by Fern Britton
In the mirror, she saw herself. Her father used to describe her as ‘rangy’. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips, long legs. She stared into her own face and wondered where the young Sennen had gone. When had the smooth skin and unhooded eyes been lost among her sun-exposed skin? What would her mother have said to her right now? If things had been different Adela would have enjoyed this shopping trip. She would have loudly complained about expense and the over-commercialisation of two people getting married, but she would have been determined to share the fun. Sennen closed her eyes. Mum? Poppa? Look at me. I’m being Ella’s mum. Helping her to choose her wedding dress. I can hardly believe it and I expect you can’t either. So thank you. Thank you both for looking after her. She is perfect, and I know that that is down to you. Oh, I miss you. And I so wish you were here to see her …
The swish of the fitting room curtain interrupted her. She opened her eyes and gasped as Ella walked out in a confection of tulle, twinkles and hoops that swamped her perfect figure.
Sennen smiled nervously. ‘Wow!’ she managed.
‘It’s not me, is it?’ said Ella.
‘Um … I think you should try a few more before you decide.’ It was as honest as Sennen was prepared to go.
Ella was whisked away again and modelled three more dresses, each more disastrous than the first.
Ella’s spirits were sagging. ‘Mum, maybe this isn’t the shop.’
Erin, never known to lose a customer, sprang into action and tapped something into her iPad. ‘Hang on, there may be just the thing, in the stockroom. We occasionally get sample dresses from the big designers for a very affordable sum. We should have some that have just arrived in stock. She swiped her screen several times then picked up the phone on the desk. ‘I’ll check the stockroom … Hi, Moira, it’s me – has the Wang 2016 come in yet? Yes, I’ll hold.’ She covered the mouthpiece and said, ‘She’s just looking.’ There was a long and silent wait until, ‘Yes, I’m still here … a ten? Terrific!’ She winked at Ella whose eyes were wide and desperate. ‘Okay, thanks, Moira. Bring it up.’ She put the phone down. ‘Right, I’ve got a size ten Vera Wang 2016 – ticket price was two thousand pounds but we have it for seven hundred and fifty.’
Of course it fitted like a glove. A romantic, narrow fall of tulle which briefly hung on Ella’s shoulders then slid over her waist, hips and ankles before puddling at her feet. She stood nervously in front of her mother for the final verdict.
Sennen viewed her as she might an Old Master in the Tate. Her eyes narrowed, her head first on one side then the other. Finally, she said, ‘You look spectacular.’ She stood and put her arms around her elder daughter and held her tight. ‘So, so beautiful. And this is my treat.’
Ella flatly refused. ‘No, Mum. The gift you have given me is you being here.’
‘But I want to give you something special for your wedding day.’
Erin, starting to get tissue paper and dress bags from under the desk was listening and suggested, ‘Will you be wanting a veil?’
Ella looked at Sennen. ‘I would love a veil. But aren’t they very expensive?’
Sennen laughed. ‘Just like your Granny. But in this case I think she would tell you that it is never your extravagances you regret, it’s your economies.’ Then Sennen had an idea. ‘I could make you one. A proper gift from me to you. What do you think?’
‘Would you? Could you?’
‘I’ve earned my living as a seamstress all these years – why not?’
‘And so,’ Ella finished off, ‘I got the most gorgeous dress and then Mum bought the finest chiffon for my veil and that’s all I’m going to tell you.’ She put her hands around Kit’s neck and kissed him. ‘I am so, so, so lucky to have you, and Mum and Henry all here.’
Kit kissed her back. ‘Talking of Henry, I haven’t seen him since the meeting with Deborah.’
Ella smiled naughtily at him. ‘Don’t worry about him. He knows tons of people here who have a sofa to lend him. He’ll come back when he’s ready. But in the meantime, we do have the house to ourselves …’
Henry was spread across Deborah’s sofa, wearing one of her T-shirts and little else. In front of him lay the remains of a cheese and pickle sandwich and two empty cans of lager. He was watching the cricket on Sky. He didn’t take his eyes from the television as his phone rang. ‘Yes?’
‘Nice telephone manner,’ Ella said. ‘You’re alive, then?’
‘Yeah … Ooooh … Howzat!’
She sighed. ‘You’re watching the cricket.’
Sarcasm took over. ‘Oh, hello, Ella, and how can I help you?’
‘You can stop sulking for one thing.’
‘I am not sulking, I’m getting on with my life.’
‘Where? Are you back in London?’
‘Not at the moment.’
Ella was getting irritated. ‘I am not going to play twenty questions with you, just tell me: where the hell are you.’
‘In Trevay, with a friend.’
‘A lady friend?’
‘Not right at this moment, but she will be back later.’
‘I don’t need to know the details. When are you going to come back and face all this stuff with Mum? You have got to let all these feelings of entitlement go. We have Granny and Poppa’s furniture and art, and all our memories of them. She will never have those.’
Henry turned the sound down. He knew that Ella was right, but every time he thought of how his heartbroken grandparents were let down by his mother he was overwhelmed by a sense of injustice.
‘It’s just … oh, I don’t know. It’s just seeing her, here in Trevay. Trying to take over and make everything all right. Well, it isn’t all right. It never will be all right. She doesn’t know them better than us and Granny and Poppa would be spinning in their graves if they knew we were making it easy for her.’
‘No, they wouldn’t,’ Ella said patiently. ‘They loved her and would be glad that we have got her back.’
‘I don’t want her here. She can hop off back to her new lot, never to be seen again as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Actually, she’s staying on for a bit.’
‘Why?’
‘Kit and I are getting married.’
Henry couldn’t help but be happy. ‘Really? That’s great, Ells. Does the poor bloke know what he’s letting himself in for?’
‘Oh, ha ha ha. But Mum is staying for the wedding. She’s making my veil for me and she helped me to choose the dress.’
‘Mommie dearest doing her bit to get you on side?’
Ella sighed. ‘Please, Henry. She’s our mother, and the idea of the art school and everything is a good one and I hate it when you distance yourself from me. Please, could you just try to be a bit more accepting? See things from her point of view?’
‘You mean forgive her?’
‘Eventually.’
‘I’m not as nice as you.’
‘But could you just try? For me? Just until she goes back to India?’
Henry ran a hand over his stubbled chin. ‘For you, Ells Bells, I’ll try.’
32
Sennen was having trouble sleeping. Her dreams were vivid and full of panic. She would find herself running from an unrevealed horror, but her legs wouldn’t work, dragging behind her as if stuck in treacle or cement. Sometimes she’d be drowning in Trevay Harbour, other times she was lost in an Indian town she didn’t know. The sun was beating down bringing the warm scent of the spices to her nose and she was walking in the busy market with her children, Kafir by her side. Then, abruptly, they were gone and she was lost and scared. She knew her family were in danger but her voice didn’t work, and even though she screamed for help, no sound came and no one heard her. She would wake distressed and crying.
That morning, she woke breathlessly trying to quell the panic in her body.
Outside it was still dark and she could hear the patter of soft rain falling on the eaves.
She lay still for a while and tried
to will sleep back to her but it was a fruitless effort. She checked the time. Six fifteen.
A walk, that’s what she needed, to feel the earth under her feet and the elements on her face.
In the silent streets of Trevay she felt like the only person in the world. Down the cobbled lane, right onto Fore Street and then left onto the harbour. Here, there was a sign of human life. She could see the baker and her assistant working away in the kitchen behind the Old Bakery shop. The smell of fresh bread and pasties took her senses straight back to Saturday mornings with Adela, buying long French sticks and doughnuts for the students. On the way back from her walk she promised herself a treat.
On she went, down to the boats drifting on a high tide, the light drizzle cool on her face. She went past the Golden Hind pub, past the lane that led to Pencil House, until she found the start of the footpath that would take her over the cliffs towards the lighthouse and Tide Beach.
The cliff path was steeper than she remembered, but the view, when she finally reached the top, was as spectacular as it had always been. ‘Million-dollar view for nothing,’ her father had always said. Until now, she had never appreciated his words, but standing looking out over a horizon that stretched more than 180 degrees around her, she felt tiny yet huge. Alone but not lonely. Neither happy nor sad. She simply accepted her existence. The rising sun lit a golden path on the ocean below her and behind her a skylark began to sing.
She continued walking, thinking about how she had got to this junction in her life. She wasn’t a bad person, but she had done bad things. Or … were they bad or just wrong? It hadn’t been wrong to have Henry and Ella, but her decision to run away and look for Alan had been. She had hurt her parents, who hadn’t deserved to be hurt, and now she was hurting Kafir, Aali and Sabu.
Henry was rightly angry with her. She had had no idea that her parents were leaving her so much: she had not come for the money, she had come to apologise, reclaim her children and explain why she had left them. Was that selfish too?
But it was the money that was causing so much trouble. Ella didn’t want it. Sennen didn’t want it. Perhaps she should just give it all to Henry? But that didn’t feel right either.
She kept walking and thinking. She passed the lighthouse, crossed Tide Beach and found herself on Shellsand Bay.
The sand dunes glowed gold and the rain had stopped and she spotted a small lobster boat cutting bravely through the waves.
She sat on a barnacled rock and told herself she needed to make a plan.
She must have sat there for over half an hour, cloaked in regret and the desire to make amends.
She heard voices chatting breathlessly before she heard the regular thud of runners’ feet upon the sand.
She looked up. ‘Rosemary!’
Rosemary, red-faced and wearing a neon yellow running jacket and headband, puffed to a halt. ‘Darling, what are you doing up this early?’
‘I might ask the same of you.’ Sennen looked from Rosemary to her companion.
‘This is Jools. My partner,’ Rosemary said. ‘Jools, this is Sennen.’
Jools shook Sennen’s hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’ She smiled. She was in her late forties, Sennen judged, with blond hair tucked behind her ears and an open friendly face.
‘What are you partners in?’ asked Sennen.
Rosemary gave her a mischievous smile. ‘Jools is my girlfriend. She was away on business when you spent the night.’
Sennen’s eyes widened. ‘Oh.’ She tried hard to keep her voice level. ‘Gosh. Fantastic.’
Jools laughed. ‘I think so.’
‘How did you meet?’ Sennen was aware she was gabbling.
‘Very romantically.’ Rosemary took Jools’ hand. ‘She took me to hospital one night after Ray had had a drink too many.’
‘I’m a police officer. Rosemary’s husband had attempted to strangle her.’
‘Oh my God.’ Sennen was horrified. ‘You didn’t tell me about that.’
Jools put her arm around Rosemary. ‘She’s been through a lot, this one.’
Sennen nodded. ‘Including the time I made her run away to Spain with me.’
‘Oh, that was fun,’ Rosemary insisted. ‘Well, it wasn’t then, but it’s a good story now.’
‘Come on,’ said Jools, readying herself to run again, ‘we’ve got another two miles and then it’s coffee.’
‘See you later, Sennen? Coffee in Trevay? Ten-ish?’ shouted Rosemary as she set off.
‘Great. See you then.’ Sennen watched as they jogged off down the beach. ‘Well,’ she said to herself. ‘Life is full of surprises. I never saw Rosemary as a runner.’
From the opposite end of the beach, Kit and Ella, with Terry and Celia chasing a ball, appeared.
‘Is that Mum?’ Ella put her hand up to shield her eyes from the brightness of the rising sun, ‘Look, skimming stones?’
Ella cupped her hands to her mouth and called, ‘Muuum! Mum!’
Somehow the words reached Sennen’s ears on the ragged wind and seeing Ella and Kit she waved.
‘Hi, Mum. You’re up early.’
‘Well, I’ve got lots to think about, haven’t I?’ Sennen hugged them both. ‘Veils, weddings …’ She bent down and tickled the dogs.
‘That’s Celia and this one is Terry,’ said Kit. ‘They are both drama queens but love chasing a ball. Watch.’ He threw the tennis ball into the waves and both dogs sped after it.
‘I have missed the sea,’ said Sennen watching them. ‘Really missed it. Agra is about as far from the sea as you can imagine. I’ve been trying my hand at skimming but I’m so out of practice. Watch.’ She picked up a smooth sliver of slate and, with a flick of her wrist, loosed it at the sea. After two skips it sank. ‘See. Rubbish. Poppa was good but Mum had the talent. Sometimes seventeen or eighteen bounces.’
‘I remember that,’ said Ella. ‘I would usually have my birthday parties on the beach and she would always set up a skimming competition.’
‘She did the same for me too, when I was little.’ Sennen was surprised at how clear the memory was. ‘Shall we have a go, now? Six stones each?’
Celia and Terry thoroughly enjoyed the game and, refusing to chase their tennis ball, began to swim out for the stones.
‘Woohoo!’ shouted Ella, her arms in the air as her last stone reached fourteen bounces. ‘I win.’
‘Oh, that was fun,’ said Sennen breathlessly. ‘I am going to miss you both so much when I go back.’
‘No, you won’t. As soon as we can we’ll come out to see you and meet our new family,’ said Ella stoutly. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘I want that more than anything. I’ll show you both the Taj and we’ll eat wonderful food and you’ll love the market. I would love Henry to come too.’
‘I’m sure he will,’ smiled Ella. ‘He can never bear to be left out of anything.’
Eventually, Sennen left them to return to Trevay, and Kit and Ella headed back towards home.
‘I’ve been wondering,’ Kit said, ‘now that you’ve got your wedding dress, and before it goes out of fashion, or you get too fat for it …’ He dodged a thump from Ella. ‘That maybe, if you’re free over the next couple of weeks, you would consider getting married to me?’
Ella jumped on the spot. ‘You mean, book the church and cake and guests and …?’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘But don’t we have to get a licence and read banns and get blood tests and stuff?’
‘I don’t think we need blood tests, but we can ask Simon about the rest.’
Ella hugged herself. ‘Oh yes! We can just walk next door and into the church. How romantic is that? Hope it doesn’t rain.’
‘You look lovely in the rain.’ He kissed her soft lips then buried his face in her perfumed hair. ‘I have loved you from the first moment I saw you.’
She leant into him and closed her eyes. His arms felt so right as they held her. Six months ago she had no job, no boyfriend and no mother
. Happiness had been sent to her by whatever transient passing fate had decided to drop on her shoulders. She held Kit tighter. ‘I love you more than I can say, Kit. I promise to be a good wife. Faithful. Loyal. I will always be by your side, no matter what.’
‘And I, Kit Beauchamp, promise that I will take care of you always. I will never let you down.’
Sennen walked back along the cliffs to Trevay alone. Her mind was splitting off in so many directions. How long could she feasibly stay? Until Ella was married? She didn’t want to rush Ella and Henry but she also had two little ones.
Should she stay and help to build the art school?
But she wasn’t sure if that was what Ella really wanted, not with Henry’s negative response.
Should she run back to India and never come home again? But what was left in India? Did she have a marriage? Wouldn’t Sabu and Aali be better off without her?
Or should she just run away to another life altogether. Leave both the mess here and in India and build a life somewhere else. She had done it before. She could do it again.
That was the simple solution. Simple for everyone. Clean. Done.
The cliff path was narrow now, the edge very close to the steep drop and the sea. She took a step closer and viewed the broiling waves below, crashing on to the mussel- and limpet-encrusted rocks; sharp and deadly.
She thought back to the stones she had been skimming just a short while ago. One stone could make many ripples. One person could create a storm that drowned others’ lives.
She stepped back from the edge and sat on the grass tufted edge of the path. ‘Where do I belong?’ Her question was ripped away on the wind.
Closing her eyes, she lay back on the soft sward and allowed her senses to take in the thump of the thundering waves, the call of a gull, the chug of a boat’s engine, the fingers of the wind brushing her cheeks and the tangy smell of salt and nature.
