A Summer at Sea

by Katie Fforde

  ‘And that’s why I want to go somewhere else!’

  ‘No,’ said Rebecca. ‘You have to see the otters, or at least go to the island. This is your farewell to Scotland. You have to do it properly.’

  ‘I don’t know why you begrudge your old friend a cup of tea,’ Emily said a little later, when she was feeling more rational about it.

  ‘I don’t. I just think we should do what we came to do and then see about tea afterwards.’

  ‘Oh, OK,’ said Emily. ‘That’s reasonable.’

  They were very nearly at the place to park the car when Rebecca looked at the dashboard and said suddenly, ‘Oh no! A warning light has just come on.’ She sounded worried.

  ‘What sort of warning light?’ said Emily. ‘Should we ring the AA?’

  ‘Probably not. It may not be that serious. Besides, I’m not a member.’ Rebecca swung the car a little way off the road. ‘Can you be a dear and see if it’s just a brake light that’s gone? Just get out and I’ll brake. Tell me if they’re both working. If it’s only that we don’t need to worry.’

  Emily got out and went to the back of the car. ‘OK! Brake now!’ she called.

  But Rebecca didn’t brake, she accelerated, and the car shot off leaving Emily standing there, her mouth open, in a state of shock. Had Rebecca pressed the wrong pedal? What the hell was going on?

  She was still staring in the direction that Rebecca had disappeared in, waiting to see her coming back towards her, when a dog boofed her in the stomach.

  She saw it was a red setter and just as she recognised it as Rupert, she saw Alasdair appearing from behind a little thicket.

  She stared at him, completely confused.

  ‘Sorry, did Rupes give you a fright?’ said Alasdair, walking towards her and catching the dog as he ran back to him.

  Emily didn’t reply. She felt as if she was in a weird dream and if she didn’t move or speak she’d wake up.

  Alasdair came over and smiled ruefully. ‘Actually my dog assaulting you is really the least of my sins. I have so much to apologise to you for I don’t know where to start.’

  Emily took a deep breath and realised it was a reality she’d have to deal with. She also had something to apologise for but wasn’t going to now. ‘I can’t help you, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’ll start with saying sorry about the dog. He was just pleased to see you and I wasn’t holding his lead properly.’

  ‘That’s OK. I can forgive Rupert anything.’

  Alasdair nodded. ‘I realise I might be quite a bit harder to forgive. Can we go to the boat? I apologise better when I’m on the move.’

  Emily shrugged. ‘I thought I was here to see the otters.’

  ‘You are and I’ve done my best to arrange them. Rebecca did too.’

  ‘I feel tricked and slightly stupid,’ said Emily. ‘Becca and I were coming here together and she abandoned me. She should have told me what was going on.’

  ‘Would you have come if she had?’

  ‘No.’ She knew this was true but she wasn’t absolutely sure she’d have been right to refuse.

  ‘Rebecca knew that. She wanted to bring us together and thought if I just came over you’d go out or something.’

  ‘I’ve been here for days. You could have got in touch in the normal way. I would have seen you.’ Then she frowned. Would she have seen him? No, not if she’d had any warning.

  He hooked his arm through hers. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

  As she walked, Emily tried to clarify her thoughts. She’d had Alasdair on her mind, almost every minute of every day, for weeks. Now she was next to him she felt slightly sick. Abandoned to him by Rebecca, she wanted to see him and she didn’t want to see him. She wanted to cry and a very small part of her was happy. She felt like a lava lamp, emotions rising and falling and refusing to settle.

  They reached the boat. ‘Get in?’ he suggested, still tentative. Rupert, hearing what he took to be a command, jumped in.

  Emily laughed softly. ‘Yes,’ she said, and when he’d half pushed it off, she clambered on and sat in the stern, remembering from last time.

  He swung a rucksack off his back into the boat and then gave it another shove before getting in and picking up the oars. He put his feet on the stretcher and started to pull on the oars.

  The calmness of the loch and the beauty of the mountains reflected in it had a calming effect. She was still muddled but relaxed enough to allow a little happiness to creep in. ‘Are we having a picnic?’

  ‘I very much hope so.’

  ‘I’d made really good sandwiches for the picnic I thought I was having,’ she said. ‘But we’d forgotten a flask and Becca doesn’t have a billy or anything.’

  ‘I’m afraid Becca didn’t bother with a flask because she knew I would give you tea.’

  ‘It’s really horrible being plotted about. I feel such a fool!’

  ‘My sweet, darling girl, you are anything but a fool and I’m terribly sorry I’ve made you feel one. Really, it was the very last thing me or Becca intended.’

  She looked at him properly. ‘What did you call me?’

  ‘“My sweet, darling girl”.’

  The words were enchanting but she couldn’t let herself believe he really meant them. He’d been so angry with her the last time she saw him, had accused her of putting her career before people who loved her, of letting his daughter down. And he knew she’d betrayed his trust in her. ‘But that’s not how you feel about me.’

  ‘I know you’ll find it hard to believe but it is. And I’ve felt it for a long time.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying this, you have a funny way of showing it.’

  He half smiled but didn’t reply. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and then continued to row with long slow strokes, moving the boat swiftly across the water.

  She watched him, seeing him perfectly at home with boat and oars. He was unconsciously graceful, every moment efficient. It was both joyous and heartbreaking to watch. A curlew whistled overhead, adding to the poignancy.

  ‘I never meant to fall in love again,’ he said. ‘I was determined that I would give Kate the most stable life possible. I wouldn’t bring a new woman into her life, who might let her down like the first one did.’

  ‘I understand that.’

  ‘But then I met you. Everything changed.’

  ‘You know that I would never, ever do anything to hurt Kate. I think your reasons for staying single are absolutely right.’ However much it hurt to say it, she did sincerely believe it.

  ‘But I was thinking about my wife, about the women who pursue me because I’m a doctor with an adorable daughter …’

  Emily suppressed a smile. It wasn’t only because he was a doctor and had Kate that made women pursue him.

  ‘I hadn’t met you then. You’re different. You seem to like Kate more than you do me.’

  ‘Oh, definitely! She’s very much easier to like.’ As her spirits lifted Emily began to feel more positive.

  ‘The way you played with her, properly played, getting muddy and cold and not caring – like a real friend.’

  ‘That’s what real friends do, though I’m not sure Becca and I would make dams together.’ She frowned. ‘Although some friend she turned out to be.’

  ‘You know she meant well. It may have gone a little wrong, but her intentions were good.’

  Emily shrugged. ‘The road to hell, paved with good intentions.’

  He smiled, his teeth flashing white. ‘I’m sure you’ve forgiven Becca, even if you haven’t forgiven me.’

  ‘I expect I have,’ she agreed. Then she became serious. ‘I couldn’t be a mother to Kate, you know that. I can be a very loving friend, who always looks out for her, but I can’t replace the woman who gave birth to her. If that’s what you want, I’m not the person.’

  ‘I don’t want a replacement mother, nor does she, but I feel – she feels – that our lives would be very much happier and more joyful if you were part of them.�
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  ‘Really? You asked her?’

  ‘Yes. I had to.’ He paused. ‘You know I have fought this so long. Ever since I picked you up in the car and drove you to the puffer, in almost total silence. I thought how lovely you were then and now I think you’re more than just lovely. And now I’ve stopped fighting my feelings it’s easier.’

  Emily didn’t speak. What he’d said was wonderful and should have filled her with joy and on one level it did. But she’d turned down her chance of working up here and she couldn’t just be a homemaker; she needed more: a career, or at least a proper job. And the job she had down south was a step up, even if currently it didn’t seem very rewarding. It gave her a real opportunity to make a difference.

  He glanced over this shoulder. ‘We’re here. We don’t have to talk any more. We can just have a picnic and look for otters.’ He smiled again and she felt no sunshine would ever equal the warmth of that smile. Like a ray of light in a deep dark forest, it lifted her heart.

  A few minutes later, he got out of the boat and lifted out his rucksack. ‘You stay sitting, I’ll pull the boat up a bit and then help you out.’

  Soon she was sitting on a rock, facing the beach where the otters had appeared before.

  ‘Now, I’ll just get the fire going, as I get the feeling that the tea is the most important part of lunch for you,’ he said. He opened his rucksack and took out newspaper and matches.

  ‘I’ll find firewood,’ said Emily, not content to sit and be a guest. She was losing the awkwardness she had felt when he’d first sprung out on her but she still wasn’t relaxed. There was too much to think about for one thing.

  When the fire was going well he came and sat beside her and put his arm round her, hugging her to him. It felt right, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle, slotting in together. Then he kissed her cheek and she blushed, feeling incredibly girlish. And then she began to feel like a woman and realised just how deep her feelings for him were. There would be a way round their problems. There had to be.

  A little later he handed her a sandwich. Brown bread, butter and smoked salmon. ‘I have to say, this is nicer than the sandwiches I made,’ she said when she’d taken a bite.

  He handed her a hip flask. ‘Have a drop of malt with that. I won’t join you so drink it all if you like.’

  She accepted the flask and the peaty strength of the whisky was bracing. It stilled the lava lamp of emotions somewhat. ‘I might almost accuse you of trying to get me drunk,’ she suggested.

  ‘I might be guilty of trying to soften you up a bit. I’ve declared my love for you …’ He paused. ‘Did I remember to tell you how much I love you? I’m not sure I did.’

  ‘You sort of did.’

  ‘I’m not sure “sort of” will cut it.’

  ‘No.’ The trouble was, she needed him to say more, to say something he didn’t know she needed to hear. She wanted him to say he’d want more children – her children.

  ‘There’s a “but” hovering there somewhere?’

  ‘I was just thinking it would be nice if we didn’t have to say anything meaningful, if we could just pretend we’re having a day out, to see the otters. Would that be cheating?’ It hadn’t been what she’d been thinking, of course, but now she had thought of it, it seemed an excellent idea.

  ‘I’d like that. I’ve realised I’m at serious risk of messing up what could be one of the most important relationships of my life. It would be nice to stop worrying for a while.’

  ‘I think that’s how I think about it, too,’ said Emily. Then she worried that she’d said too much. She’d acknowledged – to him and to herself – that their relationship was important to her. But although he gave her a glance, he didn’t comment.

  ‘It’s apples for pudding,’ said Alasdair when they had both eaten two sandwiches, and Emily had sipped enough whisky to make her head swim a little, although actually not a lot of it.

  ‘Perfect. I know apples aren’t really good for your teeth but they do feel better after a good crunch. Your teeth, I mean.’ Was she actually a bit drunk? Maybe it was a good thing.

  ‘Well, spoil that by adding chocolate.’ He threw a bar down beside her. ‘I should have put much more thought into this picnic. I’m afraid I was very distracted when I made it.’

  ‘Was it work distracting you?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, much more important than work.’

  ‘Well, it’s the best picnic. Simple, delicious food. I love it.’ She yawned suddenly.

  ‘I did bring something to lie on though,’ he said and looked into the rucksack. ‘Here we are. You can lie on this.’

  ‘I don’t know why I’m so sleepy. The whisky, probably.’

  ‘Or maybe you haven’t been sleeping well. I know I haven’t.’

  ‘You’re right, I haven’t.’

  Having unzipped it, he spread out the sleeping bag and then produced a couple of camping pillows. ‘It’s a single, but should be just about big enough for two.’

  Without knowing quite how it happened, Emily found herself lying on a sleeping bag, covered with a blanket, Alasdair very close beside her.

  ‘This is so good,’ he said and put his arm round her, getting her to put her head on his chest.

  Emily sighed. ‘It is.’ It felt right. And with so much going on in her mind it was good to feel certain about one thing.

  ‘Mm,’ he said in agreement. ‘And what about this?’

  He started to kiss her, gently and then with intent. He was concentrating hard on what he was doing and it had exactly the right effect. Emily relaxed and let herself enjoy the moment.

  She didn’t complain either, when his hand found her waistband and pushed up over her skin. She just wriggled into a more comfortable position. Soon her hands were finding their way under his clothes, finding the curve of his muscles, possibly honed by rowing, as urgently as he was undoing her bra and kissing her stomach.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Emily a while later.

  Alasdair sat up and started gathering discarded clothes and handed them to Emily. ‘I want you to know that was absolutely not on my agenda for today!’

  Emily laughed gently. ‘I’m so glad. I’d hate to think you’d written a list with “make love to Emily” on it.’

  ‘It was absolutely on my wish list, though,’ he said, looking her intently. ‘But not on a Scottish beach in October.’

  ‘It worked out OK, though.’

  ‘It was wonderful, but next time it’s going to be somewhere comfortable, not a beach, not a sofa bed with an iron bar running up the middle, but possibly a five-star hotel with a super-king-sized bed.’

  Emily pulled on her sweater. There might not be a next time, although she could imagine there could come a time when she’d fly up to Scotland for the weekend. It would be like an affair where neither party was married. It could be fun but it would never be truly satisfactory. ‘There’s nothing wrong with spontaneity.’

  He glanced at her. Had he heard misgiving in her voice? ‘Maybe it’s time for tea.’

  As Emily watched him find sticks, break them and build a fire she felt a rush of love for this man who may or may not be hers. He was sensitive enough to know she didn’t want to talk about her feelings. She wanted to be really clear about them herself before she shared them with Alasdair.

  Eventually he handed her a mug, full of smoky, strong tea, with a few tea leaves floating in it. ‘Shortbread. Made by a patient.’

  ‘Do you ever have to make cakes or biscuits in your house?’ said Emily, accepting a triangle of biscuit she knew to be called a petticoat tail.

  ‘We don’t ever need more of those things but Kate likes to make them sometimes.’

  ‘Do you help her?’

  ‘I’m the sous-chef. I wash up and put together the icing kit.’

  ‘Technical stuff.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He looked at her. ‘I don’t mean to push but Kate would really appreciate someone who knows more about cooking than I do to help her.�
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  Just for a second Emily wondered if she could pretend she couldn’t cook but of course she wouldn’t get away with it. ‘If it was just about living with Kate, I’d be there like a shot.’

  ‘So, it’s me who’s the problem?’ He sounded so desolate she put her hand on his.

  She shook her head. ‘I would have thought you’d have worked out that you’re not.’

  ‘I’m flattered, but lust is one thing, love is another. I’m afraid lust on its own isn’t enough.’

  Emily sighed. ‘It’s not my feelings about you we need to worry about.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  She could appreciate she was being difficult but although she knew she loved him she didn’t feel she could tell him everything, especially about wanting a baby. He might feel trapped. She would mention it, but not just this minute. She couldn’t.

  ‘Well?’ he prompted, obviously unable to wait for an answer any longer.

  She fell back on her career. ‘It’s my job. It’s great. I’m the midwife in charge of a greatly expanded midwife-led unit. I’m recruiting, looking at plans for the new building, dealing with budgets. Everything, really.’

  He nodded. ‘So how’s it going? Are you enjoying it?’

  ‘Yeah – well, sort of. It’s certainly challenging but …’ She sighed. ‘I miss the hands-on. I may get to deliver the odd baby eventually, when it’s all set up, but I might not.’

  ‘Well, I can see the job you’ve been offered up here can’t measure up.’ Not waiting for her to reply he went on. ‘You can make a difference here, but there’s no prestige involved. No fancy office, no fancy salary.’

  Suddenly she became aware of how she must sound, and remembered the row they’d had at the party when he’d accused her of being a career woman, more interested in work than people. ‘Listen, I don’t care about prestige or any of that stuff – as long as I make a living wage – I just want interesting, useful work.’

  ‘Then take the job you were offered here,’ he said. ‘I know it is for very selfish reasons but I really want you to have it. Lizzie Miller-Hall and I worked hard to devise it – making sure you’d get to do some midwifery – so it was appealing for you.’