The Returning Tide

by Liz Fenwick

  She bit her lip, debating what to do. She longed to talk to Elle and spend more time at Windward but she was now getting a distinct ‘brick wall’ vibe from Jack. In fact, maybe a brick wall was too friendly a comparison. ‘Is this a bad time?’

  He opened his mouth.

  ‘Perfect timing.’ Peta stepped out from behind her brother. ‘Gran has just finished breakfast and is wondering what delights you two will create for lunch?’

  Jack turned swiftly and went up the stairs. Lara sensed that he had been about to tell her to leave but clearly Elle or Peta wanted her to stick around for some reason. Lara always knew when she was not wanted – it was probably the reason why she’d chosen to hit back at her boss. She blinked. Of course. Stephan, her boss, had been vile because she was treading on his heels. She’d done him a favour by quitting. She shook her head.

  ‘Peta, thanks for trying to protect me, but I know when I’m not wanted.’

  Peta put the kettle on the Aga. ‘Nonsense. Jack is like that sometimes. Ignore him.’ She laughed. ‘I think it’s the accountant in him. He wants everything to work like numbers and pushes back when things don’t add up.’ She put the kettle on the range. ‘Life isn’t like that … it doesn’t come with precise instructions. It just throws ingredients at you and sees whether you make a meal or a mess.’ She took out three mugs. ‘Jack likes to be able to follow a recipe. It’s safer and there’s a guaranteed result at the end.’

  The image of Jack’s bare chest flashed in Lara’s mind. He was not an easy man to ignore. Peta smiled.

  ‘Have you had a formal job offer from Demi and Sam yet?’

  Lara grabbed the chair in front of her. ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘It will arrive today.’

  ‘Will it?’ Lara knew she would seriously consider it if it did come. ‘Look, Peta – I’d love to talk to Elle, to find out if she is my great-grandmother’s sister or cousin, but I don’t want to upset her.’

  Peta poured the water into the old teapot. ‘You won’t. She just needs a little more time before she can talk.’

  ‘Does she have that time?’

  ‘That I don’t know.’ She handed Lara a mug. ‘But I’m hoping she does.’

  Forty-One

  Windward, Mawnan Smith, Falmouth, Cornwall

  15 August 1945 – VJ Day

  Grandmother said the beach in the cove below Windward hadn’t been mined but the razor wire and other defences wouldn’t be cleared for a while. As I looked down on it from above it appeared the same yet different. The tide was out, revealing the jagged rocks, and the water ranged in colour from a deep, dark blue to turquoise. My back was baking in the heat of the sun, reminding me of the last swim I had taken in Portland. If I swam here and got myself in trouble again, there would be no one around to save me – but there was no risk this time. I knew the currents and the ways of this cove too well.

  Climbing over a small stile I joined the main path to the beach, which had remained a mix of pebbles and sand. Why I thought this would have changed I don’t know but I found myself looking for differences everywhere and finding none. Falmouth had altered in many obvious ways, but here life had continued virtually the same. I looked up to the field behind when I heard a noise and saw a woman adjusting the collar on a plough horse. She saw me and waved. I didn’t know her. She must be one of the girls from the Women’s Land Army, doing farm work while the men were away at war. That was one thing that was definitely different.

  VJ Day. Japan had surrendered. The war was truly over, and everything had changed as Mother had said – just not as I had expected.

  As I reached the beach, I dropped my things below the cliff face and scrambled over a few large rocks to avoid the wire. It wasn’t going to keep me from the sea, not on a day that was meant for swimming and laughter. I knew I wouldn’t have the latter so the former would have to do. This place held so many happy memories including my first kiss with Philip. So much goodness and promise lost.

  Reaching the finer sand by the water’s edge, I winced as the soft skin of my feet felt the edge of each shell. In past summers my soles were tough from barefoot days of freedom, but now they were delicate. I tiptoed into the water, gasping at the temperature, but with a shallow dive I was in and soon clear of the shore in the middle of the cove. My eyes stung from the salt but I finally felt clean for the first time in days, which begged the question of why I had felt dirty. Was I tarnished by my father’s actions and the deceit he expected me to maintain? Yes. Listening to Mother wittering on about how wonderful it would be when Father returned had been awful. I’d had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from shouting at her, from telling her to stop lying to herself and to us.

  Treading water, I looked back towards Windward. It appeared solid, peaceful and like it had been there forever. From here I couldn’t see the lawn filled with cauliflowers or that the windows weren’t as sparkling as they had been in the past when full-time help had been on hand. The future for Windward was unclear – but while I still cared what happened to the house, I was going away. They would all be fine without me. Amelia could marry Angus if she was lucky and Mother and Grandmother would muddle through. God knew what Father would do. Aunt Margaret would thrive. She had money, she had connections and she was beautiful.

  The icy freshness of the water had cleared my head, but sadness still surrounded me. I felt a stab of sorrow every time I looked at the sights I loved, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to bring Bobby back here, to swim and truly enjoy Cornwall. I was sure we would find other places to enjoy together. But I would not come back to Windward. Each stroke I took confirmed this thought and opened the crack in my heart a bit wider. I was resolved, though, and after a few more laps I came ashore – where I found Amelia sitting by my towel and clothes.

  Dripping, I stared at her. I had come to the beach for space, especially from her.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she said, and wrung her hands.

  I picked up the towel and began to briskly dry myself. ‘No.’

  ‘You won’t even try.’

  ‘You …’ I wrapped myself in the towel. ‘You and Bobby.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then what is there to understand?’

  ‘I was drunk.’ She looked at me with huge eyes, pleading.

  ‘So?’ I slipped my costume off.

  ‘It’s not an excuse.’ She stood. ‘I didn’t plan to get drunk. It just happened.’

  I pulled my knickers and shorts on, then tied my belt too tightly. ‘I know.’

  ‘Eddie.’ Her eyes, my eyes, showed me the pain she was feeling. I knew, even understood it, but what about my pain? ‘A group of us had been celebrating and then the news of Eddie arrived through one of his friends, stumbling across us in Trafalgar Square.’ She dragged in a long breath. ‘My world went dark. I drank anything I could get my hands on, which was a lot. I lost my friends, I lost myself. I became consumed in the crowd.’

  Pulling my bra and shirt on, I could see it as if I had been there with her. Everyone celebrating around her, and Amelia standing alone, her world torn to shreds. Despite what she had done, I still felt for her. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’

  With the towel I rubbed the last of the water out of my hair. ‘Why?’

  She shrugged.

  I turned from her. She owed me answers.

  ‘I – I wasn’t thinking straight,’ she said at last.

  ‘No. You weren’t.’

  ‘I wanted to be loved.’

  ‘Or to take mine from me.’

  ‘No.’ She stepped towards me. ‘Never that.’

  ‘Liar.’ I twisted my hair and secured it with a clip.

  ‘No, I – I didn’t think.’

  ‘You never do.’

  I turned away from her and walked back up the hill, leaving Amelia behind. She had known what she was doing, no matter what she said. She knew she couldn’t hide those thoughts from me.

  24 September 2015

&nb
sp; Jack paced the floor at the end of my bed. His hair was wet and in disarray. He would stop for a moment, look at me and then continue wearing out the carpet. How could I make this easier for him? Was Peta right? ‘Are you trying to make me sea sick?’

  ‘Sorry.’ He turned and sat on the bottom of the bed. ‘I want …’

  ‘Yes, what do you want?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘You need to live.’ I bit my tongue. He didn’t need a lecture from me. Peta was right. I needed to hold on and play a game so that he learned how to let someone into his life again. Lara. Bobby’s great-grandchild. Bobby had opened my heart and she was the key to Jack’s. No matter what it cost me, I had to help Jack save himself. He needed to see that love didn’t lead to death. Yes, his father hadn’t coped but it wasn’t always that way. We hadn’t spoken of it and maybe some things needed to be spoken about.

  ‘Jack?’

  He looked up.

  ‘Is Lara here?’ My voice croaked.

  He frowned.

  ‘After I get some more rest, I would like to see her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He stood, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

  ‘Yes, yes, I am.’ I closed my eyes and prayed as I hadn’t in years that this was the right thing to do. That revealing the past would heal the present, or at least open a door for him. I would never be able to make him walk through it but I could give a little push. Or would my interference simply ruin more lives?

  15 August 1945 – VJ Day

  The walls and ceiling of my room closed in on me. Pulling out my suitcase, I began to pack. My uniform and Bobby’s letters were the key to holding me together. They would keep me sane. The people in Windward would not. I flung the rest of my things including my teddy bear into the case and closed it. There was one other item I wanted. Grandmother’s wedding veil. I knew where it was. I planned never to return and that was the one thing I would take with me.

  I crept out of my room with my suitcase and climbed into the attic. Each creak of the floorboards threatened to give me away. In the darkness I found the old chest. Slowly, trying not to disturb the dust or anything else, I raised the lid and lifted up the veil, which was wrapped so carefully in tissue. Abruptly I sneezed – in my surprise I let go of the lid, and it came crashing down. I held my breath, waiting for the sound of footsteps – I was certain someone must have heard that – but thankfully, none came.

  Once I’d packed the veil, I went back down the stairs, taking each step carefully. If I left now I would get to Falmouth in time to make a train that would connect somewhere. I really didn’t care where I went, as long as it wasn’t here.

  Reaching the landing on tiptoes so as not to make a sound, I looked up and found Grandmother standing there, watching me.

  ‘I wondered when you’d leave.’ She rested heavily on her cane.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I knew you’d go.’

  I could hardly deny that was what I was doing, thanks to the suitcase in my hand.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ she said. ‘Your father will be here soon and I imagine it could be unpleasant.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course it doesn’t have to be if your parents can both be reasonable.’

  I raised my eyebrows. Was my grandmother saying what I thought she was? ‘You know?’

  ‘Of course I do. Are you shocked? Well, you shouldn’t be. My father had a mistress. My mother was relieved when it happened.’

  I collapsed against the wall.

  ‘She’d done her bit, produced the required heirs and was much more interested in her garden than him. She was quite happy for him to trouble someone else for sex while she kept the house, the title and the money.’

  I swallowed.

  ‘Yes, it would be best for you to leave.’ She sighed. ‘Especially as I suspect your sister is about to announce she’s pregnant, and then we will have to ask who the father is, considering her fiancé had not been on English soil for months before he died.’

  I felt the colour drain from my face.

  ‘Know who it is, do you?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s a good thing you have enough sense to not behave in the same manner.’ She focused on me as if she was trying to see inside. ‘Off you go.’

  My hands were shaking. Amelia was pregnant, my grandmother was right. That was what I had been sensing but had been unable to place because I didn’t understand. She was pregnant with Bobby’s child. The bag fell from my grasp and I heard my father’s voice downstairs.

  ‘What? Have you changed your mind and decided to stay for the fireworks? It’s one thing for your father to behave badly but another for your sister.’ My grandmother was half muttering to herself as she moved past me and went down the stairs. ‘Men always have it easier.’

  I knew I needed to speak to Amelia, but my feet were rooted to the spot as I heard another voice downstairs – Bobby’s. Dear God. Why was he here now? Had Amelia contacted him? No, she wouldn’t have. He must have received my letter and come straight away.

  Amelia opened her bedroom door and looked at me. She’d been crying. Despite my own feelings, I wanted to hold her and tell her it would be all right. But I knew it wouldn’t be. There was no possible way that anything would ever be right again.

  Forty-Two

  Windward, Mawnan Smith, Falmouth, Cornwall

  24 September 2015

  Lara stood at the kitchen sink, looking in the mackerels’ eyes. She knew they would be best filleted – unless Jack was using them as bait, which would be a sin. She didn’t know if she was still welcome at Windward, despite what Peta had implied, but she figured doing a little prep work before she left couldn’t make things worse. She dampened a dishcloth and placed it on the counter top before putting a white cutting board down. Jack’s kitchen really was properly equipped – she quickly found a flexible filleting knife and set to work, pondering as she did so the possibility of staying in the area and having a restaurant of her own. The setting was stunning and she could specialise in seasonal and local produce. The region was surrounded by some of the best fishing waters in the world and it was a short trip from field to plate.

  ‘Lara.’

  Startled, she swung around with the knife in her hand, then quickly lowered it while her heart raced.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jack, putting his hands up. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  ‘No problem. I had no plans to kill you either.’

  ‘Pleased to hear it.’ He stepped closer and she saw that his eyes weren’t quite so shuttered now. ‘You’ve done all the work for me, I see.’

  ‘Well, they were there.’ She shrugged, trying to discern if he was still cross.

  ‘What was your plan for them?’

  ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I was waiting to discover yours.’

  ‘I didn’t really have one.’ He came to her side and picked up one of the fillets. ‘I usually just gut them and then put them on the barbecue.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She ran a finger across the sleek skin. ‘I find the fillets cook better and it makes them easier to eat and enjoy without the bones.’

  ‘You are right.’ He put the fillet down. ‘I have a lot to learn.’ Putting on an apron, he cocked his head to one side. ‘Where do we begin?’

  15 August 1945 – VJ Day

  Bobby traced each of my fingers with his own, sending shivers through my body to places I was trying to ignore, telling myself they were no longer useful. He’d changed my world by holding my hand and opening my heart. We had come to my hiding spot, the small hollow in the cliff halfway down the path to the cove, and there we sat in silence. I was fighting the urge to flee with him there and then, to keep him from learning the truth of what had happened. The desire was so powerful, but I couldn’t do it – it wouldn’t be fair.

  I could still see the look on his face as he watched Amelia and me walk down the stairs side by side a few hours ago. He hadn’t known which was which and that had broken my heart all over again.

  I had
always wanted to find someone who knew me, really knew me, and I thought Bobby had. But when faced with both of us, he couldn’t see which one was me.

  And now I had to save my sister. She had few choices but I knew only one of them would work for Bobby. The only one for me would be if we fled. But I would have to lie to him and never be in touch with my family again. He would be suspicious and the lie would be between us, always pushing us apart.

  Without saying a word, my twin had asked me for help. She didn’t know what to do or where to turn. What could I do? Screaming what about me? wouldn’t help any of us. Her fate was in my hands, as was that of Bobby. Did I just break his heart and tell him that I didn’t love him any more after what he had done with Amelia? Would he know it was a lie? Yet his heart would still be broken when I told him that my sister was carrying his child. Of course, I knew it was his. Once Amelia had given her heart to Eddie, she hadn’t looked at another man until she’d seen mine.

  The fir tree above us dropped a few pine needles, and as they fell onto my hand their spikes lightly pricked my skin. He brushed the needles away, sending the warm aroma into the air around us. I leaned my head against him. The last time we’d sat here the sky was black and his breath tasted of whisky. Now it smelt of peppermint and I knew that whatever kisses we shared here would be our last. I swallowed.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ His deep voice went straight through me.

  ‘I know.’

  He turned my face to his. ‘I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You mean everything to me.’ His lips touched mine almost as if he was asking my permission. Closing my eyes, I kissed him back with all the love inside me. The hunger in both of us brought tears to my eyes. Bobby pulled away and looked closely at me as if he was trying to see a difference that wasn’t there. Amelia and I were too alike physically. It was only on the inside that we were different.