Summer on the Little Cornish Isles
Page 30
‘No. Some things are best left as secrets. I don’t believe in all this sharing and baring your soul in public. Especially in those days and especially when you make a habit of falling for the wrong person. I loved Archie but, you see, I also loved Sheila.’
Poppy was stopped in her tracks. ‘Oh …’
‘Yes. She and I hit it off right away. Almost from the first moment we saw each other, the way she looked at me wasn’t like other women did. When I was modelling, it wasn’t envy or disgust – Sheila liked me in the same way that Archie did. She was shy and the way she kept glancing up and looking at me, it was like a butterfly landing on a flower, so gentle and careful, but she kept on doing it. And I felt the same way about her.’
Poppy hardly dared speak, imagining what it must be like for Fen to speak of a love so private and personal and, back then, so illicit. Her heart went out to Fen. ‘That’s so beautiful. Did you get together?’ she asked gently.
‘Sheila was on the course for two weeks and we knew we didn’t have much time, so I bit the bullet and let her know how I felt. I had the most wonderful two weeks of my life with her. We went on picnics and walks and took Archie’s boat out. To the outside world, it was all innocent, because in those days, no one would have suspected we were anything but friends.’
‘Did Archie know?’
‘Of course, he did. Nothing shocks him and, bless the man, he was happy for me. He knew that the two of us could never be together and he was delighted that I’d found someone. But, of course, it could never be for me and Sheila. Not back then.’
Poppy’s heart broke a little more. She guessed what was coming.
‘Sheila went home and we promised to keep in touch. When she finished her nursing training, we vowed we’d get together and live together as a proper couple. We’d move to London or abroad … We kept in touch for a few years and she sent letters and cards. I still have them in the cottage.’ Fen smiled though there was sadness in her eyes. ‘I keep them in an old box of Leo’s Dreamies inside my wardrobe.’
Poppy let out a breath. ‘So, the older drawing was for Sheila?’
‘Yes. Archie wanted me to send it to her, but I never dared. It was a good job I didn’t.’ Fen sighed heavily.
‘Why? What happened?’
‘Sheila married a man she met at the hospital – a consultant – and her letters changed. They became the kind of letters that friends – acquaintances – exchange and when she told me she’d met “a wonderful man she was going to marry”, I knew we’d never live out our dreams – perhaps I’d always known that. I wrote back and congratulated her and, after that, there were only birthday and Christmas cards with a scribbled one line, ‘hope you’re well’ kind of thing. As the years went by, she’d always send a photo at Christmas, with her and the children – and the grandchildren – as if she wanted to remind me to keep my distance. Until last Christmas.’ Fen held up her hands. ‘See these rings? The one on my left hand was from Archie, a couple of years after Ellie died.’
‘It’s beautiful. Not one of Minty’s, I can see that.’
Fen smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have her stuff within a mile of my person. No, it was made by an artist on St Saviour’s. And this one.’ Fen pointed to the thin silver circle with its amber oval, on her right hand. ‘This one came from Sheila. It arrived out of the blue in a jiffy bag last Christmas. There was a card with it, not signed but it said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t brave.” I knew who it was from and I also knew that something must have changed for her to have sent it. Turns out she had cancer.’
Poppy bit her lip. Her heart ached for Fen. ‘I’m pleased she sent it to you, even though she was so ill. It’s a beautiful ring. They both are and I’ve often admired them. She must have still cared about you very much. It’s heartbreaking you lost her; I’m so sorry.’
Fen held out both hands. The rings glinted in the sunlight. ‘Now, don’t feel sorry for me. It wasn’t our time.’ Fen patted Poppy’s hand, almost as if she was comforting her. What a brave, generous woman she was.
‘I wish you could have been with Sheila, all the same.’
‘Don’t be heartbroken because I’ve had the love of Archie all my life, and in later years, his full love. That’s more than some people do or they stay in a loveless marriage long after the joy has gone. You see, there are so many different kinds of love and ways of loving. I’m one of those people who doesn’t see a man or a woman, or a label. I just see a person who I fall in love with or not. And there have only been two: Sheila and Archie.’
‘But how awful for both you and Sheila, to love each other and not feel you could express it and to have to live a lie. I feel angry at the past, Fen. I want to go back and shout at people.’
‘Well, you can’t and you’ll only eat yourself up with bitterness if you take that course. Times were different then. I hate to sound like an old fart, but you young people don’t realise the freedoms you have and how precious they are. I know things are far from perfect, but you’ve far more opportunities to be who you are and love who you want. I kept my love life private. That’s not easy, as you’ve found, especially in such a small community. I’m not an “ism” and I won’t be labelled.’
‘Oh Fen. I’d never label you or judge you.’
‘You might not. You’re young – you and Jake – and you’re open-minded and you have a generous heart, but there are many who don’t. Even if they didn’t, I still prefer to keep things private, and so does Archie. So did Sheila. I don’t blame her and I never will. She’s gone now and her death and the funeral hit me hard.’
‘I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. I wish I’d known,’ Poppy hugged her.
‘Thank you, dear. It was a shock and I was bitterly grieved when I heard.’
‘And even at the funeral, no one knew how you’d felt about each other?’
‘Gosh, no. Everyone thought we’d just been friends a long time ago. Sheila lost her husband a few years back, but her two children and her grandchildren were there. Everyone was very kind to me, thanked me for coming, but to them, I expect, I was only another old codger who’d turned up for the tea and cakes.’
‘I’m sure they didn’t think that. When my grandad died, Mum and Dad were really touched and pleased that his friends had travelled so far to his funeral.’
Fen sighed. ‘I wanted to scream out: “I loved her too and she loved me.” Imagine if I’d done that over the sausage rolls and the scones?’ Her eyes shone brightly.
‘I can’t imagine not being able to let the world know how much you love someone.’ She glanced at Jake, brimming with relief that they’d finally decided to admit how they felt. ‘At least Sheila knew you loved her.’
‘Yes, and it makes me happier than I can say that you and Jake are together. You both deserved a fresh chance at happiness after what you’ve been through.’
Poppy hugged her again. ‘That’s lovely of you to say, but it’s Jake who’s truly suffered. I was devastated when Dan first went off, but now I think I had a very lucky escape. It was worth the pain to meet someone new.’
‘Someone who’s worthy of you,’ said Fen. ‘Now, let’s not dwell on the bad times. Let’s make the most of the party. Days like this don’t come around that often and I don’t mean the low tide.’
‘Does Jake know about you and Sheila?’ Poppy asked.
‘I don’t think so, unless Archie’s explained, but you can tell him if you like. I’d be too embarrassed to speak to him myself, him being a young man – he’s like a grandson to me, so you’d do me a service if you told him.’
‘Of course, but what about you and his grandpa? Does he know about you two?’
‘Archie’s spoken to him about it and I think it’s more than time that we stopped hiding how we feel.’
At that moment, Fen caught Archie’s eye and he walked over, his stick sinking a little in the sand.
As Poppy looked on in delighted amazement, Fen linked arms with him and he kissed her on the lips
.
Heads turned towards them. It was fair to say that a few jaws dropped.
‘That’s taken their minds off the tide!’ said Fen in triumph.
Archie chuckled. ‘Look at Trevor’s face. And his wife’s. Anyone would think we’d dyed our hair purple and walked out here in the buff.’
‘Maybe we should,’ said Fen.
‘I wish we’d done it years ago,’ said Archie, giving Fen another kiss.
Jake appeared, holding his camera in one hand. ‘If two eighty-year-olds can do it, I think we could too,’ he said and put his arm around her back.
Poppy turned and kissed him, the sun warm on her back, right there in the middle of the sand. When they broke away, they exchanged smiles and heard applause and whooping. Maisie raised her glass of fizz and mouthed ‘way to go’. Fen, who was holding hands with Archie, waved at them.
‘Hey! The tide’s on the turn!’ someone shouted.
The shout caught everyone’s attention and they looked towards the channel, where the waters were covering the sand, filling in the hollows, shining in the sunlight, and slowly but unstoppably, joining together again.
THE END
Acknowledgements
The best part of writing a book is often the research, so I’d like to thank the renowned Cornish artist and former gallery owner, Heather Howe, who was a brilliant source of information on the art world and running a gallery. One of her gorgeous paintings of Cornwall now hangs on my wall. You can find her on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/heatherhoweart/
A big hand also goes to my author friend, Chris Stovell, who is an intrepid and keen (sometimes!) sailor and helped me with the yachty parts of the book.
Cat owners, Sue Robinson, Lindy Young and Janice Hume, had loads of anecdotes (especially the trainer incident, which happened while I was writing and instantly went in the book!). With my editor, Rachel Faulkner-Willcocks, having recently acquired two kittens, I was very lucky to have first-hand feline knowledge on tap.
I visited lots of galleries and chatted to many talented artist makers – none of whom were the slightest bit divaish. They included jewellery maker, Hayley White; Beryl Evans of Lichfield Society of Artists; and professional artist, Kara Strachan, of the Art Loft, Curborough Countryside Centre. Textile artist, Philippa Day, was a big help and I must mention her canine companion, Jed, who has sadly now gone to doggy heaven. Hilary Ely has been my initial inspiration for this whole Scilly series and I couldn’t manage without the support of Nell Dixon and Liz Hanbury, ‘The Coffee Crew’ and my bookseller ‘bestie’ Janice Hume.
I have (and it’s now official) the best agent in the romantic fiction world: Broo Doherty of DHH Literary Agency. As for Team Avon – Rachel-Faulkner Willcocks, Katie Loughnane, Sabah Khan, Elke Desanghere and copy editor, Jade Craddock – after thirteen years in the business, I can tell you they’re the absolute cream of the crop.
Last but most of all, I want to thank my family for their love and support through thick and thin – John, Charlotte, James, Mum and Dad and Charles. ILY xx
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