by Liz Eeles
Katrina was the first to pull away. ‘Come with me.’ She linked her fingers through his and started leading him towards the car park. ‘We can go back to mine.’
‘You can’t drive.’
‘Of course I can. I haven’t had that much to drink.’
‘What about Stephen?’ Liam stopped so suddenly, her hand slipped from his.
‘What about him? He’s in New York, I told you.’
Liam shook his head. ‘I can’t.’
‘You don’t have to worry about Stephen. He’s away doing who knows what. We have a very open relationship, if you know what I mean.’
‘I still can’t. I’m sorry, Katrina.’
‘We can go back to yours if you’re going to be all weird about my place.’ There was a petulant tone to her voice as she traced her finger down his arm. ‘Anyway, he’d never know, Liam. He’d never, ever know about us.’
It was so tempting. They could be discreet and the warmth of another person in his bed would be so welcome. Who cared if he was doing the same to Stephen that Deanna had done to him? He never used to care if the women he bedded were already in relationships.
But his heart was different now and, anyway, it wasn’t Katrina he wanted.
He put his hands into his pockets and stepped back. ‘You’re beautiful, Katrina, and most men would kill to spend the night with you, but I can’t start something that could never continue. There’s too much at stake.’ He shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak. ‘I’m sorry. That’s just the way I feel. And it’s not you…’ Oh no, he was spouting a stupid cliché, but on this occasion it was the truth. ‘It’s really not you, it’s me.’
Katrina stood and watched him, an expression of disbelief on her face as he walked away. She’d probably start spreading rumours that he was impotent, and Alex would never let him hear the last of it if he found out. But it was done now and another lonely night with no one but Billy for company beckoned.
CHAPTER 25
‘How come you haven’t got a hangover?’
Matt massaged his temples and stared blearily at Rosie over his Weetabix. She paused from wrapping her mother’s crockery in newspaper and gave him a proper once-over. He’d fallen into a deep sleep the minute they’d got home last night, and he did look a bit rough this morning.
‘I didn’t drink much. I was mostly on orange juice and lemonades.’
‘Very wise. That horrible beer was stronger than it looked.’
‘Did you enjoy the evening?’
‘Yeah, it was amusing.’
‘Amusing? What do you mean?’
‘It was a laugh seeing all the local yokels jigging about to Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran. Honestly, a disco in the village that time forgot! You were so right about this tin-pot little place.’ He glanced through the window at the leaden grey sky. ‘And the weather is freaking awful.’
Rosie sat back on her heels and brushed hair from her face. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever described Heaven’s Cove as tin-pot, and loads of places run eighties discos. It’s fashionably retro.’
‘Moronic, more like,’ grumbled Matt, prodding his spoon into his congealing cereal.
‘I’m quite fond of these people, actually,’ she told him, wondering if Matt classed Liam as a local yokel. Had she once done the same? What a terrible snob she’d been.
Matt ignored her and jabbed at his phone on the worktop, which had just beeped with yet another message. He read it and smiled.
‘Anything important?’
‘Just work stuff. Nothing for you to worry about. Any chance of a cup of tea seeing as we’ve been working so hard?’
Rosie wiped newsprint from her hands onto her jeans and pushed the half-filled cardboard box to one side. Actually, she’d been working hard but Matt not so much. Since getting up, he’d spent most of the time on his phone, complaining about the intermittent signal. But a cup of tea would go down well and she could do with a break.
Matt watched her closely while she filled the kettle and retrieved the teapot from a box. She’d been thinking too much about last night and had packed it by mistake.
‘It must have been awful growing up here in the middle of nowhere,’ said Matt, drumming his fingers on the worktop.
‘Not really. I thought it was the most boring place on earth sometimes but I had loads of space to run around in, and fresh sea air to breathe, and people in the village who looked out for me.’
Matt sniffed. ‘Well, I’m glad I was brought up in exciting London. Get yourself into that Epping bloke’s will and you can buy property there, somewhere like Chelsea or Kensington.’
‘Neither of which have any coastline, and I love the sea.’
‘Blue sea in Spain, sure. Not the freezing cold, grey sea around here.’
‘It can be bracing at times. But we have blue sparkling seas too, you know. And green waves, the colour of moss, that roll into shore. Sometimes the sea looks black when storm clouds are banking on the horizon, or calm and pale as milk. It’s always changing and always beautiful.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Life doesn’t begin and end in London or Spain, Matt. And I don’t want to get myself into Charles Epping’s will. If I do go to see that man, it’s because I’m looking for answers, not a meal ticket.’
‘Chill out, Rosie. Of course getting answers is far more important than any inheritance. Honestly, you’re no fun any more.’
She felt a sharp stab of irritation. She didn’t usually stand up to Matt but he was being a complete arse this morning. ‘Sorry if I’m not the life and soul of the party. My mother’s just died, my childhood home is about to be demolished, and I’ve discovered that my real father isn’t who I thought he was.’
‘I know, babe. It’s all dreadful, but at least I’m here to support you. Come here.’ Matt pulled her into his arms and she rested her head against his chest. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you that cup of tea instead?’ He led Rosie to the stool he’d just vacated and moved his bowl out of the way, though not into the dishwasher, she noticed. ‘While you’re drinking your tea, I’ll have a shower and perhaps a little lie down first because my head is absolutely banging.’
The tea helped. Rosie sipped it slowly and picked up Matt’s spoon, which had dripped milk across the counter. Her distorted reflection in the shiny metal showed up the pale streak of paint in her fringe, as though the secrets swirling around Driftwood House had turned her prematurely grey.
Matt’s vibrating phone made her jump and the spoon clattered onto the worktop. His mobile was driving her mad this morning with its incessant beeping. A quick glance revealed yet another text from Carmen, who was certainly working hard this morning, probably with a hangover too, after her birthday celebrations. Matt, you are always… That was all the preview on the screen revealed.
Rosie hesitated, listening for movement upstairs, before typing in Matt’s code and bringing up Carmen’s text in full.
Matt, you are always such a naughty boy.
What the hell? English was Carmen’s second language and she didn’t always get it right, but even so… Rosie scrolled through Carmen’s text exchange with Matt that morning. The first text had arrived shortly after seven o’clock from Carmen:
Buenos días, Matt. How do you do today?
Matt had replied within two minutes: Muchos bored in Devon and missing España.
Missing only España? was Carmen’s immediate reply.
España, the sunshine, el vino and you of course.
I am horribly missing you too. When do you come back to Málaga?
As soon as possible. This place is doing my head in.
Poor Matt. I will make you feel much better again when you return.
Is that a promise?
Matt, you are always such a naughty boy.
Rosie carefully placed the phone back on the worktop and sipped her tea with shaking hands. Matt was flirting or worse with confident, beautiful Carmen, who could wrap men around her l
ittle finger. Basically, he was cheating on her with the continental version of Katrina.
She should feel angry. She should march upstairs and confront him with the texts, and maybe throw him out of the house. She should at the very least cry. But she continued sipping her tea, too numb to do anything else. Matt had betrayed her, but it was just one more loss in a steady stream of them. Her mother, her childhood home, her beliefs about her parents, and now the boyfriend she thought she knew were all gone, or soon would be. And in three days’ time, she’d be back in Spain and Heaven’s Cove would be gone, too.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the floorboards in the room above. Matt was taking his hangover back to bed. Rosie grabbed her jacket and went out into the gloomy morning, banging the kitchen door behind her.
She walked to the edge of the cliff and stood with her hands on her hips, hair blowing in the breeze. Far below, a curve of sand had almost disappeared under the tide, and waves were churning against the rocks. The sea and sky were slate-grey, mirroring her mood.
It was such a familiar view and one that usually soothed her. But today all she could see were Matt and Carmen kissing in dark corners of the office, in empty apartments for sale, maybe even in Matt’s bed while she was away, the secrecy of it all heightening their excitement. Secrets were everywhere, building like a high tide, and she was drowning in them.
A sudden shaft of sunlight painted a bright stripe across the water, like a path out of Heaven’s Cove. Getting away from here was a good idea. She could carry on selling apartments in the sunshine, find herself a new boyfriend, and put this village and its complications behind her. No family. No Driftwood House. Nothing to hold her back. Nothing to anchor her down.
She could do that, but those secrets would be lead weights around her neck. Rosie looked back at the house, still in shadow, and felt it was watching her in turn, wondering what she was going to do next.
‘I don’t know,’ she shouted, before looking round to make sure no one had heard her. Not content with talking to her dead mother, she was now yelling at condemned bricks and mortar. But the clifftop was empty and the window of her bedroom, where drunken Matt was sleeping off his hangover, was closed.
Drunken, cheating Matt who seemed very interested in even the sniff of an inheritance. Rosie turned her face to the sun and stroked her fingers across the car key nestled in her jacket pocket. She was upset about him and Carmen. Of course she was, and angry that they’d gone behind her back. But it was hard to take the moral high ground when she had a guilty secret of her own.
She closed her eyes, remembering the rush of emotion she’d felt when Liam had pulled her into his arms last night. It had taken her by surprise, as had the vulnerability in his pale blue eyes. The dance had been magical – she hadn’t wanted it to end – and when Matt had drunkenly kissed her, back at Driftwood House, she’d wished it was Liam’s lips on hers instead.
There, that was her confession. One that Matt didn’t deserve to hear and Liam wouldn’t want to hear, especially if he ever found out that Charles Epping might be her father. Like mother, like daughter – Rosie was turning into a keeper of secrets herself.
She took the car key from her pocket and turned it over in her hands, keen to be away from Driftwood House when Matt emerged from his drunken slumber. She’d drive out into the Devon countryside and enjoy its verdant beauty before leaving the county for who knew how long in just a few days’ time.
Deciding she was going to drive into the countryside was one thing, but getting there any time soon was quite another. The tourist season was ramping up and roads through Heaven’s Cove were clogged with overheated families scowling at one another inside saloon cars.
Rosie was in a jam that stretched from the quay to the castle ruins and was going nowhere fast. She was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel in frustration when a frantic banging on the passenger window made her jump.
‘You OK?’ asked Nessa, pushing her face through the half-open window. ‘Where are you off to?’
Rosie tried to smile. ‘Nowhere. Just out for a drive.’
‘You don’t fancy giving me a lift to my gran’s, do you? Save me going by bus.’
‘Yeah, that’s fine. Get in.’
The first thing Nessa did after sliding into the passenger seat was fully open the window. A good job too, because she stank of turpentine.
‘Sorry. One of Sam Fuller’s boys managed to knock a bottle of turps off the shelf and it went everywhere. Don’t put a match near me or I’ll go up like a firework. On the plus side, Scaggy sent me home early to get changed, so swings and roundabouts.’
Rosie rolled her window down and grinned in spite of her low mood. Nessa was like a tonic. She’d miss her when she left Heaven’s Cove.
‘Ooh, it’s chilly in here now.’ Nessa shivered and started doing up her denim jacket. ‘You must be longing to get back to the sun. Talking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask if there’s any chance of me coming over for a long weekend when you’re back in Spain? I won’t be a nuisance.’
‘You’re never a nuisance, and that would be really nice, actually.’
‘Thanks.’ Nessa grinned and wriggled back into her seat, sending turpentine wafts Rosie’s way.
At last the queue began to move and Nessa fiddled with the radio as the car left the village behind. She gave up after being met with nothing but static, and folded her arms.
‘So what’s going on then, Rosie?’
‘What do you mean? I told you, I’m out for a drive.’
‘But why are you out for a drive on your own?’
‘Matt’s having a lie-down so I thought I’d come out for some air.’
‘That’s a good idea ’cos there’s not much air up there on top of the cliffs. Personally, I’d have opted for a lie-down next to Matt. So are you going to tell me what’s really going on?’
Rosie gave Nessa a sideways glance. ‘Absolutely nothing.’
‘Don’t tell me, then, but you look upset and I don’t think you could grip the steering wheel any harder.’
Rosie made a conscious effort to relax her shoulders.
‘Have you fallen out with your brooding boyfriend?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
Rosie groaned because it was obvious Nessa wasn’t going to let this drop. ‘I found some flirty texts between him and Carmen.’
‘And Carmen is…?’
‘A Spanish woman we work with.’
‘What’s she like, this Carmen? Aesthetically challenged, fifty-something, whiffs of garlic?’
‘Beautiful, twenty-something, smells delightful.’
‘Ah.’ Nessa started picking at her nails. ‘Do you think there’s something going on between them?’
‘Yes. He’s hardly been off the phone to her since he arrived.’
‘What a cheating swine when you’ve been through so much recently. I thought he had a look of Jake about him. How are you feeling about it?’
‘How do you think?’ Rosie gripped the steering wheel even harder. ‘I feel angry, upset and betrayed.’
‘I bet, though you’re keeping it together better than I did. When I found out Jake had been cheating I had a mega meltdown, which wasn’t pretty. You’re really calm, considering.’
‘On the outside maybe, but inside everything’s a huge muddle and I don’t know how I feel about anything or anyone.’
‘Does that include Liam?’
The car swerved as Rosie turned to stare at Nessa. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Bloody hell, watch where you’re going! What I mean is that I saw you and Liam slow-dancing last night.’
‘It was just a dance for old times’ sake,’ said Rosie, keeping her eyes straight ahead and trying to ignore the heat rising in her face.
‘Really? I don’t remember Liam dancing with you like that back in the sixth form. I don’t remember him dancing with the likes of you and me at all.’
‘We were
n’t his type.’
‘Which was surprising because most females were, back then. But he seems to like you well enough now.’
‘Liam Satterley is not interested in someone like me, Nessa. I doubt I could even ruffle his feathers.’
‘He honestly isn’t the same person he was at school, you know. That cow Deanna really screwed him over. Jake leaving me was gutting but at least he didn’t humiliate me by doing it in front of everyone.’
Rosie’s heart suddenly ached for Liam, waiting at the altar for a bride who never arrived.
‘What she did was awful but he seems to be OK now.’
‘Like you’re OK?’
Nessa had a point. Rosie was putting a brave face on everything but she still felt rubbish inside. When she didn’t reply, Nessa looked out of the window at the trees lining the road, their branches swishing in the breeze.
‘Though he seems to be getting back on the horse, if you’ll excuse the expression.’
‘What horse?’
‘Katrina, though never, ever tell her I called her that. The last time I saw Liam he was all over Katrina. I spotted her leaving the disco last night and was going to beg a lift home but by the time I caught up with her, she and Liam were snogging in the street and wandering off hand in hand so I left them to it.’
When the car swerved up the grass verge, Nessa gripped the sides of her seat.
‘Are you sure you saw Liam kissing Katrina in the street?’
‘Yep, full on, tongues and everything. Um, slow down. It’s thirty miles an hour on this road.’
Rosie eased her foot off the accelerator and tried to catch her breath. Liam was a free agent so why did this feel like yet another betrayal?
‘What about Katrina’s boyfriend?’ she asked, keeping her voice level.
‘He’s at some conference abroad, apparently.’
‘So she and Liam slept together behind his back? I thought you said Liam was different from how he was at school.’
‘He is, but she’s been throwing herself at him shamelessly. You must have noticed.’
‘Not really,’ lied Rosie, trying to focus on the road, her concentration shot to pieces. She’d thought Liam was different these days. She’d even imagined she might have feelings for him. But he was still the sort of man who cheated and deceived people.
