Maddie pulled Kit’s arm, excited. ‘And I said Mummy could give you the cushion after all.’
Dora raised her eyebrows. ‘We agreed it, Maddie. Remember, we’ve talked about it a few times, and because it belongs to both of us, we had to agree, didn’t we?’
Maddie was dancing on tip-toe. ‘And we always had to agree if it was washed,’ she told Kit, ‘because it’s an Air Room, isn’t it Mummy?’.
‘Heirloom, Mads,’ said Dora. ‘But we thought we’d just give it to Kit because it belongs here, in the Lighthouse, doesn’t it, darling?’
Maddie nodded at her mother. ‘Yup. Kit’s got a picture too. Let’s hang it near the cushion.’
‘What picture?’ Dora followed Maddie into the hallway.
‘Look!’
Dora looked, and laughed. ‘Oh that’s like those old ones of Dad’s. I think his generation were always out in the landscape, it’s sweet. See if anyone signed it, Mads darling.’
Kit’s voice boomed for a syllable then subsided to a groan. ‘Dora, where have you got to? And what cushion are you talking about? Christ, I’ve got a headache.’ He wanted to sit down. His hangover was lurking behind every blink of his eyes, or so it seemed. A proper breakfast in a house with straight walls was what he wanted. A vision of Luisa leaning over a table wreathed in the aroma of coffee and bacon floated before him. He was beginning to miss his solitary life in Cornwall.
Maddie appeared beside him. ‘Come and see. It’s in the kitchen. I put that puppy on it. She looked so sweet.’ She led the way, skipping ahead. The cushion was still in the middle of the kitchen floor. Maddie pounced on it and brought it over.
‘It’s for you.’ She thrust it towards him.
Kit laughed. ‘I like your delivery methods,’ he said.
‘Our housewarming present.’ Dora and Maddie exchanged a look brimming with excitement.
‘What’s this?’ Kit got the message that this was a big deal for them, and had removed his sunglasses to examine the embroidered picture. He looked sharply at Dora, then back at the cushion and whistled a long slow note.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Well I never.’ A blue background, a red striped tower, cliffs foaming with the crests of waves. It all belonged to the Kings Sloley Lighthouse. The stitching, the looping signature, the colours and the patterns, however, belonged somewhere quite different.
His mind whirled, he opened his mouth to thank them. ‘How thoughtful. It’s beautiful, Dora. It’s old, I think, where did you find it?’
Maddie brushed her hand over the picture, and a frown puckered on her forehead.
‘On the sofa at home. Don’t you want it? We thought you would be so pleased.’
Dora was eager to show the detail to him. ‘We thought that with your fabric business and everything you’d love it. I know it’s a funny present to give to a man, really, but it captures the Lighthouse so brilliantly, don’t you think?’
Kit had not moved. He held the cushion on his hands, absorbing everything about it. It was as if a lid had been taken off a box and the memories fluttered around him. The Lighthouse had been embroidered in silk, using tiny stitches, and followed through to the finest details. Nothing had been left to chance, nothing forgotten. There was a red bucket on the doorstep. Kit could make out a scatter of different small flowers by the gate, poppies a tone or two darker than the stripe of the walls, blue cornflower stars, and a pair of seagulls floating in the sky. On the sea, an angular grey ship lay beneath the horizon, turrets and a sliver of mast hinting at its past. The Lighthouse itself commanded centre stage and, even allowing for the fade of colour over time, was still as bold and beautiful as a jewel. Kit was caught by something he saw at a window just below the light. A snippet of curtain had been embroidered. A flash from within, skilfully suggesting depth. A tiny pattern of peacocks exquisitely drawn on the detail of the tapestry.
He sighed, tearing his eyes from the design. ‘Of course I want it!’ he said. ‘And yes! I’m very pleased. It’s beautiful, it’s beautiful,’ he repeated. ‘And you’re right, this is where it belongs.’
He rubbed his hand across his face. ‘Where did you say it came from?’
Chapter 10
Luisa was beating batter to make pancakes. Lunch had changed to brunch because no one was up so there hadn’t been any breakfast yet, and no one would want orange and watercress salad and frozen pepper gazpacho. Hangovers required bacon and pancakes. Ladling batter from the bowl to the pan, she trailed a puddle across the hotplate and watched it blacken and burn. Her mind was full of snatches of the evening before, and she hummed, dumping a pile of forks on the table beside the stacked plates. She wasn’t in the mood to lay the table, she didn’t want to create an occasion. Ever since she’d got up she’d been edgy.
‘Hungover, are we?’ She spun round, startled. Tom’s gaze held a challenge. ‘Here, you need a bit of zest,’ he added, and threw a lemon.
‘No! I can’t,’ she wailed, ducking. ‘I can’t catch it.’ The lemon hit the wall behind her, ‘See?’
‘You should have more faith,’ said Tom. ‘Here, have another go.’
‘Tom!’ she shrieked. ‘Don’t. You know I’m useless at this.’ He lobbed another, Luisa stuck out her hand, more in self-defence than with any hope of catching the lemon mid-air.
‘My God!’ she laughed. ‘I caught it!’
Tom’s nod was curt. ‘More faith in me,’ he muttered, dusting his hands on his trousers and pouring himself coffee.
‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’ Luisa pushed her hair back with her forearm. ‘Such a great evening, I thought.’
Tom yawned and stretched. ‘Great place. Never thought anything could be done with those old lighthouses, but Kit’s really turned it around. Luca’d like to move in there I think. And Mae.’
Luisa returned to the pancakes. ‘I know. Even Jay Hopkins was full of compliments. I didn’t know he was into interior decor, but he said he thought Kit should be on one of those prime location shows on TV.’
Tom poured more coffee and gave a cup to Luisa. ‘You’d be better on a dance show,’ he said, his face deadpan. ‘You know, Strictly what ever. You danced for hours.’
‘I love dancing.’ Luisa waved her wooden spoon, turning towards the radio which was on in the background. ‘I could dance now, I just need a partner. Breakfast’s ready, by the way.’ She glanced at the triple clocks. ‘Or should I say lunch, it’s almost one. Where are the kids? And Dora’s supposed to be here. Let’s ring her.’ She looked round, but Tom had gone, his voice floated back from the hall.
‘I’ll be back, I’ll call the kids. Are they even here?’
Luisa smiled to herself and, humming, turned up the volume on the radio.
Last night had been like a wonderful spell. Excitement winged through the air, cinders crackling and leaping, through the music and the alcohol and the uncharacteristic warmth of the night. Kit might have been new, but he had a knack for making people feel welcome, and the Lighthouse was thrown open, every room lit with candles, sparse furniture and the odd dash of colour.
‘Where did he get all that stuff? It’s great.’ Dora, usually quick to see room for improvement, was enchanted. ‘This place is heaven,’ she said. ‘Kit’s somehow found his way to that junk shop I love, Luisa, and he’s plundered her textiles. Look at this patchwork.’
‘Isn’t it beautiful.’ Luisa opened her mouth to tell Dora she’d sent Kit to the junk shop, then she shut it again. Kit had come over and asked her to dance, and the moment passed.
‘Ow,’ she was holding her hand under the kitchen tap, waiting to feel hot water, and had forgotten about it, her mind full of the joy of dancing under the stars, dancing anywhere. It was so much fun. Luisa shook the colander of rinsed strawberries and tipped them into a bowl. They shone, water droplets like beads quivering on the red flesh. Last night she had danced until her knees actually shook. Where the energy came from, she didn’t know. She bit the end off a strawberry and shut her eyes.
Euphor
ia, that’s what it was. Kit had set her off laughing, and the laughter was like rocket fuel for dancing, especially with all that alcohol. She was euphoric. Though Dora had been cross and said she knew another word for it. They were in the doorway as the party vibrated around them. Beyond them embers flew like dragonflies, and the moon raced creamy and voluptuous above the sea. ‘Look at the night, Dora, this is heaven, don’t be cross, please.’
‘Well, stop behaving like a crazy teenager.’
‘I’m not!’ Luisa wailed. ‘Why can’t I have fun?’
‘You can,’ hissed Dora, ‘but just try to tone yourself down a bit. That dress is too tight for a start.’
‘Oh shut up,’ Luisa had flounced away. She wanted to dance more. Tom had gone off to help someone pull their car out of the field. Secretly, she had to admit, she quite liked the feeling of being a naughty teenager. Suddenly she understood the power of sulking, as displayed so often by Mae. Where was Mae, come to think of it? She would find her and persuade her to dance. She had spun round to find Kit right behind her. Churlish not to dance with him again, especially as he caught her hand, held it high, looked at her and said, ‘You look incredible.’
That was probably the moment she’d felt most electric all evening. And she had to make sure her back was very straight and that she stood tall because the dress was tight. So tight she’d had to use the hook of a coat hanger to do up the zip, but who needed to be told that? No one. Mind you, it was pretty obvious, as she noticed when she’d turned sideways in front of her bedroom mirror, and saw a poured-in silhouette, all curves and cleavage that she couldn’t possibly pretend was appropriate for a barbecue where she was actually cooking, but never mind.
She remembered once reading in a novel that the hero had ‘raked’ the heroine with his eyes. It sounded painful, but Kit did it. So did Tom, and he also patted her shoulder and said, ‘Good effort, Tod,’ as though she was a rugby forward in his team.
‘That’s some dress,’ said Kit as they danced, ‘You look—’ he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket with a flourish Luisa had noticed was an habitual gesture. ‘Well, let’s just say I don’t think the Lighthouse had ever seen anything to equal you.’
Today, Luisa found she was suffused with a gnawing regret for the things she had never done. She hadn’t ridden a motorbike or slept in a gypsy caravan, she hadn’t travelled round the world or lived in another country, and she hadn’t kissed the wrong man.
Tom had stood chatting by the fires while she danced with Kit. He drank beer from the bottle, and when she broke away from Kit and walked over to him, he put his arm round her to whisper, ‘Please don’t make me dance, Tod’ and her euphoria evaporated, leaving her feeling like a limp balloon. The pounding heart, the static in the air as she danced was easily crushed. The thrill was ultimately just a moment. Luisa had put her apron on, and hidden herself behind her formidable batterie de cuisine, a barricade of spatulas, wooden spoons, baking trays and sharp knives. Luisa was aware of Kit as he wove in and out of the crowd, filling glasses. Luisa had arranged sausages in rows, shook out salad, scattered flower heads on top of the leaves and checked the fridge where the pudding waited, formidable and over-ambitious, a floating island ice cream construction cut to look like the cliffs.
‘Will it last?’ Tom had leaned in as she shut the fridge door.
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. It’s risky, but we’ll see.’ She had a small toy lighthouse in her hand. Tom looked at it.
‘That’s nice. Thoughtful,’ he said.
An explanation burst out of her. ‘I got it in the newsagent in Blythe. It’s nothing really, but I thought it was too good to resist. I’ll put it on the pudding when I bring it out.’
The night sky was purple over the sea, the horizon a pale fire flickering in the distance. ‘The Northern Lights,’ Tom told Mae.
‘They look like a lava lamp,’ she commented.
Luisa brought out the Cliff Top dessert in flames, Luca at her side with his lighter poised, feeding more brandy onto the surface.
Kit was touched by the trouble Luisa had gone to. ‘That’s a real show stopper,’ he finally said, after the general applause had subsided. ‘You are a force of nature, Luisa, there are no other words for it.’
Luisa didn’t look up, she was intent on rebalancing the teetering toy lighthouse, which wanted to career over the cliffs, rather like Virginia Woolf, she’d suddenly thought. Oh, but she was mixing everything up. There was a book about a lighthouse. Poor old Virginia had actually thrown herself in a river with stones in her pockets.
Kit tapped a glass with a knife. Luisa wasn’t sure if he was drunk, but she knew Tom was. She saw him on the edge of the light thrown by the fire, his head back as he downed a glass. She felt cut loose, reckless. Kit’s eyes were on her every time she looked at him.
She tossed her hair off her shoulders. The party fell quiet, someone turned the music down, and the sea breathed a hush over everyone.
‘Superb dinner, thanks to Luisa.’ His glance took in the range of guests, and Luisa sensed him choosing a line. ‘I think most men here will agree that it’s way off beam to believe that we blokes only want one thing. We also want food.’ A crack of laughter showed he was spot on. Her shoulders, which she hadn’t realised were tense with a degree of trepidation for him, relaxed.
‘I want to thank you all for welcoming me to Kings Sloley. I didn’t know I had a connection here until very recently, and now I have a lighthouse and all of you new friends.’
There was further clapping, and Luca turned the music up again. Luisa stood on the edge of the rug, hugging herself. The air was a delicate veil across her skin. A few people, Dora and Mae and a couple of other girls and some children, were all dancing. Luisa shut her eyes. Flames from the bonfire threw dramatic shadows across the Lighthouse walls, turning the dancers into spirits conjured from the depths of the sea, the earth and the fire.
‘What’re you looking at?’ Kit was beside her.
‘They look like nymphs,’ she said.
‘They do? That’s one way of looking at them I guess. I see something more straightforward – the extras from a cult film, for example.’ He looked at Luca, and Mae, who, with a couple of others, were collapsing with laughter as they inhaled the helium from Maddie’s bunch of balloons, and then spoke in fast, ludicrously squeaky voices. Luisa caught the infectious laughter and began giggling.
Kit’s hands were clasped on the top of his head as he turned a full circle, taking in everything. ‘I’ve never given a party where the thing everyone has in common is the only thing I don’t share with them,’ he said.
‘What? Is it a riddle? If it is, the answer’s usually an egg.’ Luisa dragged her gaze from the heap of teenagers, collapsed with laughter.
‘You all belong,’ Kit said. ‘I’m the outsider.’
Luisa shook her head. She’d drunk enough to be forthright with him, she felt superhuman, wise and utterly happy. ‘No! It’s the opposite, silly! The thing we all have in common is you.’
‘Me? Not sure about that.’
Luisa could feel his body heat at her side. It was getting late, the evening was cooler now. ‘Come on, let’s dance,’ she pulled him towards the music.
She’d thought, as she twirled in the dark, breathless, unable to stop, that she would pay for her fun the next day. But oddly, she wasn’t really hungover. All that laughing probably sorted it. Didn’t it bring oxygen to the brain? She picked up her phone to send Kit another text. She’d already thanked him in one earlier, and now that didn’t seem enough. She would ask him to lunch. Now. Oh dear, she should have thought of it sooner.
She scrolled idly through her phone, deleting old messages, wondering what to write. Suddenly she noticed a text she hadn’t opened.
Got you in my mind’s eye, dancing. Sweet dreams Kx
It had been sent at 2.41 a.m. Straight after the party. Her throat tightened, and a prickle of embarrassment crawled up her chest to her face. She threw the phone on to t
he table, then snatched it back, shoving it in her pocket. She must delete the message. The phone vibrated, she didn’t look at it. At the same moment, the house phone rang, and a gurgle from the computer in the corner of the kitchen announced a Skype call. Luisa fought an impulse to hide under the table. The smell of burnt butter forced her back to the cooker. One blackened pancake glared back at her. She threw the whole frying pan into the sink.
‘Oh God,’ she muttered, reaching for the computer to answer the Skype call. She wanted to talk to Ellie, no one else. There she was, pixillated but present. Luisa was instantly cheered.
‘Ellie! Hi there, sweetheart. I’m just making pancakes. What are you up to?’ It would have been impossible just a matter of a week ago, but she hadn’t spared a thought for her beloved eldest child for days. ‘We’ve been so busy here, and there’s so much to tell you. I can’t remember when we last spoke. Weren’t you off on some trek? Anyway, since then we’ve got a new neighbour and—’
‘Mum! Keep still, can’t you?’ Ellie’s voice was scarcely audible above the background street sounds. Luisa drank a glass of water. Ellie was surrounded by alien sounds, the spattering of a clapped out engine, a cacophony of car horns and tuk tuks beeping and tooting, and the storm of busy chatter surrounded Ellie.
‘Gosh, it’s so colourful,’ she said. ‘Oh Ells, you look lovely,’ Luisa couldn’t really believe that she was somewhere so vibrant, it was like a filmset. The other Skype conversations they’d had had all been in hostels and hotel rooms.
From a Distance Page 19
