‘Simon and Bruce setting the barbecue up for later? Who’s in charge of the actual cooking this year?’
‘Who d’you think?’ Hazel laughed. ‘Simon’s bought himself a new set of posh tools and a King of the Barbeque apron. No way is he planning to stand aside.’
Karen piled all the meat for cooking – chicken drumsticks, steaks, beef burgers and sausages – onto dishes ready to be carried out to Simon and Toby. A table had been set up to one side of the barbecue for people to help themselves to the rest of the food. Green salad, macaroni salad, rolls, crisps, sweet-potato wedges, pumpkin pie.
Looking at the array of food, Karen said, ‘D’you think we might have gone over the top this year? There’s only Tia to represent the hordes of hungry teenagers we usually feed.’
Before Hazel could answer, Karen’s mobile rang. Glancing at the caller name her heart lifted. ‘Wills. Where are you?’
‘At the airport on the way home. Looking forward to seeing you and Devon.’
‘Wonderful. When exactly do you want me to collect you from Totnes?’
‘No worries. Dad’s offered to bring me down towards the end of next week.’
Karen pushed the guilty ‘But I don’t want him to’ thought away, saying instead, ‘Great. See you both then.’
What had happened to Derek’s ‘Not sure there’s any point in coming down’ excuse? Was he up to something? Fingers crossed it would just be an overnight visit and he’d then disappear back to town, leaving her to enjoy Wills’ company.
Karen smiled happily at Hazel. ‘Wills is on his way home. He’ll be here next week.’ She picked up the first couple of meat dishes. ‘Right, let’s get the chefs cooking.’
The first communal barbecue of the summer was always a noisy one. This year was no exception.
As the first steaks and burgers came off the grill, Bruce checked everyone had a drink before raising his glass of wine. ‘Nice to see everyone here again and hopefully we’re in for a good summer.’ He paused before adding quietly, ‘Here’s to absent friends.’ Silently, glasses were raised in acknowledgement.
Looking at Bruce, Karen realised how tense he was and knew how difficult this first communal get-together was for him. Gabby had always been such a powerhouse at these events. Organising everything and everyone. This first summer without her was sure to be full of reminders of the gentle woman who had been his life for so long.
‘You okay?’ Karen said, moving to stand by him.
Bruce nodded. ‘Yes. As Gabby would say, the show must go on.’ He glanced at her. ‘I need to talk to you. About something I promised Gabby I’d do. Can I buy you lunch one day next week? Wednesday? Friday?’
‘Wednesday’s good for me. Wills and Derek are probably arriving on Friday,’ Karen said.
‘Glad to hear that,’ Bruce said. He glanced along the terrace. ‘I was in the estate agent’s this afternoon. They’ve got No. 4 on their books, so we can expect a few nosey parkers looking around this summer. Mind you, at the price they’re asking, it’ll be well-heeled nosey parkers.’ He shook his head.
‘Oh, that’s a shame. You’d have thought one of the relatives would have wanted to keep it,’ Karen said. ‘What were you doing in the estate agent’s anyway? Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of selling up?’
‘Not The Bosun’s Locker, no.’ Bruce shook his head. ‘But I’ve got to find something to do. Some purpose to my life,’ he added quietly. ‘I’ll tell you more on Wednesday.’
By mid evening, Simon and Toby, fuelled by several cans of beer, were doing a duet of ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’, much to the disbelief of Tia, Hazel and Simon’s teenage daughter, who was watching them with a look of horror on her face.
‘Yankee doodle went to town, a-riding on a pony, stuck a feather in his cap, and called it macaroni.’
Hazel tried not to laugh as she poured Joy and Karen another glass of wine. ‘It only needs for us to start dancing and her embarrassment would be complete,’ she said. ‘If I had the energy it would be worth it.’
An hour later, as Bruce supervised the fireworks that always heralded the end of the evening, Hazel whispered to Karen, ‘You up for a chat and a skinny-dip tonight after this lot finishes?’
Karen nodded. ‘Good idea.’
*
‘Joy – lives in No. 5. She and her husband, Toby, act as unofficial caretakers for everybody. She’ll have bought food and stocked the fridge, made the bed up, etcetera, and will look after you. Do your shopping, a spot of cleaning if you want,’ Charlie said, looking at his old friend Guy Widdicombe.
‘Thanks, mate,’ Guy said, taking the key Charlie was holding out.
‘Stay as long as you want. I’ll be down at the end of the month.’
‘I really appreciate this,’ Guy said.
Charlie shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s what mates do. You can buy me a decent dinner when I get there. Now, d’you want a lift to the station?’
‘Booked a taxi. Should be here any minute. Thanks. I’ll go and wait downstairs. See you in a few weeks.’
Sitting lost in his own thoughts as the train thundered through the countryside, Guy tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing.
He knew going back was supposed to be a no-no. But he was only returning to where he’d once spent an idyllic holiday. It wasn’t as though it was his hometown and he was attempting to begin a new life there. He was just going to chill out for a few weeks while he got his life back on track. Forget the horrors he’d seen. Then he could move on.
He’d accepted Charlie’s offer of the use of his holiday cottage for the summer before he’d realised where it was, by which time it was too late to turn the offer down. He needed somewhere to live and he hated the thought of being holed up in London for the summer months.
But the memories had started to come back once he’d realised, and now, as the train negotiated the vulnerable track beside the sea near Dawlish, images of that holiday were picture-sharp in his head. At nineteen, he’d moaned about its location. Isolated and boring he’d called it then. Nothing to do. But then he’d met Chris and things had changed.
Instead of mooching about bored, his days had been filled with sailing, rock climbing, swimming in the small cove, illicit beer drinking and playing table tennis on a rickety old table under the big oak tree at the edge of the garden. In the end it had been a good holiday – one he looked back on now with affection and nostalgia for lost opportunities.
Today, thirty-odd years later, all he wanted was the isolated and boring part. No friends or holidaymakers intent on jollying everyone into joining in things. Charlie had said to expect the cottages to be occupied by the various owners, but they all wanted peace and quiet too. He wouldn’t have to socialise if he didn’t want to. And he definitely didn’t want to. He planned on lots of sleep, long walks and lots of reading. And drowning recent memories in copious amounts of whisky and wine.
The taxi he’d organised was waiting for him when he got off the train at Totnes. Half an hour later he was standing in the car park behind the cottages, looking at the stars and stripes flag fluttering in the evening breeze over the end cottage. Someone was singing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ loudly, off-key, and there was a lot of laughter and conversation.
So much for Charlie’s promise of peace and quiet. Still, at least no one was around to notice his arrival and he pushed open the big heavy wooden door in the stone wall that surrounded the communal grounds and made his way along the path to Charlie’s cottage.
Inside, No. 3 was bright, modern and minimalistic. No feminine touches for Charlie. And nothing like whichever cottage in the row he’d stayed in all those years ago, with its chintz and old-fashioned furniture.
A sturdy cream loop carpet had been laid throughout No. 3, except for the kitchen with its traditional slate floor. Table and chairs were placed by the French doors leading to the terrace, two black-leather settees faced each other in front of the fireplace, a glass coffee table between them. Bookshel
ves and abstract paintings covered the whitewashed walls.
Upstairs in the front bedroom Guy slung his holdall onto the trunk at the foot of the king-sized bed and took out the bottle of whisky. He’d unpack later. Right now he needed a drink and something to eat. The tantalising smell of barbecue food was fanning his hunger.
As promised there was a box of food on the kitchen work surface and eggs, milk, cheese, butter and wine in the fridge. He poured himself a generous measure of whisky before making himself a cheese sandwich. Not wanting to alert anyone to his presence, he didn’t bother to switch on any lights, preferring to manage in the half-light.
Taking his sandwich and whisky upstairs, he ate and drained his glass before taking off his boots and stretching out on the bed. He lay listening to the sounds of laughter, wondering if it was going to be like this every evening. Half in, half out of sleep he speculated about who these people might be.
The bang of the first firework jolted him out of his semi-conscious state, setting his heart racing in fear and his hands clutching at the duvet in fistfuls as he wrapped himself in it protectively before realising what was happening. Bloody things.
As firework displays went it was a short one – barely ten minutes. The acrid smell in the air lasted longer.
Guy lay there listening for a while as people said their goodnights and the party broke up. Finally, all he could hear was the waves breaking against the rocks at the bottom of the cliffs. Good. Maybe he could get some proper sleep now. Another whisky would help and he swung himself off the bed.
A bright moon was illuminating the grounds and the sea in front of the cottages. Standing briefly in front of the window, looking out, Guy could see two people swimming in the pool. As he watched, one of them climbed out and stood on the pool ladder holding the rail for a couple of seconds. Perfectly silhouetted in the moonlight. He smiled – they’d been skinny-dipping. Was it a summer ritual? The woman, whoever she was, had a great figure.
A memory of a skinny-dip down in the cove on that long-ago holiday flashed into his mind. Three or four teenage girls, splashing and giggling. He and Chris hidden in the bushes, enjoying the scene, afraid to move for fear of discovery. Not brave enough to join the girls.
Guiltily he pulled the curtains closed before turning away. Before leaving the room to go downstairs in search of his whisky, he switched the light on to warn them someone was awake. Didn’t want the neighbours for the next few weeks labelling him a Peeping Tom before he’d even met them.
*
‘Oh, I can’t tell you how good this feels,’ Karen murmured as she and Hazel floated lazily on their backs in the pool. ‘Good idea of yours.’
‘Bliss,’ Hazel said. ‘We should make a pact to do this at least once a week when everyone is in bed.’
‘Not sure about when Charlie and his mates are down in August,’ Karen said. ‘They’d probably get the binoculars trained on us. Otherwise, great idea.’
‘Not compulsory to skinny-dip. We could just come and swim at midnight – it’s so different down here then. Proper alone time.’
Karen turned over and began to do a leisurely breast stroke across the width of the pool. ‘You wait,’ she said. ‘Empty-nest-syndrome time is approaching. You’ll have plenty of alone time then. Probably more than you want.’ She reached the side of the pool and took a deep breath. ‘God, I hadn’t realised I was so unfit. Definitely need to swim every day.’
‘Having an empty nest sounds so appealing at the moment,’ Hazel said.
‘Tia being a teenage pain?’
Hazel spluttered. ‘She’s like seventeen going on twenty-seven these days – when she’s not throwing a tantrum like a seven-year-old.’
‘I remember Francesca behaving like that. Surely the twins too?’
‘Yes, but I swear Tia is worse than the two of them put together. Honestly, I can’t wait for her to go to uni.’
‘Wills arriving might help. Having someone near her own age around.’
Hazel nodded. ‘Hope so. Race you for a length?’
Karen shook her head. ‘Not fit enough to race but I’ll do a length behind you.’
Doing a fast front crawl, Hazel reached the far end first and trod water waiting for Karen. As Karen reached her they both heard an owl tooting from one of the tall pine trees that bordered the grounds, but otherwise the night was silent apart from the sound of the sea below them.
Karen grabbed hold of the steps’ rail to climb out of the pool, pausing for a moment on the second one to look up at the moonlight-illuminated terrace of houses. Beautiful.
‘I love this place. I don’t know how Derek can even think of asking me to sell it,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It’s been a part of my life for so long.’
‘How is Derek?’ Hazel asked.
Karen shrugged. ‘Nothing changes,’ she said before swearing under her breath and climbing out of the pool, reaching for one of the towels they’d left on a chair and wrapping it around her body.
‘What’s the matter?’ Hazel said, joining her by the chair.
‘Quick, you’d better have this,’ Karen said, handing her the other towel. ‘There’s a light on in No. 3. I hope to hell whoever it is hasn’t been watching us for the last twenty minutes.’
*
‘Which way?’ Bruce said, stopping at the T-junction. ‘Restaurant in town or a walk on the beach and a pub lunch?’
‘Oh, a walk and then a pub lunch,’ Karen said without hesitation. ‘Another week and it’ll be impossible to get a table for the hordes of holidaymakers.’
‘Slapton Ley, here we come then,’ Bruce said, taking the left turn onto the narrow coast road.
Lots of traffic meant Bruce needed to concentrate on his driving rather than talking, and Karen was happy to stay quiet and look at the passing countryside.
Empty fields shorn of their crops were sporting a yellow stubble. In others, tractors were racing against time to gather the last of the hay before the threatened rain arrived. Holidaymakers, with their exuberant holiday shirts and shorts, wandered aimlessly along the coastal road, happy to be enjoying their freedom from workday routines.
It wasn’t until they’d parked the car and were striding out along Slapton Sands that Karen said, ‘Charlie’s friend in No. 3 is keeping a low profile. Haven’t had sight nor sound of him. Have you?’ She didn’t mention the light the night she and Hazel had been skinny-dipping.
Bruce shook his head. ‘No. I did wonder if he’d venture out to join us one evening – he must have heard us. Maybe I’ll knock on the door later, invite him for tonight’s sundowner. Let him know the natives are friendly. Although if he just wants to be left alone...’ Bruce shrugged.
‘He’ll have to show himself sometime,’ Karen said. ‘So, what is it you wanted to talk about?’
‘Gabby’s ashes,’ Bruce said. ‘Ages ago, long before either of us ever thought it would happen, we both promised to scatter the other’s ashes in a favourite place.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I still can’t believe I’m having to think about doing it.’
‘You want me to be with you when you do it?’ Karen asked gently. ‘Of course I will. Where did Gabby want to be scattered? By the coastguard cottages?’
Bruce shook his head. ‘That’s my choice, but she said she wanted them scattered in the sea by the American memorial along here. Said she’d feel close to both me and her American roots that way.’
Karen glanced at him. ‘I’d almost forgotten Gabby was American. Her accent was more Home Counties than New York City.’
Bruce laughed. ‘She worked really hard at it. She so wanted to fit in and not stand out. Yet she never really forgot her roots, despite never going back after her studies here finished.’
‘Did you bring her ashes today?’ Karen asked gently.
Bruce shook his head. ‘No. I was thinking I’d do it on her birthday and then in the evening invite everyone to have a drink and celebrate her life.’
‘That’s what we’ll do then,�
� Karen said, threading her arm through Bruce’s. ‘I’ll do the food for you.’
Bruce squeezed her arm gratefully. ‘Talking of food, shall we turn round and get to the pub? I’m starving.’
By the time they got back to the pub the lunchtime rush was starting. Karen managed to grab a couple of seats at a window table while Bruce went to the bar to order and get their drinks. Half a lager for him and a glass of wine for her.
The pub had been one of her parents’ favourite lunchtime haunts and she remembered them dragging both her and her brother for lunchtime fish and chips whenever they were in Devon. They’d never complained about coming, even if as teenagers they’d found their parents’ company boring. The fish and chips were always worth it.
It was ages, though, since she’d eaten here. When Derek was down he always insisted on going to the fish restaurant in Dartmouth, and on her own she could rarely be bothered to drive out this way.
Derek. A few more days and he’d be here. Still no news on how long he was planning to stay. This last week being away from him had made her realise just how hyper-sensitive and tense she was whenever he was around. A fleeting visit would suit her better. Then she could relax and enjoy Wills’ company – and Francesca’s when she arrived.
‘You’re looking very serious,’ Bruce said, placing her glass of wine in front of her. ‘Did someone upset you?’
‘No,’ Karen said. ‘I was just thinking about…’ She hesitated, searching for something to say. She couldn’t tell Bruce yet what she’d really been thinking. ‘Food for when Wills gets here. Planning a welcome home dinner is a serious business. Cheers.’ Karen picked up her drink and took a sip. ‘You promised to tell me more about your plans today?’
‘I’m thinking of moving to The Bosun’s Locker permanently,’ Bruce said. ‘Selling my flat and doing something Gabby and I swore we’d never do – renovate something down here. I’ve seen a townhouse I rather fancy as a project. We liked keeping the business and our private lives separate, but now…’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t want to stay in town, or in the apartment with its memories, and I love it down here, so why not?’ He looked at Karen anxiously, seeking her reassurance.
Summer at Coastguard Cottages Page 3
