by Liz Eeles
‘She did tell you, Jay.’
Cecilia, still tear-stained but more in control, had slipped back into the room. She held out an envelope to her husband. ‘This arrived before we were married and I opened it. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. That seemed too hard-hearted, even for me.’ She gave Rosie a straight stare. ‘But I hid it from you.’
Charles’s hands were shaking as he pulled a single sheet of paper from the envelope and, after reading the words on it, he buried his head in his hands.
‘What? What does it say?’ Rosie snatched up the letter and read aloud.
‘Jay – I’m contacting you to make you aware that I’m pregnant with your child. I don’t expect anything from you. I certainly don’t expect you to disappoint your family and leave Cecilia. David still loves me and, even though he knows about the baby, he wants to marry me – he’s a decent man who will give me and my child the stability we need. You and I didn’t part on good terms but you deserve the chance to be a part of your child’s life. If you want to know your child, reply to this note. If not, David will become the child’s father and he or she will never hear about you from me. Sofia.’
Rosie ran her fingers across her mother’s handwriting. The rain had ceased and the wind had dropped. Everywhere was silent. Charles stood up slowly, as though it took every ounce of strength he possessed, and, without a word, walked from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Cecilia watched him go before taking the letter from Rosie and placing it back in its envelope.
‘My husband can no longer bear to be in the same room as me. And I imagine that you hate me, as much as he now does.’ She stared through the window at the grey, wet world outside. ‘You’ll have plenty to tell the inhabitants of Heaven’s Cove when you get back. Cecilia Epping was so terrified of losing the fiancé she loved, she did something quite dreadful.’
Rosie couldn’t speak. She was smothered in secrets that had wrapped their corrosive tendrils around people’s hearts and changed lives forever. What would have happened, thirty years ago, if Charles had seen that letter? Her heart ached for her mother, waiting for a message from the father of her child that never came.
Cecilia turned on the lamp on the writing desk, flooding the room with an amber glow.
‘Driftwood House has haunted me since Charles and I were married. Every day I thought of you growing up there, without a father.’
‘I had a father,’ murmured Rosie, suddenly feeling fiercely protective of the man who had helped to raise her.
‘Of course. I meant without your biological father.’ Cecilia paused. ‘I thought reducing the house to rubble would finally lay our ghosts to rest and discourage you from ever coming back to Heaven’s Cove. But instead it brought you to our door.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘How ironic.’
‘I don’t know how you’ve lived with such a huge secret for all of these years,’ said Rosie, shaking her head.
Cecilia laced her fingers together as though she was praying. ‘When we found out there would be no babies, I thought it was punishment, divine retribution, for keeping you from my husband. But I was too embroiled in the whole situation and he’d missed too much by then for me to show him the letter and confess what I’d done.’
Her sigh sounded more like a sob and, in spite of everything, Rosie felt a stab of sympathy for this woman who’d trapped herself in a web of lies.
‘Being unable to have your own child was coincidence, not punishment.’
‘Are you sure?’ Cecilia rubbed her eyes like a tired toddler. ‘Do you know, I was frightened of you when you first turned up at our door? I was scared you’d blow my secret sky high and turn my husband against me. I was his second choice. It’s stupid to think otherwise, but we’ve grown together over the years and I didn’t want that to end.’
‘I’m sure it won’t. He’ll understand when he’s had the time to take it all in. It’s not easy.’
‘Not for him and not for you.’ Cecilia closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. Then she looked at Rosie and gave a sad smile. ‘There’s a kindness in you that’s hidden deeper in Charles.’
‘I’m not always kind, and I think what you did was dreadful. But I don’t hate you, whatever you think, and I won’t be telling anyone in Heaven’s Cove.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘Because I don’t want my mother’s memory tainted with gossip, and nothing would be gained from telling people. It wouldn’t change what’s happened and, whatever you think, I’m not looking for money or vengeance. That’s not the sort of person I am.’
‘Then your mother brought you up well.’
‘She did, and my dad too.’
‘David sounds like a thoroughly decent man.’
Rosie swallowed. ‘He was, far more decent than I ever realised.’
Cecilia walked to the fireplace and stood beneath Evelyn’s portrait. ‘So what happens next? Will you go back to Spain?’
‘I’m not sure. My life has been there for the last few years but…’ Rosie shrugged.
‘Life doesn’t always work out the way you expect.’
Cecilia traced her hand across the Epping family crest carved into the stone fireplace, her fingers coming to rest on the rose at its centre. ‘Should you decide to remain in Heaven’s Cove, I’m sure you can continue living at Driftwood House now we plan to build our hotel on the outskirts of the village instead.’
Rosie’s heart sank. After all this, the Eppings still planned to take back Liam’s fields and ruin Meadowsweet Farm. ‘Will you still go ahead with that? I assumed your hotel idea was an excuse for you to knock down Driftwood House.’
Cecilia shook her head. ‘It was a way to kill two birds with one stone, but we do need to increase our income.’
‘Why? Look where you live.’ Rosie waved her arm at the old paintings and the antique furniture and what looked like a stable block in the distance. It all amounted to more than most people could ever hope to accumulate in a lifetime.
‘Old houses like this cost a fortune to run and our business investments have been disappointing recently.’
‘You could always downsize.’
Cecilia raised an eyebrow. ‘You may have seen a softer side to me this afternoon, but I don’t see me giving up the family seat and living anywhere less grand. Do you?’
An image of Cecilia living in a two-up, two-down cottage in the middle of Heaven’s Cove flitted into Rosie’s mind, and swiftly flitted out again. ‘So what happens to Meadowsweet Farm?’
‘You came here to plead for the man who runs it.’
‘That’s right.’
‘It must have been difficult for you to come back after the way I spoke to you the last time you were here. This man must mean a great deal to you.’
Rosie hesitated, picturing Liam’s eyes, his smile, the vulnerability behind his brash façade. ‘He does,’ she said, fully realising the truth of it.
Cecilia sniffed, and snapped back into business mode. ‘We can’t simply abandon the plan. We need to generate some kind of income. I’m afraid your friend will have to forfeit the land at Meadowsweet Farm.’
Rosie was finding it hard to think straight, but there had to be a solution. ‘What about…?’ She tried to marshal her thoughts into some sort of order. ‘What about if Driftwood House is turned into a guesthouse and I stay and run it for you and my…’ She couldn’t say it. Not yet. ‘… your husband.’
Cecelia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘Would you give up your life abroad for this farm?’
Rosie held her breath. Would she? Images of Spain cascaded through her mind – dusty landscapes, hot sunshine on her back, itinerant travelling friends who came and went, homesickness that she never allowed herself to acknowledge. If she went back, Liam’s farm would likely fold. If she stayed, at least Meadowsweet Farm would have a fighting chance.
She made up her mind. ‘I’d give it up for roots and permanence, and for Liam, yes.’
Cecilia st
ared at her. ‘So it’s not simply the land. It’s the man. Does he know how you feel?’
‘No, it’s not like that, we’re just friends.’
‘I see.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I suppose after what I did thirty years ago, some people might say that I owe you a favour. If you’re quite sure you want to stay and run Driftwood House as a guesthouse, you can tell your friend that his rental agreement on the land will be renewed.’
Thank you was on the tip of Rosie’s tongue, but she didn’t say it. Three decades of a lost relationship couldn’t be swept away by a grand gesture. It would take time. But she smiled and nodded at Cecilia, who nodded back.
‘Now, I must go and find my husband because we have a great deal to discuss.’ She blinked and swallowed hard. ‘You can stay if you wish and speak to him later.’
Rosie shook her head, suddenly desperate to escape the confines of High Tor House and clear her mind. ‘I need to get home, but please tell him I said goodbye.’
By the time Rosie had yomped back to her car, the sky was clearing and the sun was peeping from behind grey cloud. The road ahead was still slick with water but the torrent had slowed.
Rosie stood for a while, watching a lone Dartmoor pony standing on a rise of ground. The black and white piebald horse, with its distinctive fat belly and short legs, stopped munching grass and stared back at her, before returning to its meal.
She’d be able to visit Dartmoor for pleasure now she was staying at Driftwood House. Rosie slid into the driving seat and rested her head on the steering wheel. Since arriving back in Heaven’s Cove, her life had been a whirlwind of emotion and revelation, but today had topped everything that had gone before.
‘Charles Epping is definitely my father. He’s my dad.’
Nope, however much she said it out loud, it would take a while to sink in. And she wouldn’t be saying it out loud to anyone for a while, maybe not ever. It was a secret she was happy to keep, as long as Liam hadn’t already spilled the beans. At least Nessa, having professed her hatred of gossip, would stay quiet.
Rosie turned the key in the ignition and decided she would go to see Liam later and tell him that his land was safe, but nothing about the deal she’d made. Staying at Driftwood House was her decision and she didn’t want him feeling that he owed her anything. She was staying to help Liam; that was true. But an unexpected feeling of relief had washed over her from the moment she agreed to remain in Heaven’s Cove. She was also staying for herself.
CHAPTER 31
Green shoots were pushing their way through the rich soil. The land was producing another harvest, as it had done on Meadowsweet Farm for generations. But it would all soon come to an end. And, although it wasn’t Liam’s fault – the Eppings had the final say – he felt a failure.
He knew how he’d be remembered in Heaven’s Cove, long after he’d been forced to move on in search of work. Started off a right cocky Jack the Lad but turns out he couldn’t keep a fiancée and couldn’t keep a farm.
Telling his parents was going to be awful. They were still blissfully unaware of the changes ahead and he didn’t have the heart to unsettle them. But he couldn’t keep the news to himself forever.
Liam would usually turn to Billy for comfort, tickle behind his ears and soak up his uncomplicated adoration. But even his dog had given up on him today. Billy couldn’t be roused from his bed – he’d rather sleep the afternoon away than spend another minute with such a misery.
Get a grip, Liam told himself, looking out over the fields that would soon be lost. No one’s died and Mum, Dad and I can move on and do something else if need be. Quite what, he wasn’t sure. Katrina had marketing skills, Alex was a whizz on computers and Rosie could sell property on the Costa del Sol. His skills were limited to coaxing new life from the earth but maybe he could find work on another farm somewhere, or in a garden. He’d make a living somehow for himself and his parents. His material needs would be met, but when it came to his heart…
Liam rubbed a hand across his face, wondering where Rosie was now. Probably a thousand miles away, making up with that chancer Matt, who must love the fact that her new-found father happened to be one of the richest men in Devon.
He closed his eyes and remembered the Rosie he knew at school, serious and studious with long plaits and a watchful gaze. Then he pictured her now – gentle, sun-kissed, full of life, and sporting an expression he often couldn’t read. Did she want to kiss him or punch him?
Punch him, he guessed, after he’d accused her of sacrificing his farm for Driftwood House. She’d never have done that. He’d realised as much once his flash of temper had faded, because Rosie wasn’t devious – not like he used to be. His farm was simply collateral damage.
But he was still upset she hadn’t confided in him that Charles Epping might be her father. How could she keep that a secret after he’d tried to help her find her dad? She clearly didn’t trust him.
Liam sat down on the old wall that marked the eastern boundary of Meadowsweet Farm and drummed his heels against the stone. Tomorrow he would have to pick himself up and start all over again.
Someone was walking around the edge of the field towards him. Liam shielded his eyes from the glare of the late afternoon sun and hoped against hope it wasn’t his dad. He loved his father, and the anecdotes he told about the old days were interesting, the first time you heard them. Even the fifth or sixth time. But his dad repeated himself endlessly these days and Liam just wasn’t in the mood.
He squinted as the figure got closer. The person was slight, and wearing a dress which meant it wasn’t his dad unless he was even more confused than Liam thought.
Please don’t let it be Katrina, here to have a go at me for giving her the brush-off, thought Liam. He’d managed to avoid her for the last few days but it was only a matter of time before she caught up with him.
The woman was getting closer, and blood started pounding in his ears as he recognised Rosie, in a simple green sundress with her hair in a ponytail. He stood up, though he had no idea why, and sat straight back down again.
‘Hey, Liam. Are you busy?’ asked Rosie, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips.
‘Not really, no.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Honestly? I’m having a bit of a pity party.’
He could see her cheekbones when she smiled. ‘Can anyone join in?’
‘Feel free.’
He gestured at the wall next to him and tiny chips of stone cascaded onto the soil when she sat down.
‘Don’t you have Billy with you?’
‘He didn’t fancy coming because he’s fed up with me moping about.’
‘Are your mum and dad OK?’
‘They’re fine, thanks.’
‘We’re lucky with the weather. It’s much nicer here on the coast than inland.’
‘Yeah, that’s often the way.’ That was enough small talk. ‘I thought you’d left Heaven’s Cove for good and gone to Spain,’ he said, gazing straight ahead and being careful not to move in case his arm brushed against hers.
‘I thought about it but decided to go and see Charles Epping instead.’
‘Is he really your father?’
‘Yeah, I’m afraid so.’
‘How long have you known?’
‘Not long. When he and Cecilia inspected Driftwood House, she called him Jay. His middle name is James and people in the family call him Jay. It’s like a nickname, I suppose.’
‘Did you confront him about it?’
‘Not then, but I did later.’
‘And did he admit that he’s your father?’
‘He did, in the end.’
Liam took a breath. This sounded too much like an interrogation.
‘That must have been hard to hear. Why didn’t you say anything to your friends?’
‘Would you, if you found out that the most disliked man in Heaven’s Cove was your father?’
‘Probably not. But you could have told me.�
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Rosie bit her bottom lip, like a child trying to be brave. ‘I could have, and I almost did. But I didn’t want you to hate me.’
Liam shifted round and looked at Rosie for the first time since she’d sat beside him on the wall. The vulnerability written all over her face made his heart ache.
‘For goodness’ sake, Rosie, I could never hate you. Is that what you thought?’
She nodded. ‘You hate the Epping family and now I’m a part of it.’
‘But you’re not like them. You’re like your mum, who brought you up. Did you tell Matt about it?’
‘Yes,’ said Rosie, her voice flat. ‘But he was only interested in the Eppings’ money. That’s why he came over from Spain.’
Liam nodded, too angry to speak.
‘That’s why we’ve definitely split up for good,’ added Rosie, miserably. ‘That and him kissing Carmen.’
Liam’s anger suddenly shifted into irrational, inappropriate elation that he pushed down. ‘The man’s a moron.’
‘He is, a bit.’ She tried to giggle but it came out all strangled and strange, and Liam’s mood shifted again as a strong desire to throttle Matt overwhelmed him. He stood up once more, shook out his legs and sat back down.
‘It must have been so difficult, finding out that man’s your father.’
‘It’s been…’
When Rosie faltered, Liam put out his hand and covered hers. ‘I can see why your mum didn’t tell you.’
‘She thought I was better off without him. She wrote to him, to tell him that she was pregnant.’
‘So what happened?’
Rosie paused. ‘The letter never arrived.’
‘So he knew nothing about you? That’s tragic.’
‘Not really. I had a dad who I loved and who loved me in his own way, even though I wasn’t his, and Mum and I got to live at Driftwood House my whole life. It wasn’t so bad. But I want you to know that I honestly never mentioned your farm when I was talking to the Eppings about saving Driftwood House. I’d never do that. Not to you. Not to anyone.’
