by Kate Ryder
‘Hi, Mum. How’s it going?’
‘Cara, darling, your father is driving me to distraction!’
Cara laughs. ‘What’s he done now?’
‘He’s only agreed to an exhibition of wildlife photography the very week I want to go to Madrid. He says I don’t communicate with him so how is he supposed to know what plans I’ve made!’
‘Have you already booked flights?’ Cara asks.
‘Well, no…’ Carol’s voice falters and then rises defensively ‘…but that’s not the point! I wanted to go that particular week because of the fiesta. I’ve been talking about it for months, if not years! He’s so damn maddening, your father.’
‘But adorable, Mum,’ Cara says, smiling at her mother’s histrionics. Everyone knows Ken is the calming influence in that relationship.
‘Oh yes, of course! He wouldn’t be your father if he wasn’t. Anyway, enough of me. How’s everything with you, darling?’
Cara wonders what her mother would say if she told her the truth. Forcing a smile into her voice, she says, ‘I’ve been asked out on Sunday night. Are you free to do a spot of babysitting?’
She knows her mother would like to see her settled with someone and senses, rather than hears, the sharp intake of breath.
‘Of course. You know I love spending time with my grandchildren. What time do you want me over?’
As Cara gazes along the empty expanse of sand, she notices a vehicle pull up in the café’s car park at the far end. A man gets out, swiftly followed by a springer spaniel.
Must be mad to be out in this!
She watches the man zip up his jacket and pause to look out to sea before walking down the steps onto the sand, his body bent into the wind. The dog is already on the beach, racing up to the water’s edge and barking at the waves.
‘Six should be fine. I’ll do supper for the kids so you won’t have to bother.’
‘Don’t worry about that, Cara. I’ll rustle up Grandma’s special. I’ll even drag Grandpa out too and we can all spend some quality time together.’
‘Thanks.’ Knowing her mother is itching to discover who she’s going out with, Cara holds her breath waiting for the inevitable question and is surprised when it doesn’t come. ‘Where’s Dad’s exhibition?’ she asks.
‘Eden. He’s giving daily lectures as well so it’s not as if he can just hang the pieces and leave!’
‘But that’s brilliant! There’ll be other fiestas, Mum.’
Carol laughs. ‘Hey, who is the mother here?’
‘Me too, don’t forget! But I don’t like to think you feel you’re missing out.’
‘Never! But I would have liked to go to that fiesta,’ Carol says with some regret. ‘Anyway, Cara, I’m so pleased you’re giving yourself a night off.’
‘Bye, Mum, and thanks again.’
A sudden rain squall thrashes against the window panes, rattling the wooden frames. As the wind picks up, swirling under the eaves of the studio, an eerie sound like wailing women fills the air. Cara shivers. It’s cold, even with the heating on. Glancing up, she notices a stain spreading across the ceiling.
‘Great! A leaking roof. That’s all I need.’
Looking out at the turbulent sea, she sees white horses riding the crest of the waves. She never tires of this view, at any time of year. Every season has its merits. Even in January, when everything appears colourless and drab, the sweep of the bay is magical to her. She smiles at the memory of the first time she saw The Lookout. He was so unsure and worried she wouldn’t like it. But she loved everything about it – from its quirky, unusual layout and dilapidated air, as if yearning for someone to care again, to the wildness of the surrounding cliff garden. Where others only saw its dangers, perilously perched above the beach, she saw the cliffs rising steeply behind as mighty protectors providing shelter from the bitter north-easterlies.
Cara’s eyes follow the man who, undeterred by the weather, walks his dog along the beach. Behind him, the dark grey twist of road glistens in the rain, like a snake slithering through the countryside, making its way silently towards the sand before depositing visitors at the small car park serving the café. Her gaze follows the dirt track skirting the cove that gives access to the handful of properties hugging the cliffs. The Lookout is the last bungalow before the Atlantic and Cara likes the fact that its windows look out across the vast ocean towards Puerto Rico, some four thousand miles away. It is a relatively unknown cove and she likes that too, providing her with the privacy she needs to face her grief head-on and to find the strength to continue… for her little family.
Sighing deeply, she phones Ben. ‘All organised,’ Cara says, trying to muster some enthusiasm for the proposed outing.
‘Hey, Cara, that’s great! I’ll pick you up at seven.’ His excitement emanates through the ether and she removes the iPhone from her ear. ‘See you, babe.’
Babe!
She watches the man approach her end of the beach; one of the more intrepid explorers who occasionally stumble upon the hidden cove. Turning his back to the wind and rain coming in off the sea, he glances up at the window and spies her observing him. He nods and Cara acknowledges him with a smile. He’s older than she expected, but attractive and cloaked in an air of sophistication, as though he knows his worth. And he’s definitely not local – she would have remembered him.
‘Sorry, Ben,’ she says quietly to herself.
Chapter Four
It’s late afternoon and the house is quiet. Alone in his study, Oliver checks the Holy Isle website.
‘Can I have a chat with you, Dad?’ His eldest son is at the door.
‘Of course. What’s up?’
Charlie walks across the room and sits in the leather armchair in front of the fire. He’s a good-looking lad, tall and sporty, with an easy-going nature and popular with both sexes. In fact, his social life astounds his parents.
Oliver waits for his son to speak. When he doesn’t, Oliver uses their affectionate childhood name for him. ‘Well, Charlie-Boy?’
Charlie glances up through thick brown eyelashes, a worried look clouding his eyes. He shifts uncomfortably but remains silent.
‘I hear you’ve got a science project to finish before Monday,’ Oliver says, diverting his son.
Charlie pulls a face. ‘It’s causing some problems, I can tell you, but Gary’s working on it. Hopefully we’ll have a solution by the end of the day.’
‘It’s a joint project, then?’
‘Yeah. Nathan’s also applying his humongous brain so, between us, we should be able to crack it.’
His son’s newly acquired deep voice makes Oliver smile. Only last summer he was a young lad. Now he’s almost a man.
‘So, if you don’t need your old man to apply his brain to your homework what do you want to talk to him about?’
Quickly Charlie looks away. It’s unlike him to be so awkward and Oliver frowns. When he was Charlie’s age he was in the grips of clinical depression with no one to talk to and nowhere to turn, but he knows this is not what afflicts his son.
‘It’s about...’ Charlie shifts again, his fingers picking at the leather trim of the arm rest. Taking a deep breath, he looks at Oliver, wide-eyed and vulnerable. ‘It’s Penny, Nathan’s sister.’
Ah! Fifteen and all those unharnessed hormones…
‘I remember her from your party. Very pretty.’
‘Yes, well…’ Charlie flushes with embarrassment and the ensuing words come out in a rush. ‘The thing is, she says she wants to go out with me but Karen’s pretty too and I’m kind of dating her.’
Charles Foxley dating! Oliver attempts to hold back the smile.
‘Can’t be too bad having two babes chasing after you?’
‘Dad, it’s awful!’ Charlie exclaims.
Oliver straightens up. How can that be awful?
‘I like them both, although Karen is getting a bit heavy...’ The sentence peters out.
There is so much time ahead for all this,
thinks Oliver, but it’s crucial he advises wisely. He sees the worry etched upon Charlie’s usually carefree face, and his heart goes out to his eldest son. What would he do if he were in that situation? It’s not a problem he has ever had to face. Deanna has been there for most of his adult life.
‘Well, Charlie, you don’t have to tie yourself to either girl,’ Oliver says carefully. ‘You’re young and there will be many new experiences for you in the years to come. Just say you want to concentrate on getting good grades this year and then apportion your time between them.’
‘But Karen and I have sort of been together for a year.’
Now it’s Oliver’s turn to look wide-eyed. He had no idea, and his son lives under the same roof! What else has escaped his attention?
‘I really like Penny,’ Charlie continues, ‘but it will hurt Karen if I start seeing her best friend.’ The boy sighs in exasperation.
‘I don’t have much experience in that field,’ Oliver says honestly. ‘Before I met your mother I had a couple of girlfriends, though it was nothing serious. I was too preoccupied with sorting out my own gremlins. But, if I was in your position I would ask myself if I really wanted to commit to just one person at such a young age.’ Charlie listens intently. ‘And if that relationship isn’t all that it should be then I would remove myself from it and make myself more available to everybody. Not just Karen or Penny, but everybody. Enjoy your teenage years, experiment and experience things. Have some fun and don’t get too bogged down before your time.’ He smiles at his son. ‘I hope that’s of some help, Charlie.’
Deanna would have no problem dealing with this. She would know exactly how to handle it. Oddly, the thought depresses Oliver.
‘Thanks, Dad. You’ve given me quite a bit to consider,’ Charlie says, rising from the chair. ‘I’d better get back to my homework.’
‘Fancy joining me for a run later and getting some fresh air?’ Oliver suggests. ‘It’s amazing how clear things can become then.’
‘Yeah, catch you later.’
He watches his son walk from the room. The lad possesses an easy, athletic grace and Oliver wonders how many hearts Charlie will break before he finds his true path.
Turning his attention once again to the website, Oliver is immediately transported back to the island located off the west coast of Scotland where he spent a month the previous year. He was no stranger to the art of meditation; it was, however, the first time he encountered a special retreat devoted to Ngondro practice. His visit followed a particularly gruelling twenty months during which he worked back-to-back on two films – both box office hits – and it wasn’t over once they were in the can. A punishing schedule of press interviews, chat shows and associated red-carpet events led up to the launch of each film. His bank balance benefited enormously, but his health did not and he emerged exhausted and battling depression. Is this the reason he is reluctant to commit to the latest role?
Oliver massages his temples. Even now he can feel the powerful serenity and sense of direction he experienced during that period of personal time-out. He smiles at the memory of the gentle, wise man who gave talks and teachings on Buddhist topics, conducted personal interviews and led walks around the beautiful island. The daily meditation involved periods of silence; an almost impossible undertaking since returning to his world. Suddenly Oliver craves it again. He checks the details but the website states the course is full. Hesitating momentarily, he picks up the phone. Almost immediately, a serene voice answers. Explaining who he is, Oliver enquires whether a place can be found for him. He is put on hold.
Feeling guilty at playing on his public status, Oliver is considering retracting his request when the serene voice returns. ‘We wish you to know that you are held in the greatest respect, Oliver, and we are delighted you have chosen to further your studies with us.’
There and then, he books a two-week visit. Within a further ten minutes he has also booked a private helicopter to fly him to Holy Isle the following Saturday. For many years he has been unable to travel unrecognised in public and the pilots at the Hampshire-based flying company are used to landing their helicopters on the level paddocks behind Hunter’s Moon.
*
Cara is somewhere between sleep and waking. Feeling warm and comfortable, she basks in the glow of a dream from which she hopes never to wake. However, the wailing women have started up again and refuse to keep quiet. Groaning, she attempts to block out the world and hold onto her dream. This is the most difficult and longest day of the year to get through and she has no desire to face it just yet. But sleep’s sweet oblivion evades her and, reluctantly, she opens one eye. The room appears lighter than expected. Glancing at the alarm clock, she leaps out of bed and shouts to her children to get up. School starts within the next half-hour! As Cara runs from her bedroom into the hallway, the family’s Labrador appears at the threshold to Sky’s bedroom, excited by all the activity and noise.
‘Beth, Sky! Get up! We’re late!’
She peers into her son’s bedroom. The room is in its usual mess but he is not there. Her daughter’s room is also empty but, in contrast, tidy; the duvet straightened, clothes folded and toys neatly stacked.
‘Barnaby, get out from under my feet!’ Deftly sidestepping the dog, she bolts down the hallway into the living room.
Sitting at the dining table, dressed in their school uniforms, the children look up in surprise at her sudden entrance.
‘Sky was hungry so I made him some toast,’ Bethany explains, ‘and I’ve given the animals their breakfasts too.’
Cara’s heartbeat slows. Her daughter is so grown-up!
‘You were hungry too,’ says Sky indignantly, holding out a piece of toast to Barnaby.
Sitting obediently at the boy’s feet, the dog gently takes the offering and swallows it whole.
‘Sky, don’t give Barnaby buttered toast,’ Cara says. ‘It’s not good for him. I’m going to get dressed.’
She sprints to her bathroom, hurries through her ablutions and throws on the nearest clothes she can find. Running a brush through her hair, she glances in the mirror and then at her watch. It’ll have to do! Charging back to the kitchen, she finds Barnaby licking the cat’s bowl clean. Swishing his tail across the kitchen worktop, the cat directs a low, menacing growl at the large, yellow dog.
‘Must everything go wrong today, of all days?’ Cara groans.
‘It’s all right, Mum,’ says Bethany. ‘It’ll be OK.’
She turns to see her daughter looking at her with such kindness in her eyes that it’s almost her undoing. Cara swallows hard. When did that child become so adult? She rummages for car keys in the kitchen drawer and grabs her bag from the chair.
‘Sky, if you don’t get a move on we’re going without you,’ she calls in the direction of his bedroom.
‘I’m coming!’ The boy appears in the doorway, dragging a bulging school bag. Glancing at his sister, he rolls his eyes.
‘Come on, then. And leave Barnaby here.’
‘But he wants to come too,’ whines Sky.
‘Well, he can’t,’ snaps Cara, immediately overcome with remorse. ‘I’ve got shopping to do after dropping you off at school,’ she continues more softly.
Sky opens his mouth to speak but, catching Bethany’s warning look, he closes it again. His sister whispers in his ear.
‘OK, Mum, take us to school,’ he says in a jokey-bossy voice and promptly marches across the living room towards the hallway.
As Bethany follows, she glances at her mother and mouths, Boys!
Cara wants to laugh, or cry; she’s not sure which. Grabbing a jacket from the coat rack in the hall, she closes the porch door just in time to prevent Barnaby escaping through it.
‘Sorry, Barns, won’t be long. Then we’ll go for a W_A_L_K,’ she says, pressing the key fob and unlocking the doors to her car.
There’s a threat of rain in the air and a cold wind blows in from the ocean. The choppy sea foams at the water’s edge and the
outgoing tide has left vast areas of shining, mirror-like sand, dull grey in colour, under a washed-out sky. All this Cara acknowledges as she follows her children to the car, and a modicum of peace comforts her stricken soul. She climbs in and quickly closes the door, shutting out the cold air, and glances in the rear-view mirror at her children already sitting in the back seat. Carefully reversing the car within the small turning space at the side of the bungalow, she heads up the dirt track and, ten minutes later, deposits her children at the gates of their primary school in Cury.
‘Don’t forget Janine’s picking you up this afternoon,’ she calls through the open window.
‘We haven’t forgotten,’ Bethany says. Shifting the strap of her school bag to a more comfortable position on her shoulder, she waves with her free hand.
Sky, distracted by a friend calling to him, rushes into the school grounds without a backward glance.
Cara blows her daughter a kiss. Putting the car into gear, she drives to the supermarket on the outskirts of Helston, hoping it will have everything she needs. Taut, her senses stretched, she cannot let anything push her over the edge today. The car park is nearly full and she has trouble finding an empty parking bay, and there’s only one trolley sitting forlornly at the entrance. Aware of another fast-approaching shopper, she quickens her pace and swiftly claims it. Methodically, Cara works the aisles. She’s deliberating over the meat counter when she bumps into one of the other mums whose daughter is in the same class as Bethany.
‘Hi, Barbara. How are things?’
‘Oh, hi, Cara. Good, thanks. Nick’s got a building contract with that new hotel in Penzance. It could be for up to a year.’
‘Good for him,’ says Cara, knowing only too well how challenging it can be to earn a living. ‘Beth tells me Diana has been picked for the netball team.’
Barbara beams. ‘Centre forward. She’s thrilled!’
Cara nods politely. And then there’s that familiar, uncomfortable pause. Will this ever pass?
‘How’s the gallery?’ Barbara eventually asks.
‘Oh, you know, Porthleven in January. But we’re open most days and I have a few sales from the Internet, so can’t grumble.’
