The Returning Tide

by Liz Fenwick

  I can’t stop thinking about him.

  Is it possible that you’ll have leave over Christmas?

  My thoughts are everywhere and I must sign off and go and collect a rear admiral. I’ll post this today. Do write. Although I can hear you, it’s distant and I long to have you close again.

  With all my love xxx

  P.S. Mother is better with Rebecca here, which I didn’t think would be the case as she was always awkward when we went to their house. I’m also learning so much more about French cooking. Mme Pomfrey is merveilleux . As I’m working longer hours, she is doing much of the cooking and she is a wonderful seamstress.

  P.P.S. I know you are thinking about Philip’s death and are scared that my heart will be broken in the same way. I have to believe it won’t be. I have no choice in loving him, I just do. xxxx

  I put the letter down. So that was what I’d been feeling. She said she could hear me, but I felt her. That shimmery excitement tied up in my stomach, clenching with dread – that was all from her. We were different. I paced the cabin. Outside rain tipped down. Drops on the window raced each other, merging, separating and merging again.

  The last time I’d seen Eddie he was dancing with a WAAF and he was laughing. Now Amelia had fallen in love with him. What should I say to her? This talk of love was everywhere. My fellow Wrens were love-struck whether with new flames or old ones. War made everything uncertain. I hadn’t been in love with Philip but had considered it. His death still took my breath away. It was unfair.

  Sighing, I sat on the bunk. Loneliness. Despite having people around me all the time, I was alone. I missed Amelia so much it physically hurt. I wanted to cling to her. Maybe she was right to love and I was simply jealous.

  Despite the pain in my stomach, I forced my body upright. I needed to be on parade in five minutes. My reply to her would wait until this evening. I was pleased for her. Eddie was wonderful. They would be happy once the war was over. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to wait too long.

  Windward, Mawnan Smith, Falmouth, Cornwall

  26 August 2015

  ‘Peta’s stored her stuff in the library and filled the garage with what seems to be tons of junk.’ Jack rubbed his left shoulder. ‘Not sure how she managed to fit all of it into her flat in Falmouth.’

  ‘It will be strange having her on the other side of the river when she moves into the house with Fred.’ I looked up from the newspaper, although I’d been failing to read it. My thoughts had been back in the war. I couldn’t escape from it. I even woke sobbing in the night, and was thankful that I’d so far disturbed no one but myself.

  ‘She will still be close at hand.’

  I smiled. ‘The other side seems a long way away.’ I looked out to the bay. As the crow flies, the opposite side of the bay was so close and it was quite a quick journey with a boat. But in a car the route twisted through tiny lanes up and down the undulations of the landscape. Despite the proximity the geology of the south and the north of the Helford was different.

  ‘Not sure why’s she’s getting married.’

  ‘She’s in love.’

  He humphed. ‘What good does love do?’

  ‘Plenty.’

  ‘My parents were a shining example.’ He ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘They loved each other.’ I tilted my head to the side. If I kept this light, I might reach him. The loss of his mother and aunt had hit us all hard. But when his father George ignored his doctor’s warning and continued drinking, he all but gave himself the heart attack that killed him. Jack had pleaded with his father to slow down, to stop drinking and to remember that Peta and Jack needed him, loved him. George hadn’t heard. Grief had made him deaf to all but his own pain. In 2002 Jack had buried both his parents and his own heart shortly thereafter.

  ‘That’s my point. Too much love and look what that produced.’ His piercing blue eyes stared at me. They hadn’t missed much over the years. Always perceptive and sensitive when young, it distressed me to see them so hard now.

  ‘You and Peta.’

  He laughed and despite his cold veneer I knew falling in love was exactly what he needed. However I doubted he would ever let that happen, which saddened me. At least for a brief moment in time I too had known love and had swum in its all-encompassing waters. I knew from watching others that it could have been lifelong. The war had made short work of long term, the same way it had made short work of life and of death. But I had had love, at least, with all the fireworks.

  I looked at Jack. He was a good if contained man. His grandfather had had that same manner, which had hidden his passion. Andrew had loved me far more than I him. He’d never asked from me more than I could give. It had worked, but then we had been past the first flush of youth when we had married.

  I walked to the window. Despite being August, the weather had other plans. Guilt ran around me like the raindrops racing down the window. When Andrew – or Commodore Rowse, as he was then – had come to stay in Windward in 1964 with his family, I’d been keeping the roof above it by taking in bed and breakfast guests. My world shook when he walked through the door with his children. He was so much a part of the past I’d tried to forget. But by the end of their three-week visit he’d convinced me to marry him. I’m still not sure how. My heart had been locked tightly away. It might have been the way this gentle widower behaved with his two teenagers, and was so clearly devoted to them. He’d wanted their time on holiday to be special yet he’d dragged me out on picnics with them and reminded me that laughter was possible again – especially with games of beach cricket.

  ‘What’s making you smile?’

  ‘Thoughts of your grandfather.’ I touched his hand. ‘It may not have been the state of passion that Peta is in with Fred, but it was good and it was worth having.’

  ‘If you say so.’ He flexed his shoulders. ‘I’ve got some work to do.’

  I frowned. He didn’t need to work – he had plenty of money from selling the accountancy widget thing he’d created. And yet, for the hell of it, he played with numbers doing the accounts for a few local firms. He should have been focusing on living, but he wouldn’t be told.

  Nine

  Eventide, Falmouth Heights, Cape Cod, Massachusetts

  26 August 2015

  Walking back into the kitchen, Lara straightened the cookbooks on the shelf. Comfort food. She knew the recipe by heart for the Jordan Marsh blueberry muffins. It was a hot day to be baking but she didn’t care. The house would smell wonderful and she could eat the results. She preheated the oven, greased the tins and then began to measure the ingredients.

  Leo walked through the back door carrying a newspaper as she was creaming the butter and sugar together. He stuck a finger into the bowl and she slapped his hand.

  ‘Oi.’ She dipped her own finger into the bowl and tasted the mixture. The butter melted in her mouth. She sighed.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  She frowned. ‘Am I that transparent?’

  ‘To me.’ He watched her measure out the dry ingredients. ‘You’ve always cooked when you are worried.’

  She stopped mixing, dusted the blueberries in flour and then added a pinch of cinnamon to the mix.

  ‘Spill.’ He sat on the counter not far from where she was working.

  ‘If I’m honest, I think I’m afraid to leave here … that it will be gone when I return.’

  He stuck his finger in the batter again. ‘It will be.’

  ‘You’re so matter of fact.’

  ‘It makes it easier.’

  ‘Does it?’ She tilted her head to one side and studied him.

  ‘You need to move on. We all do.’

  ‘True.’ When she’d filled the tins she handed the bowl and mixture-covered spoon to Leo before she put the muffins into the oven.

  ‘Afraid of travel?’

  Wincing, she said, ‘A bit. Of flying, at least.’ She set the timer. ‘Also the irrational fear that we shouldn’t dig into Grandie’s p
ast.’

  ‘Adele, you mean.’ He polished off the batter on the spoon and began on the bowl.

  She nodded.

  He took a breath. ‘We all have secrets.’

  Lara laughed. ‘Yeah, I know, but he was so … straight.’

  ‘True.’ He sighed. ‘I doubt you’ll find anything out about either Amelia or Adele, whoever she was. But you’ll have a good break with Cassie and return refreshed.’

  Lara smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘A pleasure. And now on this glorious day, let’s take a trip down memory lane once the muffins are done.’ He put the finished bowl in the sink.

  Shaking the sand off her towel, Lara climbed into Leo’s car. They hadn’t spent a day on the beach together in years. And this one, Craigville, had been a favourite of Grandie’s. It had been an inspired choice on Leo’s part. With the car door still open, she brushed the sand off her feet, slipped her flip-flops on and breathed in the scent of suntan lotion carried on the breeze. Leo made his way through the families spread across the beach to join her.

  ‘Now for an ice cream,’ he said, climbing in and starting the engine.

  ‘Perfect.’ Lara leaned back and pulled her salt-crisped hair into a ponytail. This whole day had been a healing one.

  ‘Four Seas.’

  Lara smiled. A trip to the ice cream parlour had always been Grandie’s way to tempt them off the beach. According to him Four Seas had the best ice cream on the Cape, and the full parking lot as they arrived confirmed this. Lara looked to see if the board still hung outside listing the flavours. As a child her favourite had always been peppermint stick but as an adult she’d learned to appreciate the perfection of vanilla. Some might call it boring but the subtle balance of the sweet with the spice was a hard-won thing. Too much of either and the ice cream was over-sweet or overpowering. She appreciated both the quick all-in method of making a light vanilla and the richness of a custard-based one. It depended on what if anything it was being paired with and what had come before. People had so little appreciation of how their main course could affect their enjoyment of their dessert. They would often be better off experiencing a set meal where the chef was aware of the blending of flavours.

  She shrugged away her thoughts and pulled open the parlour’s screen door. Right now she was famished.

  ‘Shall we grab a table and enjoy being here rather than just taking a cone away?’ Leo gave her a questioning glance.

  ‘You read my mind.’ Lara smiled and followed him to the bright blue booths. Once seated, she saw a sign above the door advertising banana splits. She must have been twelve the last time she’d had one. Her mouth watered.

  A waitress arrived and placed glasses of water on the table. ‘I’ll give you a minute.’

  ‘No need. I know what I’m having.’ Lara looked at Leo. He grinned.

  ‘Great.’ The waitress pulled out her pad and pencil.

  ‘I’ll have the banana split with vanilla ice cream.’

  ‘Do you want strawberries too?’

  Lara thought about the sweet stickiness of the berries with the chocolate sauce, the vanilla and the banana. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Anything else?’ she asked.

  ‘A black coffee, thanks.’

  The waitress turned to Leo.

  ‘Could I have the same, please?’ He smiled and glanced at Lara. ‘Well, you didn’t look like you’d share.’ She laughed. He took his sunglasses off the top of his head. ‘So let’s get down to important stuff.’

  Lara looked up, worried.

  ‘Are you OK for money?’

  Before she could answer, their coffee arrived, giving her time to think. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘I don’t have a mortgage any more and I’m still being paid. So I should be fine for a while.’

  ‘Good. And you’re smiling.’

  ‘It’s been a great day.’ She grinned. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It was obviously the salt water.’

  She laughed. ‘Grandie said that about everything from cuts and bruises to a cold.’

  ‘I know. But he was right. We’re both better for today.’

  ‘We are.’

  The waitress brought their banana splits. Leo picked the cherry off the top and offered it to Lara. She didn’t hesitate and ate it immediately. It was childhood all over again. She took up the long spoon and dug down deep to capture a bit of all the flavours.

  ‘So now is a good time to tell you something.’ Leo looked serious despite his words. ‘I know it’s all been rough – the divorce, Grandie’s death – and I know how tough you are.’ He looked at her. ‘But you need to go easy on yourself.’ He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘You’ve just lost two of your greatest loves.’

  ‘Thank you for reminding me.’ She peered at the melting mess at the bottom of the bowl. It was a good representation of her life.

  ‘Sorry. But on the upside, Grandie has left you some money.’ He took a sip of coffee.

  ‘What?’ Her head shot up.

  ‘So it’s time to plan your life while you’re away.’ Leo leaned back and studied her.

  ‘I didn’t expect anything.’ The ice cream was almost melted and she took another mouthful. The mix hit her taste buds with the sweet sharpness of the berries and the buttery richness of the chocolate sauce.

  ‘I know, and he wanted it kept a secret.’

  ‘Why?’ She pushed the dish away. She could use another coffee to help her think.

  ‘At the time I helped him to update the will I thought he was just being discreet, but now I’m beginning to think Grandie liked secrets.’

  ‘You mean like Adele?’

  Leo nodded, then looked up from her, and his mouth broke into a big smile as he stood. ‘Why, if it isn’t Judith Warren,’ he said.

  ‘Leo.’ A tall dark-haired woman kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Let me introduce you to my husband, Tristan Trevillion.’

  Leo shook his hand. ‘Why don’t you join my sister Lara and me?’

  ‘Would love to, but we haven’t got the time. I’m trying to show Tristan the highlights. It’s his first trip to the Cape.’ She took Tristan’s hand and Lara envied the happiness radiating from them both. Tristan’s eyes reminded Lara of the sea and their gaze barely left Judith.

  ‘Here for John’s wedding?’ Leo asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Judith blushed, looking slightly awkward, and Lara made a mental note to ask Leo more about John. She wondered if he was a friend from the law firm.

  ‘I’m so happy for him.’ Judith smiled.

  ‘Me too.’ Leo raised an eyebrow. ‘How’s life in England?’

  ‘Love it. I can’t begin to say how much Cornwall suits me.’

  Lara’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘I’d forgotten that’s where you went.’ Leo turned towards Lara. ‘Lara will be there soon to do a bit of family history research.’

  Judith pulled a card out of her bag. ‘How wonderful. You’ll love it. If you find yourself near the Helford River, give us a call.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s exactly where I’ll be staying.’ Lara smiled, tucking the card into her own bag.

  ‘Then definitely call.’ Judith turned to Leo. ‘See you next week at John’s wedding and congrats on your news.’ She glanced at Lara. ‘I know it’s a secret but I hear congratulations are in order for you. I saw Deborah last night at her parents’. She looks so happy I guessed the news and she confessed.’

  Lara’s glance shot from Judith to Leo. His face filled with colour as he nodded.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  Leo remained standing until Judith and Tristan had reached the counter. Lara glared at him the whole time, giving him the full death-stare, until he finally looked back at her, his expression awkward and tense.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I was about to tell you.’

  Lara took a few deep breaths, fighting back the tears.

  ‘Seriously I was. In fact the next thing I was going to say was that I needed you back in December for the wedding. Will you b
e my best man?’

  Lara opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. Of course she would stand up for her brother. Deborah, his girlfriend – fiancée, she corrected herself – was great, but it hit her that now more than ever she was truly alone. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m sorry you heard this way.’ He reached across the table. ‘We only decided after the funeral.’ He picked up her hand. ‘Losing Grandie made me realise I didn’t want to waste another day.’ His grip tightened. ‘Today was all about us having some time together so that I could tell you.’

  ‘I’m thrilled for you both.’ Lara looked into her brother’s eyes, so like her own. They were filled with happiness. She wanted that kind of happiness for herself, but she’d blown her chance.

  ‘You’ll be OK, Runt. Pierre wasn’t the right one. You’ll find your soul mate.’

  A tear wobbled on the corner of her eye and she blinked.

  ‘Do you remember the scandal when a friend of mine was left at the altar?’

  Lara nodded, wondering where this was leading.

  ‘It was John who was left and Judith was the woman who ran away.’

  Now Lara knew why the reference to John had made Judith blush. She scanned the crowd at the counter but Judith and Tristan had gone. ‘She doesn’t look the type.’

  ‘No, but she did the right thing, although it didn’t seem that way at the time.’

  ‘The right thing?’

  ‘Yes, she knew it wasn’t right and she didn’t do what everyone expected of her.’ He stared at her and Lara looked away. Leo knew her so well.

  Lee Tide

  But no Man moved Me – till the Tide

  Went past my simple Shoe –

  And past my Apron – and my Belt

  And past my Boddice – too

  EMILY DICKINSON, 656