‘Both.’ Pepper swallowed so as not to cry, and Finn pulled her closer. ‘But you’re right – I have changed for the better. I think that falling in love with you has made me stronger, made me see myself in the way you see me. I feel like a lot of my confusion about the past has settled, and I can move forwards and help my mum to do the same.’
She sighed, her head buried against the soft downy hair on his chest. There was a part of Pepper that wanted to stay right where she was, here with a man who loved her, who would support her, who meant so much to her. But then, there was the other side of the pebble, the one that didn’t catch the sunlight and shine like a dropped penny on the shoreline. The half of Pepper’s life that ran a business she loved, had a great network of people around her who had shown that they were friends in the truest sense, and a mother who was only now beginning to come back to her.
She could not have both.
‘Don’t cry.’ Finn wiped away her tears with his thumb.
‘I can’t help it.’ Pepper sniffed, taking a long shuddering breath before raising her eyes to his.
Finn searched her eyes, looking for a way to soothe, and then he saw it. The truth.
‘You came here to tell me it is over.’
It wasn’t a question.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t know what I was going to do until I got here. I saw you in the centre of your world tonight, so loved and so happy. I watched you, and I could see that you were in the right place, where you are meant to be. You belong in this world, with these people and with your child.’
She smiled, hoping that he would follow her lead, but Finn’s expression had darkened.
‘You say that you love me,’ he said, his voice low, ‘but you refuse to try. Don’t you believe that we are worth fighting for? Look at the way we met, how we were put together – that must mean something to you?’
‘It does!’ Pepper shuffled up on her elbows. ‘Of course it does. Loving you is the best feeling I have ever had, next to painting. This summer has been the best of my life. Finn, before this summer, I had never even been abroad; I was existing, not really living, but now I feel the opposite way – I feel as if I could do anything. Such a big part of that is because of you, but it’s so fragile. If I left now and moved here, it would all fall apart – I would fall apart.’
Finn did not look angry now so much as defeated, and Pepper shut her eyes against the anguish she felt.
‘This is not my world, Finn. I don’t belong here. Things with my mother, they’re finally starting to hurt less, and I think we have a real chance of rebuilding our relationship – our whole family do. I want to be there; I don’t want to run away. I’m not being selfless by saying that, it’s what I want.’
‘Why can’t you have both?’ he asked. ‘Be here, but sometimes be there? You will not even try?’
‘You deserve better than someone who would need to try,’ she said. ‘You deserve someone who knows for sure, straight away. Just like you did with me, that day on the steps in Lisbon. You always knew better than me, believed with more determination than me, gave away more of your heart than me.’
‘I can believe enough for both of us,’ he said desperately. ‘If you would only let me.’
‘I know you would, and you’re so incredible to even offer. You know, I used to feel like a fool for being such a fan of love, but meeting you and loving you,’ she said determinedly, ‘has taught me a lesson about love that I could never have learnt from a film or a book.’
She gave herself a moment’s composure, thinking of Josephine and Jorge, of the love that had been captured so beautifully in the photo that now hung, pride of place, on her bedroom wall.
Their love story had never dimmed; it had carried on throughout her friend’s entire life, had comforted her, and led her to adventure. It didn’t matter that their lives went in different directions, what mattered was the moments they had shared. The love remained because Josephine had not forgotten it, just as Pepper would not forget Finn.
‘I didn’t know it was possible for one person to experience so much love. I thought that there wasn’t much of any in my life, but there is so much. I think I had to fall in love with you to realise it. And I want you to know that I will always, always, always love you, Finn.’
Pepper smiled at him through her tears and took his face in her hands.
They kissed for all they had shared, and for every future moment they would spend apart; they kissed for custard tarts and wet shoes slapping across rain-soaked cobbles; they kissed for his thigh against hers on the seat of a bus, an airport embrace that earned them a cheer; they kissed for eggs in cups and errant bats, for paddling in the sea and drinking beer in the sunshine. They kissed for all the pieces of their love story.
But most of all, they kissed each other goodbye.
Chapter 53
Pepper found Josephine in the same place she had found her back in the spring, sitting with an easel on Aldeburgh’s wide stony beach.
This time, however, there was no painting coming to life on her canvas – it was as blank as the sky above the water, her brushes as dry as the driftwood that was scattered like leaves amongst the pebbles. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, Josephine had wrapped herself up in a pale blue pashmina that matched her eyes.
‘I thought I would find you here,’ Pepper said, putting her bag down on the ground and unfolding the canvas camping chair she had brought from the flat.
Josephine’s smile was faint.
‘I wanted one last look at the view,’ she said.
‘I can’t believe you fly tomorrow,’ Pepper said forlornly, and Josephine sighed.
‘Yes, it has come around far too speedily, hasn’t it? It’s a funny thing, you know. When I was in my twenties, it felt as if life was one endless gallivant, but I also thought that by the time I reached this ripe old age, I would be ready to stop. Fact is, I am nowhere near ready – I want nothing more than to keep going, but my body’ – she held up a tremoring hand as proof – ‘clearly had other ideas.’
‘Not your body,’ corrected Pepper. ‘A horrible, unforgivable and cruel disease.’
‘The doctors keep reminding me that Parkinson’s is not fatal.’ Josephine scoffed. ‘But it is a death sentence to spontaneity, and independence.’
‘Don’t let it be!’ Pepper insisted. ‘Don’t allow it to crush your spirit.’
‘My darling girl.’ Josephine shifted on her deckchair and winced as if in pain. ‘You know as well as I do that it would take more than a spot of Parkinson’s to knock this old bird down. But let’s not talk about things that are guaranteed to put a dampener on the day. Tell me about Hamburg – was the party a big success?’
‘In a moment.’ Pepper reached down for her bag and extracted two cans of pre-mixed gin and tonic. ‘First, I thought we should have a toast.’
‘Oh, goody!’
Pepper cracked open both drinks and handed one across.
‘To Josephine Hurley,’ she said solemnly. ‘The funniest, most fabulous and sneakiest woman I have ever met.’
Josephine tittered with amusement as she took a sip.
‘Sneakiest? I must say, I have no idea what you’re getting at.’
Pepper lowered her can.
‘The tiles!’ she exclaimed. ‘My collection of work that you stole and gave to Finn!’
‘Ah.’ Josephine chuckled. ‘That.’
‘I still don’t understand how you did it – or when?’
Josephine looked out towards the water for a moment, her gaze drawn by the gentle swish of the waves. Pepper wondered if like her, Josephine found the repetitive nature of the sea a comfort – a force of nature that you could always rely upon to follow the same pattern.
‘It all started one evening, when I received a rather interesting phone call from your mother.’
Pepper almost choked on her gin.
‘As it turns out,’ Josephine went on, clearly enjoying herself, ‘she spied on you.’
‘She told me that she’d headed over to your house one night, because she wanted to talk to you about something. She arrived at the front door and knocked, but you never came, and so she tried the handle, and it was open. Then she made it as far as the garden path before she saw you, so intent on what you were doing that you didn’t even see her standing there. She explained that it was the first time she had seen you painting in years, and that you looked so enraptured. She was mesmerised, I suppose. And she didn’t want to break the wonderful spell you were under, so she waited. But then you did the most extraordinary thing.’
Pepper looked down at her shoes, shame casting flames across her cheeks.
‘You smashed the tile you had just painted – and your mother told me that it was so beautiful. She could not understand why you would do such a thing, and neither could I, at first, but then, as I got to know you better, I guessed what it was that drove you. It was guilt, seeping in and infecting your self-confidence. God knows, I can recognise that. I spent years crippled by it myself, of course.’
‘Why didn’t she say anything at the time?’ Pepper asked. ‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I can’t speak for Trinity, but I remained quiet because I didn’t want to embarrass you, darling. Besides, telling a person never has as much impact as showing them. Your mother thought, and I agreed, that if we could find a way to show you how good you were, then you might just believe it. After you and I went away together that first time and you met Finn, I could see that he had effected a change in you, and I hoped – correctly, as it transpired – that his positive influence would lead you to create something beautiful. I tipped off your mother when we returned, told her to keep an eye out, and soon she was pinching a few pieces every few days.’
‘How did she?’ Pepper began, but then she realised. Of course, her mother would have a spare set of keys – it had been Trinity’s parents’ cottage once upon a time. As for the studio, Pepper was forever tossing her set of keys for that down on the kitchen worktop whenever she went out – that’s if she even remembered to lock it.
‘We both agreed that you were selling yourself far too short, young lady. And I was only too eager to be of service. In fact, it was often I who tipped her off when you were out of the house. After the fire, I know she wanted to tell you, but by that time I had already been in touch with Finn and he was adamant that it remain a secret. He assumed, rightly I imagine, that you would not have allowed him to buy them if you had known.’
‘Finn didn’t buy them,’ she said. ‘He sold them to some mystery person.’
Josephine looked as if she was going to laugh.
‘What?’ Pepper persisted. ‘Do you know who it is?’
‘Naturally.’ She smiled. ‘As do you.’
Pepper was confused, but then it dawned on her. There was only one person it could be.
‘Finn. Finn is my mystery buyer? But that makes no sense.’
‘He loves you, darling,’ Josephine reminded her. ‘So it makes perfect sense.’
For a second, Pepper was stilled by an image of him. Saying goodbye to Finn was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do – and now she had to bid farewell to Josephine, too.
‘I half hoped that he would be here today,’ Josephine confided, but Pepper shook her head.
‘Oh – so not the romantic reunion I was wishing for, then?’
‘Finn is exactly where he belongs,’ Pepper said firmly. ‘As am I.’
Disappointment flashed briefly across Josephine’s face, but then she shrugged.
‘Sometimes people come into our lives right at the time when we need them the most, to help us transition or to realise what it is we need. Perhaps Finn was that person for you?’
‘Just like Jorge was for you,’ said Pepper, and the older woman’s eyes became watery.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But there is something I must tell you about Jorge.’
There was a wistfulness to her now that made Pepper lean forwards in her chair. She took another sip of her drink, trying to read her friend’s expression.
‘That evening in Lisbon, when I went off for a wander by myself,’ she began, and Pepper nodded. ‘Well, I found the restaurant that his family used to own.’
‘You told me,’ Pepper interrupted. ‘You said there was nobody there who knew him?’
‘Yes, well.’ Josephine gave her a shifty look. ‘I may have . . . Well, let’s just say, there might have been a bit of fibbing on my part. His family were still there. I met his daughter, in fact – she was so beautiful, had his eyes. She told me that Jorge, bless his heart, had passed away a few years previously.’
‘Oh no!’ Pepper cried. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Josephine dabbed at her eyes with her pashmina. A breeze was rolling in from the sea now, blowing her frizzy grey halo of hair in all directions.
‘Grief is a very private affair, as you know,’ she said quietly. ‘And honestly, I didn’t want to end the story so soon, for myself or for you. I loved seeing how inspired you were by our little quest. If you had known the truth, you might not have come with me to Barcelona – and I so wanted us to go. Going back to those places reminded me of what was important. Namely, spending as much time as I have left with those who love me the most. My children have wanted to look after me for so many years, and I have pushed them away time and time again. Now it’s time to stop all that.’
Pepper nodded as she thought of her own mother, of all the years they had wasted. She was going to miss Josephine almost as much if not more than Finn, but her leaving was the right thing.
‘What am I going to do without you?’ Pepper pulled down the sleeve of her cardigan to wipe her eyes as Josephine raised her gin and tonic in another toast.
‘Drink!’ she said. ‘And laugh as hard as you can, as often as you can – the same goes for love. That one is an important one. And you must keep creating – nurture your talent and share it far and wide, my darling.’
‘I thought I might start by painting all the places in the world that my sister and I wanted to see,’ Pepper told her. ‘Something to keep me occupied while my studio is rebuilt.’
They were still toasting one another and laughing when they heard the crunch of feet on shingle. Turning in their chairs, Pepper and Josephine waved across at the two people coming to join them.
‘She looks radiant today, your mother,’ Josephine said. ‘The first time I met her, she was like this little dormouse, all curled up and shut off from the world. Now she’s positively glowing.’
‘I gave her a present this morning,’ Pepper confided. ‘A drawing that my sister did, which somehow found its way to me this summer. She loves it – she’s put it up on the fridge.’
‘How wonderful!’
‘I hope you don’t mind them being here?’ Pepper went on. ‘They both wanted the chance to see you before you go. Now I understand why my mum was so insistent!’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Josephine gripped her stick, preparing to stand. ‘It makes me very happy to know that I’m leaving you in such good hands. Because they are not only here for a silly old crone like me. They’re here because they love you, Philippa.’
Her mother had reached them now, but Samuel was still a little way behind. He had stopped to pick something up, a stone or a shell, perhaps, and when he glanced up and saw Pepper staring across at him, he smiled.
It was if a light had been switched on.
Epilogue
Ten years later . . .
The door of the gallery was propped open when they arrived, and a shaft of sunlight lay like a fallen sail across the wooden floor.
The woman took her husband’s hand as they crossed the threshold, her fingers tightening around his involuntarily as she saw the tiled mural on the far wall.
‘There it is,’ she whispered, hushed into reverence by her own enchantment. They had come so far, the two of them, had waited so long to be here.
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br /> ‘Hallo.’
The woman smiled at the little boy walking towards them. He was wearing an apron dotted with paint stains, and from the looks of things, had also got some in his blond hair.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked, his English flavoured with the German he had grown up speaking.
‘I hope we came to the right place,’ she began, stopping when the boy beamed at her.
‘Are you from Australia?’ The idea seemed to thrill him. ‘They have pelicans there as big as cars!’
‘Cars, you reckon?’ The woman chuckled. ‘That sounds about right.’
‘Hamburg does not have many pelicans,’ he added, rather sadly. ‘Only in the zoo.’
‘Oh, but you do have the headquarters of the Pelican website – that’s a huge deal.’
‘Mein Papa,’ he said, flashing them an apologetic grin when he realised he had lapsed back into German. ‘My father. He is the boss.’
‘Then he is the one who owns the first work by Philippa Selassie over there,’ the woman’s husband put in. ‘We came all the way from Australia to see it.’
The little boy’s eyes widened at this information, and he wiped both his hands on the front of his apron.
‘My father is the one who discovered her,’ he said proudly, stumbling slightly over the longer English word.
‘I know,’ the woman confided. ‘And it was my mother who helped to make sure he knew just how talented she is. That’s why we came to see her work for ourselves, because Philippa meant a lot to my mum.’
There were tears in the woman’s eyes now, and she blinked them hurriedly away.
‘May we?’ she asked, and the boy nodded with enthusiasm.
The couple followed him to the back of the room, to where the spread of tiles was mounted inside a simple gold frame. It was a few minutes before any of them spoke again, each drawn in by the fable playing out in front of them, by the dashes of colour, intricate patterns, exquisite details and the pure life force that seemed to flow between each one.
‘Does it have a name, this work?’ the man asked eventually, turning to the little boy.
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