by Jill Mansell
‘Only if you’re sure,’ said Clemency.
‘OK, let’s get on to the next stage. My parents didn’t trust me an inch after that. And I put up with the way they treated me because I felt as if I deserved to be punished. Then a year or so later, my father set me up with a work colleague, someone he’d decided would be the right kind of chap to take me off their hands. So I met him, and guess who it turned out to be?’
‘George?’
‘George.’ Marina nodded in agreement. ‘I know. Lucky, lucky me. He had a problem with my name, because he’d had a peculiar cousin called Mary. That’s why he decided we should change it to Marina.’
‘And you married him because your father told you to?’
‘Believe me, I know how that sounds. I’m not proud of it. But I blamed myself for what had happened, and for making my mother’s life miserable. If marrying George went some way towards making up for the other stuff … well, maybe it was what I should do.’ Marina shrugged. ‘So I did.’
‘Wow,’ said Clemency.
‘I also thought if I had another baby it might take my mind off Billy.’ Marina shook her head. ‘Except that didn’t happen.’
‘Must have been hard.’
‘I thought it was my punishment for having given Billy away. I felt as if I didn’t deserve another baby.’
‘Oh Marina, that’s so sad. If anything, you deserved it more. And did George know about … what happened before?’
‘He knew I’d had a baby adopted. I told him just before the wedding; it seemed only fair. But that was all, no details.’ Marina recalled the evening she’d confided in George; she’d been torn between disappointment and relief when he’d shown no interest whatsoever in either Billy or Ellis and what they’d been like. But he’d been kind to her that night, had given her a hug and told her not to worry, he’d still marry her.
And to think she’d actually been grateful.
God, imagine. Back then, her only experience of marriage had been based on the relationship between her own parents; anything happier shown in movies or on TV had always been roundly derided by her father as fantasy and piffle.
‘So anyway,’ she continued, ‘we got married and stayed married. The years went by. Obviously I never forgot Billy, but I kept telling myself I’d done the right thing and he was living a wonderful life. Before his eighteenth birthday came around, I added my name to the adoption contact register, so that if he were to get in touch with them, they’d be able to tell him straight away that I’d be happy to hear from him. Happy,’ she said wryly, ‘doesn’t begin to describe it. It was what I longed for more than anything in the world. And once he’d turned eighteen, not a day passed when I didn’t wonder if it might happen. Every time the phone rang, each time the post came rattling through the letter box … I just couldn’t help thinking, Is this it?’
She paused and took another swallow of the tepid coffee.
‘Except it never was,’ said Clemency quietly.
‘It never was. A year went by, then two years, then a couple more. And all I was able to do was tell myself it could still happen. It just meant I had to be patient and wait a bit longer. As long as it took for Billy to decide he wanted to get in touch.’
Marina stopped, breathed out slowly. ‘Until I got ill and realised I may not have as long as it might take.’
Clemency said, ‘I just can’t imagine.’
‘I couldn’t handle the idea that I might die without seeing my boy again. It was just unbearable. I know it was selfish, but the thought of never getting to meet him tore me to pieces.’ Marina looked down and realised she’d been twisting the end of her dressing gown tie around her fingers. ‘And then George buggered off, of course, but compared with the Billy issue, that hardly seemed to matter. The first thing I had to do was get through the treatment. Then I promised myself I’d do whatever it took … anything at all, to find Billy again.’
‘I still can’t work out how you did it,’ said Clemency. ‘I mean, I’m no expert, but I know the adoption people don’t go giving that kind of information out willy-nilly, especially not to the biological parents.’
‘You’re right, they don’t. I begged them to help me. They were sympathetic,’ Marina explained, ‘but legally there was nothing they could do. So in the end I did it illegally instead.’
Clemency’s eyes widened. ‘You? How on earth did you manage that?’
Marina half smiled, remembering how she’d embarked on her search.
‘Well I knew I couldn’t do it myself, so I started making appointments with all the private detectives I could find in the north of England. I visited each company in turn and pleaded with them to help me. Except they all refused, which was annoying. Private detectives, it turns out, have far more scruples than you’d think. In the end, though, I struck lucky. I told this one guy my story and broke down in tears. Well, it turned out his sister had died before she had a chance to meet the daughter she’d given up for adoption. And he could see how desperate I was. He was lovely, actually. A retired police officer. I promised him that I’d never tell Billy who I was. All I wanted was to see him, to watch him from a distance and know he was all right.’
‘And he found Ronan for you,’ said Clemency.
‘He did. Within a week. It was incredible. Well,’ Marina went on ruefully, ‘it was illegal too. He’d broken all the rules. That’s what I feel guilty about now. I didn’t feel guilty back then, of course. It was everything I’d ever wanted, all my dreams come true. He gave me Billy’s name, told me where he worked. Three days later I came down to St Carys, walked into the estate agency … and there he was. It was the best moment of my life.’
‘And you were able to control yourself,’ Clemency marvelled. There were tears in her eyes now.
‘I was. I knew I had to.’ Marina nodded; that knowledge had made keeping control surprisingly easy. ‘I felt as if I’d mentally pressed the record button, so I could go through it again in my own time and get emotional then. But while it was happening, I just acted normally and pretended to be interested in buying a property. I told Ronan I’d spent lots of happy summer holidays in St Carys as a child and now I was thinking of moving down here to live. And he was so helpful and charming … oh, he was everything you could ask for. Perfect in every way. My boy.’ Marina’s eyes were shining. ‘My wonderful, beautiful boy.’
Clemency had cottoned on. ‘So the story about the childhood holidays wasn’t true.’
‘It wasn’t. That was my first visit to St Carys. But not my last.’ Drily, Marina said, ‘It was like taking some fantastic drug for the first time. Turned out I couldn’t give it up. Moving down here seemed like the answer to everything. I’d be getting away from my old life in Cheshire and I’d be able to keep on seeing Ronan. So that’s it.’ She smiled. ‘You know the rest. I bought this cottage and built myself a brand-new life, did my best to make myself useful … and these last few years have been so happy. Seriously, you can’t imagine how wonderful they’ve been. I feel guilty because I did a bad thing and bribed that man to find my boy for me, but I’ll never regret it. And I’ll always keep my word,’ she reiterated. ‘Ronan will never ever find out the truth from me.’
‘Well I think you’re incredible,’ said Clemency. ‘He’s very lucky. Even if he doesn’t know it.’
‘I’m the lucky one.’ Marina spoke with feeling.
‘Oh, but imagine if you’d bought the cottage and Ronan had been offered a job in, I don’t know, Edinburgh. What if you’d moved down here and he’d left Cornwall?’
‘There was always that possibility. It was a risk I had to take. I knew I only had this one shot,’ Marina agreed. ‘It wasn’t as if I could suddenly pop up in the next place he was living and say, “Ooh, what a coincidence, me again!”’ She shook her head. ‘It could still happen. If it does, at least I’ll have had five years of knowing him. It’s five years more than I might have been given. Every day’s a bonus.’
‘Oh Marina.’ Jumping up and c
oming over to the sofa, Clemency enveloped her in a long hug. ‘And today you saved his life. How completely amazing is that?’
‘I didn’t. If I hadn’t been there, someone else would have got to him. Darling, you mustn’t tell him.’ Marina wondered how many more times she’d feel compelled to say this.
‘Don’t worry, you can trust me. I won’t breathe a word.’ Drawing back, Clemency looked her steadily in the eye. ‘But can I just say something? If Ronan did know the truth, I think he’d be so happy. I mean it,’ she added. ‘Really. If he ever did find out, I bet he’d be thrilled.’
Chapter 19
It was Monday 15 June and Belle was turning over a new leaf.
She didn’t even know why. It was one of those weird scenarios where you realised you were startling yourself.
She’d certainly startled Sam, who’d been working away on his laptop in the kitchen when she’d appeared in the doorway at 6.45 in the morning, wearing a black sports vest and Lycra leggings, and extremely white trainers.
He uncrossed his outstretched legs, resting on the stool opposite. ‘You’re up.’
‘I know.’ Belle tried to sound casual, as if it weren’t that extraordinary. ‘It’s a nice morning, so I thought I’d go for a run.’
Sam surveyed her outfit. ‘I had no idea you even owned any running clothes.’
She hadn’t owned any; she’d ordered them online the other day, but he didn’t need to know that. She gave him a kiss. ‘Ah well, there you go,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m full of surprises!’
It was only a bit of exercise, after all. How hard could it be?
Twenty minutes later, having made her way across to Mariscombe Bay, on the other side of St Carys, Belle saw the group gathering on the beach not far from the surf shop. Amazingly, there were about twenty of them, greeting each other and apparently looking forward to their early morning exercise.
And there was the girl, Verity, setting up a music system and chatting with various members of the class. She was wearing a sunflower-yellow top and stripy yellow and white knee-length Lycra shorts, and Belle wondered suddenly if she should leave. What if Verity recognised her and told her she wasn’t welcome? How embarrassing would that be, in front of everyone? Oh God, why had she come here when she could be back at the flat right now, lying in Sam’s rumpled king-sized bed?
She was still dithering as Verity pressed a button and dance music spilt out of the speakers. Everyone else was facing the instructor now, preparing to warm up their muscles and get started.
Belle was edging slowly backwards away from the group when Verity looked over and called out, ‘Morning! Are you joining us?’
‘Um … I don’t think so.’
‘Oh come on, it’s only thirty minutes out of your life!’
The fact that Verity was being so nice had to mean she hadn’t recognised her yet. Belle patted her non-existent pockets. ‘I just came out for a run. I don’t have my purse. No money …’
‘Well that’s OK, because you don’t need to pay me. There’s no charge,’ Verity said cheerfully. ‘I do this for love, not money. Out of the sheer goodness of my heart.’
And Belle found herself being beckoned over to join the rest of the group. Oh well, like she’d said, it was only thirty minutes.
Couldn’t hurt.
Thirty minutes later, Belle knew better. It could hurt and it did hurt. The rest of the class might look like normal people, but they had to be Olympic athletes in disguise. And now they were preparing to leave, chattering happily and looking as if they’d done nothing more to exert themselves than stand in a supermarket checkout queue.
Belle was still gulping air into her shell-shocked lungs, feeling light-headed with exhaustion and wondering if her muscles would ever stop screaming in pain. Her face was flushed, her hair was sticking to her scalp and her little plastic water bottle was empty.
‘Hey, well done.’ Verity appeared before her, pulling an unopened bottle out of her holdall. She handed it to Belle. ‘You need to keep yourself hydrated. Have you ever done an aerobics class before?’
‘No, I haven’t. It was harder than I thought.’ Untwisting the lid, Belle gulped down the chilled water and was embarrassed – but not embarrassed enough to stop – when some of it dribbled down her chin.
‘Your muscles will ache tomorrow.’ Verity smiled sympathetically. ‘And the next day.’
Belle stopped drinking and looked at her. ‘Do you remember me?’
‘Yes, I do. Over on the other beach. I ran straight into you.’
‘I wasn’t in the best mood that day,’ said Belle. ‘I was pretty rude to you. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh! Really, it’s fine. You had every right to be annoyed.’
‘But it was an accident. You didn’t do it on purpose. I kind of wanted a chance to, you know, apologise …’ Belle hesitated as the words stumbled out; making apologies had never been her forte.
‘Have you spent the last two weeks feeling a bit guilty about it?’ Verity’s eyes sparkled.
‘Well, yes, I suppose I have.’
‘That’s actually rather nice to know.’ She broke into a slow smile. ‘So now it’s all done. We’ve apologised to each other.’
‘Yes.’ Belle was glad she’d done it now; it was a relief to have it out of the way.
‘And you’re Clemency’s stepsister.’
Erk. ‘I am. Have you talked to her about me?’
‘No.’ A flicker of mischief. ‘Why, what would she have said about you if I had?’
‘God, I dread to think.’
‘Ah well, that’s sisters for you. Mine’s two years younger than me and she drives me nuts.’ Verity brushed away a hovering insect. ‘Actually, I asked my aunt about you.’
‘Oh, right.’ Belle nodded vaguely and wondered if Verity’s aunt had forgotten about the time she and Giles had come into the newsagent’s. Giles had made fun of one of the other customers, an elderly local lady who’d been chatting away to Meryl about the time she’d almost got four numbers on the Lotto. He’d stood behind the old woman and mimicked her, and Belle had burst out laughing because it had seemed funny at the time. Meryl had given them both an icy glare, and when the old lady had shuffled out and Giles had finished paying for his cigarettes, she had proceeded to tear a strip off him for being so rude. By way of retaliation, Giles had shoplifted a copy of Take a Break on the way out, then stuffed it into a bin at the end of the street. He’d said it served Meryl right for being a stroppy cow.
Belle had taken care to avoid the shop ever since.
God, Giles had been such a prize dick.
‘So will we be seeing you here again, d’you think?’ Verity indicated the beach and the music system.
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ All the unfamiliar footwork involved in the step routines had been difficult to keep up with. Belle, who hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of not being competent, said, ‘I prefer running.’ It wasn’t true, of course, but at least putting one foot in front of the other was pretty foolproof.
‘Well if you ever fancy joining me, feel free.’ Verity flashed her white smile. ‘I can always do with a running mate. You can shout out warnings to people if I’m about to crash into them.’
Belle said, ‘I might just do that.’
You never knew, maybe she was about to turn into a fitness fiend after all.
Sam would be impressed.
‘You’ve been for a what?’ Clemency boggled. Surely she’d misheard.
‘A run along the beach.’ Belle was acting as if it were a completely normal thing for her to have done. ‘Nothing extreme. Just a couple of kilometres. Maybe three.’
‘Crikey, this is new.’ Clemency, who jogged a couple of times a week, was impressed. ‘Do you do it in high heels?’
‘I wear proper running clothes. I’m enjoying it.’
‘You’re walking a bit funny.’
‘That’s because I did an aerobics class on Monday and overdid it. My leg muscles are still getting used to all
the activity.’
‘Wait, an aerobics class? You mean the one on Mariscombe Beach?’
This time Belle had the grace to flush. ‘Yes.’
‘The one you thought sounded so awful and completely naff? Like something out of Hi-de-Hi!?’
‘OK, I changed my mind and went along. And yes, you’re allowed to look smug. It was pretty good,’ Belle admitted.
‘So you’ve forgiven Verity for knocking you over? Well well. What’s all this about then, the sudden passion for exercise?’
Belle said airily, ‘No reason. I just thought I’d give it a go, get myself a bit healthier.’
Clemency briefly debated whether to carry on with the teasing. Clearly Belle was doing it to impress Sam but would rather die than admit as much.
Instead she said, ‘Remember when you went out with that polo player a couple of years back?’
‘Francisco? Of course I remember. What about him?’
‘Oh, nothing. I just remembered you buying that pair of white jodhpurs.’ Clemency looked innocent. ‘Wondered if you still had them.’
Belle narrowed her eyes. ‘No, I don’t. And if you were wanting to borrow them, they wouldn’t have fitted you anyway. They were a size eight.’
Ha, miaow. Also, bingo. Clemency was now pretty certain Sam had made some kind of comment about Belle’s aversion to exercise. She hugged this snippet of knowledge to herself and heroically didn’t utter another word on the subject. They were going out together for dinner, after all; it wouldn’t do to have a sister-spat.
And here was Ronan coming to join them now, late because he’d had to drive back from a viewing in Falmouth before stopping off at home to shower and change. Five days on from the incident with the jet ski, he was completely recovered. His X-rays at the hospital had been clear, the scalp injury that had resulted in so much blood being spilt had been repaired with five neat stitches, and the very next morning he’d been back at work. Which was good.
Clemency broke into a smile at the sight of him, because he was wearing the blue shirt she’d told him he should buy when he’d been so set on getting the orange one.
