in the cottage at our little pre-Christmas gathering.

  Lighthouse Cottage is looking beautiful tonight; we’d bought the biggest Christmas tree we could fit into the sitting room, and decorated it with pretty lights and decorations bought from one of the craft shops on Sandybridge High Street. Then we’d hung even more tiny white lights over the archway outside the door, intertwined with the remnants of clematis and roses that grow there in the summer months. There’s a roaring fire burning in the hearth, over which hang three stockings – one for each member of the household.

  Tonight the cottage is filled with friends and family, all happily sipping on punch and munching mince pies as they chat and laugh with their fellow guests.

  The picture I see before me is like a scene from a Hollywood Christmas movie it’s so perfect, and I hug myself with pleasure at being one of the people who’s created it.

  Charlie winks at me as he passes by with a tray of punch – he’s in his element being the host. But tonight, instead of it being industry people he’s trying to impress, it’s people we care about, and it’s clear from the smile on Charlie’s face that this is making him extremely happy. And when Charlie is happy, so am I, I’ve grown to realise over the years. But tonight something is different, something has changed, and I’m still trying to come to terms with what exactly that is.

  After the evening at the pub with Danny, I’d spent a lot of time thinking. Thinking about Charlie, thinking about Sandybridge, and thinking about my life.

  Charlie has been a part of my life since I was a teenager. Yes, we’ve had times apart over the years, but we’ve never stayed far from each other for long. I’ve been there for him in good times and bad, as he’s been there for me. We’ve celebrated important occasions together, and commiserated with each other when things have gone wrong. We’re even living together now; Charlie isn’t in Sandybridge too often, but when he is, Ava and I enjoy our time here in Lighthouse Cottage all the more.

  ‘Penny for them?’ Mum asks, walking over towards me carrying a glass of punch. ‘You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders standing there.’

  ‘Oh no, I was just thinking how wonderful it is to see so many people we care about in one room tonight, and how much Ava and I enjoy living here at the cottage with Charlie.’

  ‘Well of course you both love living here with Charlie; I was never in any doubt you would. It was you, Grace, that was the sticking point.’

  I raise my eyebrows at my mother; I can feel a lecture coming on. I make a mental note while I wait for Mum to get into full flow, never to lecture Ava in this way.

  ‘Getting away from Sandybridge was all you ever wanted, Grace. You seemed to think life would always be better if you went somewhere else, and it probably was for a while. I would never have wished for you to stay here for ever.’

  ‘You wouldn’t?’ I ask, surprised to hear this.

  ‘No, of course not. When you were younger you needed to see the world a little, live life with no ties. But then you had Ava, and things changed.’

  Worryingly, Mum is actually making a lot of sense.

  ‘Ava is happy living by the seaside,’ Mum continues. ‘She gets to play in the fresh air with her new friends, and go to a school she loves and feels safe at.’

  I nod. Ava does love school.

  ‘And you, Grace, you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Even though you fought against it, you’ve come back home. You’re doing a job you love, and you’re living with your beautiful daughter and your best friend in this beautiful little cottage. What could be better than that?’

  I shrug. ‘Nothing, I guess. I just never thought I’d end up back in Sandybridge living with Charlie.’

  ‘And that’s bad because…?’

  ‘It’s not. It’s… unexpected, I suppose.’

  ‘Life has a funny way of working like that, Grace. Sometimes the things you expect to happen don’t, but other things come along instead that are better than your original plan.’

  I think about this. It’s a bit like the advice that Remy’s given me over the years. At the time it often didn’t appear to be good, but somehow it always works out for the best in the end.

  I’ve never told anyone about Remy; it’s a secret I’ve kept for nearly thirty years. And it isn’t as if I’m suddenly going to tell anyone that I have a fortune-telling typewriter – they might have me sectioned. Remy’s something I still don’t understand, and probably never will. But he’s been a part of my life for a long time, and I hope he always will, a bit like Charlie.

  ‘You know what, Mum?’ I say, turning towards her. ‘I totally agree with everything you’ve just said.’

  ‘Well,’ Mum says, smiling proudly, ‘that’s something I never thought I’d hear you say.’

  The cottage doorbell rings.

  ‘I’ll go!’ I call. ‘Thanks, Mum!’ I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘For everything.’

  I push through the crowd of people we have packed into the little cottage tonight, and head for the door.

  ‘Hey, you made it,’ I say as I open the door to find Danny. ‘I wasn’t sure you would.’

  ‘Never miss a party me!’ Danny says, wheeling himself over the small step and into the cottage. He reaches into the side of his chair and produces a bottle of wine. ‘Here, I brought you this.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the bottle from him.

  ‘Is that mistletoe?’ Danny asks, looking up.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I say, following his gaze.

  ‘Well, this is!’ Danny says, pulling a bunch from the other side of his chair. ‘Now, you’re not going to deny me a Christmas kiss this time, are you?’ Grinning, he holds up his mistletoe.

  ‘Are you talking about that time we were at the train station on our way home from uni? That was years ago, and it wasn’t me that stopped you. I seem to remember it was Charlie who interrupted us.’

  ‘Ah, Charlie – we’ll talk about him in a minute. I want to hear what you’re going to do about him. But first my kiss!’

  I lean down to Danny’s height, and aim for his cheek, but Danny quickly twists his face around so I end up kissing his lips instead, and immediately I’m transported back to the 1980s and the first time I kissed him.

  My eyes closed, I allow myself to linger there for a tiny bit longer than I should, and as I pull away I open them again to find Danny looking up at me.

  ‘Best mistletoe kiss ever,’ Danny whispers.

  I reach out and gently caress his face, running my fingers down his cheek.

  ‘Be happy, Gracie,’ he says.

  ‘You too, Danny,’ I whisper back.

  ‘Grace, do you have any more coasters?’ Olivia asks, coming into the hall. ‘I’m worried about your lovely furnit— oh, sorry!’ she apologises, her cheeks flushing pink as she sees us.

  ‘Nothing to be sorry for,’ I reply, hurriedly standing up. ‘Olivia, this is Danny, a very old friend of mine. Danny, this is Olivia, she works at the shop with Mum.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Danny says, eyeing Olivia. ‘I’ve seen you in there.’

  ‘And you’re the man that runs that fantastic children’s charity. I’ve heard all about you from the WI ladies.’

  ‘My reputation precedes me!’ Danny grins.

  ‘I’d love to hear more about it sometime… if you’re ever free?’ Olivia shakes her long blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘It sounds amazing.’

  I smile. Is Olivia hitting on Danny? Danny wouldn’t be used to that, it was usually the other way around!

  ‘No time like the present,’ Danny says, raising his dark eyebrows at Olivia. ‘How about we go through and get a drink, then we can chat?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Olivia says, forgetting all about her coaster emergency, as she and Danny head through to the lounge together.

  I pause for a moment alone in the hall. That was something I hadn’t foreseen coming. But Remy had sugg
ested I hold a party; obviously he knew something I didn’t – as usual.

  I should ask him, I think, as I stand in the hall. I should ask him the question. The question. The one I’ve wanted an answer to for a very long time…

  Dear Grace,

  You will have the answer to the question that is troubling you soon.

  I am unable to say more at present.

  But patience is your friend right now. I promise.

  Love, Me x

  Forty

  Christmas seems a long time ago, I think as I stand in the grounds of Sandybridge Hall looking down to the lake.

  Eight months have gone by since that day I walked around here with Charlie, and rather than a mist hanging over the lake and my feelings, now I can see shards of light dancing merrily off the top of the water, as the sun shines down on Sandybridge Hall on this beautiful August day.

  What a perfect day for the new owner of Sandybridge Hall to be making his first visit, I think as I shuffle awkwardly in my stiletto-heeled shoes. I’m dressed to impress today, I won’t deny it. I’ve even broken a dress free from my wardrobe, so used to providing me with jeans, T-shirts and jumpers.

  I don’t feel all that comfortable, but I have to be content with the thought I look good. Well, good in a smart and professional sense anyway.

  The email arrived just over a week ago – from the mysterious Mr Braithwaite himself this time rather than my usual contact, Sue – announcing that he was going to visit Sandybridge Hall to see how the renovations were coming along.

  I was pleased to report back that the work was almost complete, and likely to be finished ahead of our original predicted timescale of twelve months.

  He seemed suitably pleased to hear this, and we arranged a time for him to come and visit.

  ‘You’re actually going to meet this mysterious Mr Braithwaite at last?’ Charlie exclaimed, when I told him one morning over breakfast. ‘Is he coming in a big black car with blacked out windows so no one recognises him?’

  ‘I highly doubt it,’ I reply, standing up to begin clearing the table. ‘Have you finished with your cereal, Ava?’