Letters from Lighthouse Cottage

by McNamara, Ali

  ‘But it’s possible?’ Charlie winks. ‘Will you text me and tell me if he’s famous when he gets there. I could casually pop by and bump into you both while you’re doing your tour.’

  ‘No!’ I insist, glaring at him. ‘Don’t you dare.’

  ‘Well!’ Charlie says, his eyes wide with amusement. ‘You want to keep the multimillionaire all to yourself, do you?’

  ‘What’s a mini air?’ Ava pipes up. ‘Is it like Minnie Mouse?’

  ‘No, Ava, it’s a person with a lot of money,’ I explain. ‘That’s not the case at all,’ I say, turning back to Charlie. ‘But if he is famous, he might want to keep his visit quiet.’

  ‘So you do think he might be then?’ Charlie grins. ‘I knew it!’

  I shake my head at him, and turn towards the sink. But my mind isn’t on the mugs waiting to be washed; it’s firmly on my mysterious millionaire.

  Our emails hadn’t been confined to simply arranging a time for him to visit; they’d continued into friendly chats about antiques, and collectables, then had moved on to discussions about our lives and families. Although Mr Braithwaite didn’t give much away, I was able to discover he had no children and wasn’t married. But he declined to answer my question about how he’d made his money.

  So as I stand waiting for him to arrive at Sandybridge Hall today, I’m excited to learn what this man is really like, but I’m also hoping he doesn’t turn out to be some sort of gangster or criminal who’s made his money illegally. It would be a complete travesty if I’d done all this work just for some loan shark to come and live here. I’ve grown quite attached to the old house, putting my heart and probably my soul, too, into restoring her to her former glory.

  ‘You mean too much to me not to have someone deserving living in you,’ I whisper, turning to look up at the old house. ‘Fingers crossed it’s going to be OK.’

  I head back up towards the house, and stand at the entrance waiting for the mysterious Mr Braithwaite to arrive. I look at my watch; he should be here any time now.

  As I stand waiting for the moment of truth, I think about all the work that has gone into the house over the last twelve months, and how it’s changed not only over the last year, but since I’d first visited here as a child.

  Charlie had once said that this house was special, and now I’d spent so much time here, I had to agree. For such an old house it wasn’t cold and unwelcoming as some buildings of this age could be; it was warm and inviting, especially with all the new décor, which, even though it’s in keeping with the period, is pretty special.

  I only hope Mr Braithwaite likes it, I think as I stand at the end of the little bridge that leads over to the house. Or all this will have been for nothing.

  ‘What ya looking so scared about?’ a voice calls from across the grass, and I turn to see Charlie striding towards me carrying something under his arm. Winston trots along faithfully behind him.

  Normally any glimpse of Charlie is a pleasant one. But today he’s the last person I want to see.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I hiss, hurrying over towards him. ‘Mr Braithwaite will be here soon. I told you not to come!’

  Charlie’s been spending a lot more time in Sandybridge lately; he’s opened up his office at the lighthouse again and has been working from there as much as he can.

  Although he’s never interfered in anything I’ve done at the house, he’s often been on hand when I’ve needed a bit of help or advice with the renovations, and I’ve really appreciated that. It’s been lovely for Ava and me to have Charlie around, but today he’d promised he’d stay away.

  ‘I won’t get in your way,’ Charlie says, apparently determined to ignore my plea. ‘I thought I’d come and take a look at the old girl before her life changes for ever. Getting a new owner is a very important time for a house.’

  ‘What are you babbling about?’ I ask, my eyes wide.

  ‘A house doesn’t just need an owner; it needs the right owner. Especially one with as much history as this one.’

  I open my mouth to protest, but Charlie continues unabated.

  ‘We’ve both known this house through many owners, Gracie, haven’t we?’

  I nod impatiently and peer down the drive in case a car might be coming.

  ‘But I don’t think it’s ever had the right owner since we first came here.’

  ‘Probably not.’ I take a quick look at my watch. Any minute now…

  ‘Do you remember when we used to talk about what we wanted in our futures, and all you wanted was to travel the world, and all I wanted was to settle down?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do, but do we have to step down memory lane right now, Charlie? Can’t we do this later? Mr Braithwaite will be here at any moment, and I don’t think his first impression of me should be punching someone and dragging them behind a bush!’

  ‘Point taken.’ Charlie turns as if to go, and I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief when he turns back. ‘Oh, I forgot – this package came for you this morning.’ To my horror he puts a brown paper parcel down on the ground next to me, and leans it up against the bridge.

  ‘You’re not going to leave that here, are you?’ I ask, astonished he’s being this silly. ‘Can’t you take it to the cottage and I’ll open it later?’

  Charlie shakes his head. ‘It says urgent on it, so I assumed you might need it immediately. Come on, Winston,’ he calls. ‘Time to go. Gracie doesn’t want us any more.’

  ‘Hey, that’s not fair!’ I call to their departing figures. ‘I just don’t want you at this very moment.’

  But Charlie and Winston are already heading back across the grass.

  Damn, I’m going to have to take the parcel into the house now; it can’t be here when Mr Braithwaite arrives. I grab the brown paper and try to lift the parcel, but the paper is loose so it slides off, leaving two framed oil paintings propped against the bridge.

  ‘Paintings? I didn’t order any paintings,’ I say, turning them over so I can see them.

  The first is a painting of some dogs waiting for their dinner in a Victorian kitchen. ‘This is the same painting Simon bought at Danny’s auction!’ I exclaim, looking at it. ‘Why is it here?’

  I look at the signature on the picture, and see that it is indeed the original oil painting, the one with dogs that looked like Wilson and Winston. I’d loved that painting when I saw it for the first time – both Charlie and I had, actually – but why is it here now? I’ve spent months tracking down paintings that once belonged to the Sandybridge estate or were in keeping with the décor of the house, but this particular painting hadn’t come up in any auction or sale. So why had someone sent it to me?

  I take a look at the second picture, and again it’s immediately familiar, but I’m not so sure where I’ve seen this one before.

  It’s another oil painting, this time of a sandy-haired woman sitting at a writing desk; in one hand she clutches a quill pen, and her other hand is holding down a piece of white parchment on her desk, so she looks like she’s writing a letter.

  ‘Oh, I know!’ I exclaim. ‘This painting was in that box I found upstairs when Charlie and I went exploring all those years ago. But why is it here now in this parcel with the other picture?’

  I stare hard at the painting. The woman’s face looks so familiar to me, just as it had when I’d first seen it many years ago.

  Then I realise why.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ I say to no one but the house behind me. ‘How did I not know? How have I never realised this before?’

  Then, forgetting all about the imminent arrival of the mysterious Mr Braithwaite, I grab the paintings, tuck them both under my arm, and run.

  Forty-One

  ‘It was you!’ I cry, flinging open the door of Lighthouse Cottage. ‘It was you that sent these paintings to me! But why?’ I ask as I burst into the kitchen and find Charlie sitting at the kitchen table with Winston by his side.

  ‘Did you look at them?’ Charlie asks calmly.

&nbs
p; ‘I did.’

  ‘And what did you see?’

  ‘This is the painting that we both liked at Danny’s auction,’ I say, holding up the painting of the dogs. ‘And this’ – I put the painting of the woman on the table in front of him – ‘is you.’

  Charlie looks at the painting. ‘Well, it’s not actually me,’ he says. ‘It’s one of my ancestors. Her husband was the owner of Sandybridge Hall in the nineteenth century. I must say, there is an uncanny resemblance there though.’

  ‘One of your ancestors? But how… I mean, what…’

  ‘I’m adopted, remember? I never knew my real family. But I always wondered, though I didn’t get very far when I attempted to trace them myself. So last year I hired an expert, the best in the business, and I was absolutely staggered when he was able to trace my real family back as far as this lady.’ Charlie taps the gilt frame of the painting.

  ‘But…’ I still can’t quite get my head around all this. ‘You mean, you’re related to the owners of Sandybridge – the Claymore family?’

  Charlie nods. ‘My real mother was a teenager at the time she got pregnant and apparently it would have brought shame on the Claymore family if she’d kept me, so I was given away at birth. That’s why it was so difficult to trace my heritage: I was a secret no one talked about.’

  ‘Oh, Charlie,’ I say, my shock turning to sorrow. ‘That’s so sad.’

  Charlie shrugs. ‘I can’t complain. I had a good childhood, and it wasn’t like it was a big secret I was adopted. My family were completely open about it. It kind of explains why I always loved this place though, and why I always felt happy here. Sandybridge is my family home.’

  ‘Is your real mother still alive?’ I ask.

  Charlie shakes his head. ‘No, sadly she was killed in a road accident some years ago – hit by a car. Which is a bizarre coincidence, when you think about what happened to me outside Sandybridge.’

  This gets weirder by the second. I shake my head. ‘This is all such a shock, Charlie. I can’t quite believe it’s happening.’ I think for a moment. ‘So if Sandybridge Hall is your family home, was it you that bought it? Are you the mysterious Mr Braithwaite?’

  Charlie shakes his head. ‘I wanted to be. When I found out about my family connection to the house, I tried really hard to buy the place when it came up for sale, but I was outbid.’

  ‘By who?’ I ask, surprised. I’d been convinced Charlie must be my mysterious boss.

  ‘By me,’ Danny says, appearing from the lounge. ‘I bought Sandybridge Hall.’

  ‘You?’ I exclaim, turning towards him. ‘But why would you buy it?’ I have to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. This was all getting a bit much now.

  ‘Because I wanted to put the place to good use this time. I didn’t want to see it become a restaurant, or a party venue again. I was going to transform the house into a rehabilitation centre for my charity. Use the grounds, everything.’

  I frown. ‘In that case, why have I spent the last year restoring the house to its Tudor beginnings, if you’re planning to rebuild it?’

  Danny looks at Charlie.

  He nods.

  ‘It was Charlie’s idea,’ Danny explains. ‘We both wanted you to stay in Sandybridge, and this seemed the perfect way of getting you to stay here permanently, by offering you your dream job.’

  ‘You mean you concocted this whole thing between the two of you?’ I stare in bewilderment at the two of them.

  Charlie and Danny both nod.

  ‘Charlie put the extra money in for the restoration,’ Danny tells me. ‘But we decided to keep quiet about it, because we weren’t sure you’d take the job if you knew it was us.’

  ‘We both care about you, Gracie,’ Charlie says now. ‘And we wanted you to be happy.’

  ‘But why invent the mysterious Mr Braithwaite?’ I ask, still trying to piece all this together. ‘Why not tell me the truth?

  Charlie and Danny both grin like the schoolboys I once knew.

  ‘You tell her, Danny. This bit was your idea,’ Charlie offers.

  ‘Do you remember the name of the boy who held the football party we all first met at?’ Danny asks.

  ‘Seriously? You expect me to remember something that happened almost thirty years ago?’

  They both nod.

  I sigh. ‘Right…’ I think hard, trying to run through all my ex-classmates’ names as fast as I can.

  ‘Duncan!’ I cry. ‘There, is that enough for you? Duncan Braithwaite… Wait!’ I look with suspicion at them both as I realise. ‘You are kidding me! That’s how you came up with the name?’

  The boys grin.

  I shake my head again as the final pieces fall into place. ‘So you’ve succeeded in keeping me here… and I’ve nearly finished restoring Sandybridge Hall. What happens now?’

  Danny looks at Charlie. ‘Your turn, mate.’

  ‘Danny offered to give me the hall when he found out it was my family’s home, but I insisted on paying him for it.’

  ‘Paying my charity,’ Danny corrects.

  ‘Donating to his charity,’ Charlie continues. ‘In return, we’re going to build a rehabilitation centre in the grounds, once the restoration is finished, somewhere away from the house so it can have its own private entrance.’

  ‘So everyone is a winner,’ Danny says, looking extremely pleased with himself. ‘My charity gets a new home, and Charlie’s ancestral home is returned to its rightful owner.’

  I look back and forth between the two of them. I’ve waited for years to see them getting on together, yet now that day is finally here I feel a bit cheated.

  ‘Well, it seems everyone has the happy ending they deserve,’ I tell them. ‘But explain this to me: what will I do when the renovations are finished? My job will be over. What am I supposed to do then?’

  ‘Time for me to go,’ Danny announces. He wheels himself over and kisses me on the cheek, then as he passes Charlie on his way out, he pats him on the back and says, ‘It’s all yours, Charlie boy. Good luck.’

  I watch Danny wheel himself out of the kitchen, and then I turn to Charlie. ‘What does he mean: “It’s all yours”?’

  Forty-Two

  Charlie comes over to my chair and takes hold of my hand. He kneels down in front of me and for one mad moment I think he might be about to propose, but he doesn’t. Don’t be daft, Grace, I tell myself. Why would he do that? The last few minutes have definitely messed with your mind!

  ‘I can see you’re upset,’ Charlie says gently, ‘but you must know we only did all this because we love you.’

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘And I should be grateful to you both – restoring Sandybridge Hall has been a dream job for me. But I can’t help feeling like I’ve been duped. I thought I gained that job on my own merits.’

  ‘You did!’ Charlie insists. ‘Of course you did. No one could have restored Sandybridge Hall with as much care and love as you have. You were the perfect person to do it, and if I may say so, the perfect person to live there in the future.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean? Why would I live there when the hall belongs to you, Charlie? You’re lord of the manor now.’

  ‘Not much fun being a lord if you don’t have a beautiful lady to share it with,’ Charlie says, looking up at me.

  I stare at him, not understanding.

  ‘Don’t you know what I’m trying to ask you?’ Charlie says, smiling.

  I still look at him blankly.

  ‘I want you to be my lady, Gracie. I want you to live at Sandybridge Hall with me. You and Ava.’

  ‘B-but why?’ I stutter: the last few minutes have thrown me completely off-kilter.

  ‘Because I love you, Gracie, of course. I always have, since we were teenagers.’

  I continue to stare at him, my brain for some reason not comprehending what he’s saying.

  ‘Yes, I married Louisa,’ Charlie continues, ‘but that was only because I thought I’d lost you to America and then to Simon. I was lonely, Gra
cie, I missed you.’

  I shake my head, as if this might help me understand what’s happening a little better.

  ‘I missed you when you went to university. I missed you when you went travelling and ended up in the States. I missed you when you married Simon – so much it almost broke me. That’s why I closed the lighthouse offices here and moved the business elsewhere. I couldn’t bear the thought I’d lost you for ever, and you’d never return to Sandybridge and to me.’

  ‘Oh, Charlie,’ I whisper.

  ‘And then you did. You and Ava came home. Better than that, you chose to come and live with me. I felt like my life was complete there and then.’ Charlie takes hold of both my hands now. ‘I haven’t bought Sandybridge Hall for me, Gracie – I’ve bought it for us, somewhere we can put down those roots I’ve always talked about.’ He pauses, and his pale blue eyes search my face for an answer before he goes on: ‘I know by asking what I’m about to ask, I run the risk of pushing my best friend away for ever. But I’ve waited a long time for this answer and I have to know. Gracie, is there any chance you could love me in the same way I love you?’

  This time I nod helplessly.

  Charlie beams. ‘I’ve loved you for so long, through all your various incarnations.’

  When I look puzzled, he explains: ‘I’ve loved you with all your weird and wonderful hairstyles over the years – from brunette, to blonde, to redhead, to this’ – he reaches out and gently strokes my hair – ‘your wonderful, natural self. And, contrary to what you think, I’ve loved all your different figures too, whatever size you’ve been, especially the stunning one you have now – gorgeously curvy.’ His other hand reaches around my waist. ‘Gracie, I know this has all been very sudden, but there is something else I need to ask you.’

  I nod.

  ‘It’s taken me nearly thirty years to pluck up the courage to do this, but now you know how I feel, I have to go ahead.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Grace Marie Harper, will you marry me?’

  I nod again, absolutely lost for words.