Meet Me at Beachcomber Bay

by Jill Mansell

  She cleaned up as best she could, all the while watching as Josephine got closer, her long crimson dress billowing behind her in the sea breeze.

  And then she was there. The interminable waiting was over. Marina had made no plans what to say, but in the event it became apparent that no words were necessary. Josephine stood in front of her and opened her arms, and Marina went into them.

  Goodness knows what Paddy and Dee and all the other customers were thinking.

  When the long embrace ended, they held hands and smiled at each other.

  ‘Thank you for my son,’ Josephine said simply.

  ‘Thank you for being such a fantastic mum to him,’ replied Marina. ‘It’s made me so happy to know he had you.’

  When Ronan and Clemency turned up at 5.30, they found them still there, sitting together, having spent the last ninety minutes talking non-stop.

  ‘I got here far too early,’ Josephine explained. ‘I just couldn’t wait.’

  ‘And it’s been so lovely.’ Marina’s stomach was fizzing with the kind of excitement you only felt when absolutely everything was OK. ‘I apologised for breaking the rules and finding you, and—’

  ‘I told her I’d have done exactly the same,’ Josephine chimed in. She shrugged. ‘Think about it; under those circumstances? No question. Anyone would.’

  Then they were all hugging each other, and when it was Marina’s turn to embrace Clemency, she said, ‘This all happened because of you. Thank you.’

  ‘Me and my big mouth. Well, I’m so glad it worked out,’ Clemency said fondly. ‘It’s about time you had good things happen to you. And how brilliant that you’re OK too.’

  Marina nodded; this was something else that was down to Clemency, who had carried on nagging her until she’d made an appointment and gone along to the local surgery. Her GP had swiftly referred her to the consultant, who had arranged for a needle biopsy to be carried out. Aware of her anxiety, he had phoned Marina yesterday as soon as the results arrived back from the lab. There was no sign of malignancy; the lump had been confirmed as a harmless cyst.

  Marina, who’d been looking after the twins across the street, had taken the call then excused herself, locking herself in the bathroom for a couple of minutes in order to be able to burst into tears of relief. This was it; the fear was behind her now. The cancer hadn’t recurred. She had her life back, and her beloved son too. This beat winning the Lotto any day of the week.

  Moments later, as she’d been wiping her eyes and attempting to get herself back under control, there’d been a thunderous hammering of tiny hands on the other side of the door.

  ‘Get out of the bathroom,’ bellowed three-year-old Ben. ‘Quick, hurry up! I need to do a POO.’

  Chapter 31

  The four of them finally left the café and headed up the hill in search of food. Tomorrow night, Josephine was insisting, they must come over to Newquay and eat in her restaurant; she wanted to cook for them all and introduce Marina to her long-serving staff. But this evening, here in St Carys, they were going to enjoy pasta and pizzas at the cheap and cheerful Italian on the Esplanade.

  As they approached La Pulcinella, a group who’d eaten earlier were just leaving. A dozen or so of them were milling around on the pavement outside the restaurant, saying their goodbyes. Several were wearing party hats set at jaunty angles.

  ‘Look who’s here! Hey, Kate!’ Clemency waved, and Marina saw that Kate was busy unfastening the padlock that secured her bike to the ornate railings. Hearing her name, she straightened up and spotted Clemency, then Ronan.

  ‘Oh, hello! I was going to tell you the news tomorrow. Guess what?’ Kate was pink-cheeked. ‘I had a call from the police this evening, to let me know they’ve caught our burglar.’

  Ronan spread his hands in delight. ‘Really? That’s brilliant.’

  ‘They tracked him down to a caravan site in Dorset, would you believe? And now he’s under arrest. I’m so happy.’ She grinned at them both, but Marina noticed that her attention was on Ronan. ‘They phoned me while we were here in the restaurant, celebrating Julian’s birthday. Everyone cheered when I told them. I’m thrilled!’

  ‘Welcome to the club. We’re celebrating too.’ Clearly unable to help himself, Ronan drew Josephine closer. ‘Have you met my mum before? Mum, this is Kate, the burglar-catcher I told you about. Kate, this is my mum, Josephine.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Kate with a shy smile, and Marina saw her cheeks flush once more.

  Then Ronan reached for Marina’s hand, pulling her forward to join them. ‘And this is Marina.’

  ‘I know Marina.’ Kate’s smile broadened. ‘I deliver her post.’

  ‘Marina’s my biological mother,’ said Ronan.

  Kate blinked. ‘What?’

  Standing between them, he beamed with pride. ‘I know, isn’t it great?’

  Two hours later, after a noisy, convivial dinner together, Josephine voiced the question each of the rest of them had thought but not said aloud.

  She rested her hand on Ronan’s arm. ‘So if there’s a way of tracking down your biological father, would you be interested in meeting him?’

  Ronan looked at her. ‘Would you mind? Would it bother you at all?’

  ‘No, sweetheart, it’s fine.’ Josephine’s dark eyes were luminous in the flickering candlelight. ‘And I know your dad wouldn’t have minded either.’

  Ronan patted the small, capable hand that was clutching his arm, then turned to Marina. ‘How about you? How would you feel about it?’

  She had told him the story, obviously, but full names hadn’t been mentioned. Touched by his concern, she said, ‘If it’s what you want, it’s fine by me too. We’ll do our best to make it happen.’

  ‘I’d like to give it a go, if you’re both sure you’re all right with the idea.’ His mouth curved up at the corners. ‘Seeing as everything’s worked out pretty well so far.’

  Josephine exclaimed, ‘In that case, let’s do it!’

  ‘Try, at least.’ Ronan was exercising caution. ‘He might be dead. He might live in Australia. He might not want to meet me.’

  ‘He isn’t dead,’ said Marina. ‘And he doesn’t live in Australia.’

  They all looked at her and she responded with a shrug. ‘What? Do you think I’m immune from curiosity? I looked him up on the internet years ago.’

  ‘Have you spoken to him?’ Clemency’s eyes were huge.

  ‘No, no, absolutely not.’ Marina shook her head hastily. ‘Not for thirty-two years. And we don’t know if he ever saw my letter to him. He might not remember a thing about me. Which means all of this could come as a shock.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Ronan. ‘I know. If he doesn’t want anything to do with me, I can handle that.’

  ‘But he might,’ said Josephine. ‘We won’t know until we try. You did tell us he was handsome when he was young.’ She gave Marina a teasing look. ‘And you were crazy about each other back then. Who knows, you might see him again and boom, all the old feelings could come rushing back!’

  ‘Oh yes, this is fantastic.’ Getting carried away, Clemency clapped a hand to her chest. ‘Anything could happen!’ she said delightedly.

  Marina picked up her glass and took a glug of wine, feeling suddenly thirty-two years younger. It was hugely embarrassing and she wouldn’t have admitted it to a living soul, but this was something that had crossed her mind too. Of course it had, even if the chances were that he was married.

  We’re all allowed to fantasise, aren’t we?

  ‘Come on then, let’s look him up now.’ Clemency had already cleared a space on the table and pulled her iPad out of her bag with a flourish. ‘Name?’

  ‘Ellis Ramsay. Doctor.’

  ‘Dr Ellis Ramsay,’ said Clemency as she tapped it into Google. Around the table, only Marina didn’t lean in for a closer look. There was no need; she already knew the results off by heart.

  There was only one Dr Ellis Ramsay in the UK.

  ‘He’s a GP at a prim
ary care centre in Swindon.’ Clemency hovered an index finger over the link that said ‘Meet the Team’ and checked with Ronan. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Go ahead.’ He nodded and she clicked the link. A grid of eight smiling faces popped up and all eyes instantly zoned in on the one they were here to see.

  Some of the smiles were stiff and forced; others were natural. Dr Ellis Ramsay’s was somewhere in between. Marina had always thought he looked as if he wanted to smile more broadly but felt he should be reining it in for propriety’s sake. She sat back and watched as her son closely studied the features of the father he was seeing for the first time.

  ‘Wow. I do look like him.’ Ronan nodded with delighted recognition.

  ‘I told you.’ Marina was touched by his response. ‘You’re an inch or two taller than he was, but otherwise you take after him so much.’

  Clemency looked at her. ‘That’s how you were able to move to St Carys without anyone suspecting a thing. Ronan doesn’t look like you at all.’

  ‘Well?’ Josephine’s voice was soft. ‘How does it feel?’

  ‘Weird. But interesting. I’d like to speak to him. Well, that’s if he wants to speak to me.’ Ronan tilted his head briefly so it was touching hers. ‘But he’ll never take Dad’s place. You do know that, don’t you? The two of you were the ones who brought me up.’

  Josephine stroked his cheek. ‘It’s OK. I know.’

  ‘And we’ll need to be careful. If he’s got a wife and family, he’ll have them to consider as well.’

  ‘He might have them,’ Clemency looked up, ‘but he doesn’t live with them.’

  Marina stared. ‘How on earth do you know that?’

  Clemency tilted the screen in her direction. ‘Just checked 192.com … there, see? This is where he lives, and there’s no one else registered on the electoral roll at that address.’

  ‘Good heavens.’ Marina marvelled at the things the internet could divulge in a nanosecond.

  Josephine looked at her and said, ‘You should call the surgery, leave your number with the receptionist and ask him to phone you back.’

  The little hairs on the back of Marina’s neck quivered at the thought of hearing Ellis’s voice again, then having to explain to him why she was getting in touch.

  ‘Or write him a letter,’ Josephine added.

  Oh phew.

  ‘A letter would be easier.’ Marina nodded with relief. ‘Much easier. I’ll do that.’

  Ronan said, ‘Will you put in a good word for me? Say flattering things? Tell him I’m nice?’

  She smiled, because this was her beautiful boy, who meant the world to her and had made life worth living again. ‘Well, I might.’

  Chapter 32

  ‘The thing is, we’ve had a problem getting hold of these parts,’ said the photocopier repairman. ‘I’ll have to put in an order today and come back when we’ve got it.’

  ‘Right,’ said Clemency. ‘Well that’s OK. Thank goodness we don’t run a business that relies on us needing lots of photocopies of things.’

  The repairman shot her a suspicious look. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’

  ‘Yes.’ Clemency gathered up the sizeable pile of papers that had built up waiting for the broken copier to be fixed, and rolled her eyes at Paula. ‘Yes, I am. I’ll take this lot over to the post office. Wish me luck, I may be gone for some time.’

  Thirty minutes later, her misery was further compounded when she heard an old man behind her say in a strong local accent, ‘Orright, me bird, couldn’t let us jump in an’ make a quick copy o’ summat, could ’ee?’

  Clemency exhaled in frustration, then turned round and saw who was addressing her. The unexpected sight of him took her breath away.

  ‘Did I get you?’ said Sam.

  Oh, that face, those eyes.

  ‘You got me. You did that so well. I can’t believe I fell for it.’

  He looked amused. ‘What are you doing? Don’t tell me your fancy office copier’s broken down.’

  ‘And is going to be out of action for days. So I’m stuck with this geriatric one instead.’ Clemency gave the modest machine a pat as it slowly scanned the next page and, bit by bit, inched out the copy. ‘And yes, every few minutes someone does come up and ask if they could just do their own bit of copying because it looks like I’m going to be here for hours.’

  At that moment, a sheet of A4 somewhere inside the machine made an ominous crackling noise and the red error button began to flash.

  ‘And this is why I love my job,’ said Clemency.

  ‘Is this the queue?’ A tiny lady in her seventies was waving a small envelope. ‘Oh dear, not going to be long, are you? I’ve got a very bad hip, you know.’

  Sam swiftly opened up the top half of the machine, pulled out the crumpled sheet of paper and collected together the yet-to-be-copied pages before the tiny lady could send them flying with her pink crocheted shopping bag. He said, ‘It’s all yours,’ and moved out of the way, then beckoned to Clemency. ‘Come on, let’s go. I’ve got the car outside.’

  Within fifteen minutes they were back at his apartment. In the spare room that he’d turned into an office stood a brand-new printer-copier.

  ‘Not as fast as the one you have at work,’ he apologised.

  ‘But fifty times faster than that thing in the post office. And no queue-jumpers. Seriously, this is fantastic,’ said Clemency. ‘Thank you so much. You saved me from having a humiliating meltdown in a public place.’

  ‘Happy to help.’ He paused. ‘Actually, if I do help, we can be finished in twenty minutes. Then maybe we could sit down and have a chat.’

  ‘What kind of a chat?’

  ‘A private one,’ said Sam, and Clemency felt her stomach do a loop-the-loop that was part giddiness, part fear.

  ‘What about?’

  His mouth did that thing it did when he was being serious. ‘Look, we don’t get much chance to talk without other people being around. And I think we need to. There are things I need to know. Questions I want to ask, answers I’d like to hear. Honest answers …’

  ‘OK.’ Clemency nodded hurriedly, the loop-the-loop swirling into overdrive. ‘We’ll talk, that’s fine. But can we get this copying out of the way first?’

  For the next twenty-five minutes they worked as a super-efficient team, loading the pages and sorting the churned-out printed sheets into their various piles before stapling together the details for each of the properties on sale.

  Clemency felt as if she were holding her breath the whole time. Sam’s physical proximity was making her overheat; the scent of his aftershave was drilling its way into her subconscious. Fifty years from now, encountering it again would bring her right back to this moment in time. Just as she knew she would remember the angle of his jaw, the exact way he stood, the shape of his hands.

  Was he committing her details to memory in the same way? Or was he currently wondering what to have for dinner tonight or reminding himself to attend to various important business details?

  Finally the copying, the collating and the stapling was done. In the kitchen, Sam poured them each a glass of iced water and placed the tumblers on the marble-topped island. By unspoken agreement they sat on opposite sides, facing each other.

  ‘Right.’ He rested his hands, palms down, on the marble. ‘Am I allowed to speak now?’

  Clemency nodded. ‘Go for it.’ Hopefully she sounded more casual than she felt.

  ‘Are you wondering what I’m going to say?’

  ‘I’ve got a pretty good idea.’

  ‘Are you more wound up than you’re letting on?’

  Oh God, he knew. Of course he knows. Clemency picked up her glass of water. ‘Yes.’

  Sam smiled briefly. ‘Thought so. How are things with you and Ronan?’

  ‘Really good. Great.’ She’d guessed he was going to ask that.

  ‘You seem happy together.’

  ‘We are.’ And this time, thankfully, Sam seemed to believe her.

  ‘
OK.’ He nodded. ‘I need to ask you now, has Annabelle talked to you about me?’

  ‘Kind of. A bit. In what way?’

  ‘Has she discussed how she feels about me? I mean, is she … happy?’

  ‘As far as I know, she’s very happy. You’re her perfect man. I haven’t asked a lot of questions.’ Clemency shrugged to indicate that under the circumstances he could probably understand why she wouldn’t want to; it was agonising to even think of certain aspects of their relationship. ‘But from what Belle’s said, there are no complaints on her side. Everything’s great. She’s found the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. And congratulations, it’s you.’

  It almost broke her heart to say it, but Sam didn’t look overly delighted. He exhaled heavily. ‘Right.’

  ‘Meaning?’ Clemency prompted, and this time he drummed his fingers on the marble worktop before finally raising his gaze to her.

  ‘OK, well she’s probably not going to be thrilled then. But it’s not fair to keep this thing going. I need to tell her it’s over.’

  ‘Over?’ This gave her a jolt. ‘Really?’

  ‘It isn’t working out. At least not on my side.’ Sam spoke soberly. ‘I was kind of hoping it might be mutual.’

  ‘Well I don’t think it is. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be horrified. And upset. Oh God, and hasn’t she told you?’ Clemency winced at the realisation. ‘It’s her birthday in two weeks. You can’t do it before then.’

  ‘No?’ Sam’s face fell. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘So sure. That would be awful. Did she really not mention her birthday?’ Because that wasn’t Belle’s modus operandi at all; in her world, birthdays were the event of the year. She was more likely to hire a plane to trail a huge banner across the sky.

  ‘Well yes, she has talked about it.’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘But I thought maybe it’d be better to do it before then, so she could … you know, make a fresh start.’

  Clemency shook her head. ‘Trust me, it wouldn’t be a good move. It’s never the done thing to finish with your girlfriend just before her birthday. Especially when your girlfriend is Belle.’