Owen gave a quick shake of his head. ‘He wasn’t named on the birth certificate so unless I can find my mum, I don’t suppose I’ll ever know.’
Libby fell silent, trying to get her head around the idea of not knowing something so fundamental as who your parents were. It was alien to the point of near-impossibility. Clearly, Owen was hurting a great deal about it so she would need to tread carefully and curb her own curiosity.
They reached the hut and Owen unlocked it and ushered her in. ‘Hold on.’ Using the light from his phone screen, he found his way across to the bed to switch on the fairy lights Libby had bought one day on a whim to wind through the bars of the old iron bedstead.
Pushing the door closed, she leaned back against it. ‘If you don’t want to talk about your mum, you don’t have to.’ He didn’t respond beyond a quick nod.
Having tossed his trainers in the corner, Owen hitched himself up onto the bed and patted the space beside him. ‘Come here, I need to hold you.’
Libby dropped her boots by the door and scrambled up to curl into his side. ‘I missed you this week.’ It was still an effort to admit those kinds of things to him, but it felt like they’d taken a step forward in their relationship over the past hour. Her suggestion to keep things between just the two of them had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but each weekend that past made her regret it more. Not telling Beth and Eliza had begun to weigh on her, too—an omission was still a lie at the end of the day.
At first, she hadn’t expected it to last beyond a handful of encounters so keeping it quiet had been an act of self-preservation. Only Owen had kept texting to check on her schedule, and sending details of his, and one weekend had rolled into the next. When they couldn’t avoid spending time with the others without rousing suspicion, Libby felt so awkward she could hardly bring herself to meet his eyes, never mind speak to him. She kept waiting for him to say something about it, but he never did and now it felt like she was trapped in some Groundhog Day loop. She loved the precious hours they spent together like this, but she wanted more. Just tell him you’re ready to go public.
As she opened her mouth, Owen shifted to cover her body with his. ‘I missed you, too. Now come here.’ His lips found hers and their bodies moved together in a pattern that had become as natural to her as breathing. Tomorrow, she’d tell him tomorrow…
Chapter 13
The summer flew past. With Alex finding her feet back in London, Owen split his weeks between there and the bay. His days were spent working on the restaurant, and his nights waiting for Libby to finish work and join him in the hut. In the few hours in between the two, he’d continued to try and find any trace of his family. The town librarian had been helpful in pointing out a few books which dealt with local history, but she’d only been in town for about ten years and didn’t recognise the name Blackmore. It had been the same at the local paper—a search through their database hadn’t yielded any results, but they didn’t go back more than twenty years. He wasn’t quite desperate enough to spend hours trawling through their older records which had been transferred to microfiche, but not yet digitised. The war memorial told a terrible story of whole generations of sons wiped out—but again, no Blackmores. Thoroughly depressed, he was running out of ideas and the sweet oblivion he found in Libby’s arms was all that kept his spirits up.
They took it in turn bringing supper for each other. His particular favourite had been the previous weekend when they’d sat side by side in the doorway of the hut eating chips and sharing a can of cream soda. Afterwards they’d lain on the bed fully clothed and kissed and cuddled like a couple of teenagers as they talked nonsense about their day. They’d dozed off at some point, waking in the early hours to sneak back into their respective beds.
At first, her request for secrecy hadn’t bothered him as he didn’t want the others interfering in their business any more than she did. As the weeks passed though, and she insisted on maintaining an icy façade whenever they were together in company, it began to grate on his nerves. He liked Libby. Liked her more than anyone he’d known in a very long time and he wanted to move their relationship onto a firmer footing than a few stolen hours here and there. But how to do that without spooking her or indeed her father was a puzzle he hadn’t quite found a solution for.
Gentle questioning had revealed she still hadn’t spoken to Mick about her plans to take over the chip shop and convert it, and it was obvious her dad was equally reticent about discussing his future retirement plans. Having already signed a contract and made a down payment to Mick, Owen felt torn between the competing needs of the two of them—and his own deep-seated need to buy and hold a piece of the bay for himself.
Several opportunities had come and gone where he could’ve quizzed Paul Barnes to see if he had any recollection of a Deborah Mary Blackmore, but when it had come down to it, Owen had chickened out. Asking around in the community was his final avenue of exploration, and who would know better than the landlord whose family had run the pub for generations? By not asking, Owen didn’t have to admit he’d come to a dead end in his search.
Besides, the status quo was fine just as it was, or so he kept telling himself. He’d made some good friends, was starting to find his feet within the community, and for the first time in a long time he was happy. There was no need to rock the boat, to dig around the past and risk stirring up the unpleasant truth his instincts told him lay at the heart of the mystery surrounding his birth mother. Better not to know than taint his growing appreciation for the bay, and its residents.
It was also easier to pretend there was a tragic tale to be revealed than the possibility he’d find a woman with a happy family who’d been content to forget the mistakes of the past. It nagged at him, though. In the quiet hours when he didn’t have Libby’s sweet warmth curled into him providing a distraction, the gaps in his past gnawed away at the edges of his new-found contentment.
How could he make a future for himself when he didn’t know who the hell he really was? He felt like a chameleon, changing his outer self to blend in depending on his environment. Or an actor playing different roles. During the week, he was the hard-nosed businessman ready to strike a deal for the right money. Over the long weekends in the bay, he was the carefree entrepreneur willing to throw himself into helping a friend realise his dream. And during those long sultry nights, he was Libby’s secret lover. He was all those things, and none of them. He was a bloody mess.
‘Earth to Owen, come in Owen.’ Sam’s jokey comment stirred him back to the present and he glanced over his shoulder with a frown.
‘What’s up?’
With a shake of his head, Sam pointed to the wall behind Owen. ‘I should be asking you that seeing as how you’ve been painting the same spot for the past five minutes. Is everything all right?’
Bending to dip his brush, Owen turned his attention back to the wall. ‘Yeah, fine mate. Just got a lot on my mind.’
‘Fair enough.’ He thought Sam was willing to leave it at that, and they worked in silence for a few minutes until Sam coughed. ‘Look, I won’t pry, but if there’s anything you want to talk about, you know I’m here for you, right? I know this started out as a business venture, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore. Well, not to me, at least.’
‘Me neither.’ God, how had he ended up in this situation? All those years of self-reliance had been terrible preparation when it came to having real friends for the first time in his life. He’d had business acquaintances, employees such as Alex who he got on well with, and willing women to warm his bed a plenty. What he’d no experience of was being around people who didn’t want or need anything from him other than the apparent pleasure they found in his company. Not sure what else to say, Owen carried on painting until he reached the corner—and the end of the paint tin.
As he sealed the empty can and carried it carefully to the area they’d set up for waste storage, he thought about the two men who’d recently become an integral part of his life in the
bay. Sam was an open book, as friendly and eager as Jack’s lunatic chocolate Labrador who’d taken a shine to Owen for no reason he could fathom out. He was no more an animal person than he was a people person, but that didn’t deter Bastian from making a beeline for him whenever he was in the vicinity. Jack was quieter, with a more reserved character, but Owen had no doubts about the sincerity of his intentions. And as for his little lad…Noah fairly ripped his heart out every time he gifted Owen with one of his sweet little smiles. There was so much trust in the boy, so much generosity in his heart even after what must have been the devastating loss of his father earlier in the year. Owen found himself torn between wanting to shield the boy and a desperate need to warn him that life would cut him down if he didn’t toughen up.
He was just returning with a fresh can when a commotion from the pub above them had he and Sam exchanging a worried look before they both made a run for the stairs. ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ Sam pushed his way through the group of customers milling around a red-faced man.
‘Trouble on the beach, some kid stuck out on the rocks. Your Eliza’s out there with him.’
Without waiting to hear more, Sam was out the door and sprinting down the promenade, Owen hard on his heels. A jostling crowd blocked their path, mobile phones all pointed at the drama unfolding on the beach below. After a few moments trying to weave their way through, they abandoned any attempt at politeness and began shouldering through the crowd.
‘Oi, watch it!’ A disgruntled man made a grab for Sam, his face red with anger.
Owen stopped him with a hard hand on his shoulder. ‘Back off, mate, that’s his sister down there.’
Holding up his hands, the man backed off and those around them must have heard Owen’s comment as they melted away giving them a chance to slip through to a clear spot at the edge of the railings. ‘Jesus Christ.’ There were three figures out towards the end of the rocks. Eliza was easily identifiable from her sandy curls streaming in the breeze. She had a small, dark-haired boy held in her lap and a man with matching brown hair crouched beside them. ‘What the hell are Jack and Noah doing here?’ Owen didn’t know the ins and outs of the situation, but things between Jack and Eliza had recently hit a rough patch and he’d heard Eliza crying herself to sleep on more than one occasion.
Sam was already lowering himself over the edge of the prom and down onto the rocks and Owen followed him down. ‘Steady.’ Sam grabbed his arm as the sole of his boot skidded on a smooth bit of stone.
‘Thanks.’ Checking his balance, Owen tried to rein in the adrenaline pumping through his system and plot a sensible route over the rocks. ‘Look.’ He pointed. ‘If we work our way over to the left, there’s that flatter section which looks a bit easier.’ He hoped it sounded more confident than he felt because all he could see were jagged edges and small gaps just waiting to twist an ankle, or worse.
‘All right.’ Sam cupped his hands around his mouth. ‘Hang on, we’re coming,’ he called out.
They’d barely made it five metres when Jack started shouting to them. ‘It’s bloody treacherous down here. Stay where you are!’
Owen stopped short and made a grab for Sam who seemed intent on carrying on. ‘Wait up, mate, you heard what Jack said.’
‘We can’t just leave them out there!’ Sam made to shrug him off, but Owen held firm.
The wail of sirens sounded in the distance. ‘Listen. The emergency services are on their way. If we go tearing out there, we risk being two more people they have to rescue.’
‘I can’t just do nothing.’ Sam continued to protest as Owen steered him back the way they’d come.
‘Why don’t you go up and meet the ambulance, and I’ll see if I can clear some of this lot out the way, then?’
With the assistance of a couple of men in the crowd, they hauled themselves back up onto the promenade and Sam loped off towards the main road. Owen turned to one of the guys who’d helped him up. ‘Give us a hand with this lot, will you?’
Together they began pushing the gathered people back. A few grumbled, but a couple of others joined in and with outstretched arms they managed to make enough room for the vehicles to approach. A police car arrived first. A male and female officer emerged, tugged on matching fluorescent vests and took over the crowd control. Sam jogged up, a pair of paramedics on his heels.
To his relief, the trio on the rocks were slowly making their way back to the promenade so Owen concentrated on keeping the section of the crowd nearest to him out of the way as the paramedics set up and Sam gave them Eliza and Jack’s details.
The next few minutes were a mad flurry of activity as first Jack and Noah were helped up and into an ambulance, and then Eliza. Beth, Libby and Mrs Barnes arrived, only adding to the noise and chaos as they fussed over Eliza. Their arrival brought renewed interest from the crowd who started pushing and shoving to get a better view of what was going on. Owen caught an elbow to the face as some idiot reached past him with a selfie-stick trying to film the action. Furious, Owen gave him a shove. ‘Piss off! What’s the matter with you?’
He’d had enough. And he wasn’t the only one as a white-faced Libby rounded on the crowd. ‘It’s not a bloody soap opera, those are my friends, my family…’
The words choked off on a sob, and everything fell away in Owen’s visceral need to get to her. Shoving through, he caught her in his arms. ‘I’ve got you.’ She struggled against him for a few seconds before clinging to him like a barnacle. Every sob wrenched her body against his, cutting him to the quick. At a loss for what else to do, Owen buried his lips into her hair. ‘They’re all right, everyone’s all right,’ he said over and over, praying it was true. Eliza seemed fine apart from a nasty cut on her leg, and from the bit he’d glimpsed of Jack and Noah they’d both been lucid, though the little boy’s face had been pinched with pain when Jack carried him past.
Something cold nudged his hand, and he glanced down to find a mournful-looking Bastian sitting at his feet, his lead dragging on the floor. Keeping one arm around Libby, he bent to gather the lead. Calmer now, Libby wriggled out from under his arm and moved away as Beth and Sam approached.
He tried to catch her eye, but she resolutely turned away. Jesus, were they still going to maintain this ridiculous façade? They were both free agents, so why was she so desperate to pretend there was nothing between them? He’d had just about enough and was ready to tell her so, when a modicum of common sense stopped him. Now was not the time or the place, but once he got her alone there’d be a reckoning. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Sam. ‘Everyone okay?’
Sam shrugged. ‘Eliza’s going to need a couple of stiches and they think Noah’s broken his arm.’
‘What the hell were they all doing out there? I thought Jack was up to his eyes in the harvest.’ No one had any answers.
Eliza limped over. ‘Can you drive me to the hospital?’ she asked her brother.
He nodded. ‘Of course.’
Owen watched as the paramedics closed the door on the ambulance and prepared to leave. As they were closing, he caught a glimpse of his friend’s bleak expression. ‘Jesus Christ, did you see the terror on Jack’s face? That’s one of the many reasons I’m never having kids.’ Silently cursing himself for that slip of the tongue, Owen clamped his mouth shut. His own bitter experience had been enough to put him off having a family for life, but he didn’t need to be blabbing about that just then. He couldn’t imagine being in Jack’s shoes, suddenly thrust into a position of sole responsibility for a child because fate had dealt yet another cruel hand.
A shudder ran through him about how much worse it could’ve been, and he turned back to Eliza before his thoughts could take a morbid turn. Noah would be fine and there were more practical considerations to be tackled. ‘What can I do? If you’re going to be stuck up at the hospital, do you want me to help out behind the bar? I’ve never pulled a pint, but I can tidy up, keep the fridges stocked or whatever.’ He tried once more to catch Libby’s eye, but she
seemed fascinated with the multi-coloured laces in her boots. Bloody stubborn woman.
Eliza gifted him with a sweet smile before wincing once more over the pain in her leg. ‘No, it’s fine. Josh is working tonight so him and Mum can handle everything. Someone needs to retrieve Jack’s Land Rover from the car park and take it back to the farm, though. It’s their biggest harvest day so his mum is probably swamped.’
Grateful for something to do that would not only help out, but also put a bit of space between himself and Libby before he did something stupid like grab her in front of everyone, Owen held out his hand. ‘Consider it done. I’ll stay up there as long as she needs me.’ He tugged Bastian’s lead which was still wrapped around his wrist. ‘Let’s get you home, eh, mate?’
Eliza handed him the keys. ‘Thank you. Sam and I should be able to swing by and collect you on the way home from the hospital.’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t sweat it, I’ll doss on the sofa if needed. Do you know Jack’s reg number?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s black, though, and probably covered in mud.’
‘Like every other bloody Land Rover. I’ll just point and press until one of them unlocks.’ Sam and Beth gave him a quick smile, but Libby still refused to look at him. Inwardly seething, he strode off.
He was maybe twenty feet away when Libby shouted after him. ‘Hold up, I’ll come with you.’
Still annoyed with her for snubbing him in front of the others, Owen kept on cutting his way through the busy promenade towards the car park, so it was a red-faced and slightly out of breath Libby who caught up with him as he paused to peruse the jumble of cars. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I said I’d come with you.’
Gripping the keys hard enough to hurt his fingers, Owen scowled. ‘I didn’t want to risk us being seen together in public. What would your friends think?’
It was Libby’s turn to frown. ‘They’re your friends too, and I’m not sure what you’re making a big fuss about.’
Snowflakes at Lavender Bay Page 12
