Runaway Summer: Polwenna Bay 1

by Ruth Saberton

  “I thought he’d be pleased. You just never know where these things can lead. I’ll book The Tinners then, if you’ll give me your brother’s mobile number.” Ella was into businesswoman mode now, in control and loving it. It was sexy in a way, Jake supposed; it just wasn’t the right way for him.

  Ella reached into her Mulberry bag and pulled out her iPhone. Her fingers hovered over the touchpad.

  “There’s one more thing,” she said slowly.

  Jake wondered what Ella was going to come up with next. How about Annie Leibovitz is coming; maybe she could have a chat with Morgan about photography? or Jesus is on the guest list; he’ll probably work a miracle and heal Danny if I ask him?

  He brushed the crumbs from his shorts, exciting a flotilla of ducks into a crescendo of quacking and sending the seagulls wild, then turned to face her. Her eyes met his and the determination in them was incredible.

  “Which is?”

  “It’s something I want you to do for me.”

  “And what’s that?” Jake stretched his arms above his head. The sun had dried his shorts out now and his shoulders were dusted with cinnamon-coloured freckles. He’d pop home and fetch a new tee-shirt before Cashley turned up with his latest dolly, wanting to show off by bossing his boat wallah around. “Check Polwenna Princess’s engines? Swab the decks?”

  Ella exhaled slowly. “No, nothing like that. Jake, we’re both adults and I think we both know where we stand with each other. We’re both single and we have a good time together, don’t we? I’m not asking a lot in return for giving Mo and Zak a hand, but the deal is this: if I do, I’d like you to come to the ball as my partner.”

  “You’re asking me to go to the ball with you?” Jake was taken aback. “Ella, I’m really flattered but I don’t think it’s exactly my scene. You don’t want the boatyard grease monkey as your date.”

  “I think we both know you’re a bit more than a ‘grease monkey’,” said Ella, with a shrug. “But it’s up to you. I don’t need to beg for dates and I won’t ask twice. I just think that we could have fun.” She leaned forward and traced her forefinger up his thigh. “A lot of fun.”

  Her message couldn’t have been clearer. Ella was sexy and clever, and Jake didn’t doubt for a minute that she could be fun too. He was also aware that an alliance between the Tremaines and the St Miltons would be unstoppable. There was only one problem. The woman he was sitting with wasn’t the woman he wanted.

  Ella wasn’t Summer.

  “It’s just a masked ball, Jake,” said Ella when he didn’t instantly leap at the idea. “It’s a bit of fun. But hey, up to you. None of you have to come if you’d rather not. Or,” she paused, “if there’s someone else you’d rather be with?”

  “The last time we spoke you weren’t exactly in my fan club,” Jake reminded her. “What’s changed?”

  “I know I overreacted then and I’m sorry,” Ella said. She actually sounded as though she meant it. “It sounds stupid but I was jealous. I thought you two were seeing each other again, but then I bumped into Susie and she told me that Summer is head over heels in love with Justin. Of course she is! They’re Summer and Justin, aren’t they? Made for each other. Summer wouldn’t cheat on the man she loves.”

  Jake stared across the harbour. A slight figure in a baggy black hoody was standing at the end of the quay, her arms wrapped tightly around her slender frame. Then she turned on her heel and began to walk back towards the village, her gaze fixed ahead and her thoughts miles away. He didn’t even need to see her face to know that it was Summer, but she was completely oblivious to him. Christ, he needed to get her out of his system and fast. He was behaving like a teenager.

  Besides, Susie had told Ella that Summer was still crazy about Justin. Thank God he’d not made a fool of himself by saying something to her. Just the mere thought of how close he’d been to total humiliation made him sweat.

  Ripping his eyes away from Summer, Jake turned back to Ella. Slim, spiky, sexy, keen Ella. What the hell was he waiting for?

  “It sounds like a lot of fun,” he said slowly, ignoring the racing of his heart and the desire to leap up and tear after the woman on the far side of the water. He reached down and covered Ella’s cool and manicured hand with his own work-roughened one. There was only one way to get over a woman, wasn’t there? Now was the time to put the old theory into practice…

  “Count me in,” he told her.

  Chapter 16

  Summer was enjoying spending time back at home, chatting with her mother and slowly recovering from the events of the previous few days. Susie was wise enough not to ask any difficult questions and, for the first time in ages, Summer felt able to relax. So far she’d managed to avoid her father on any of her visits to Cobble Cottage, which had certainly made life easier. With every day that passed she was feeling a little more confident. Since the weekend was looming, and this was guaranteed to put Eddie in a good mood because it meant even more time in the pub, she decided that maybe she’d pop back and catch him tomorrow. He had to be faced at some point – just not right now, when there were other priorities to deal with first.

  “You don’t have to go. Why don’t you stay and have some lunch?” Susie insisted when Summer made leaving noises. Already she’d saturated her daughter with tea and filled her up with saffron buns but, worried that Summer was too thin, she was desperate to feed her even more. “I’ve made some minestrone soup and there’s some lovely Cornish brie in the fridge. It’s no bother.”

  “That sounds lovely, Mum, but I’ve got a few things to do this afternoon.” Summer glanced up at the kitchen clock. “Actually, can I use the landline? I need to make a few calls and my mobile’s in London.”

  Phones hadn’t been top of Summer’s list of must-haves when she’d fled from the house. However, now she needed to call her agent and tell her to cancel the next couple of weeks’ jobs, and then pop into the bank to see if she could withdraw some funds. It wasn’t going to be easy without a debit card, but surely the bank manager would recognise her even with this haircut? If not, Susie had dug out Summer’s birth certificate – although she was obviously puzzled as to why her daughter was in Polwenna Bay without her wallet and her phone. She was clearly desperate to ask about Summer’s bruises, but her tentative enquiries hadn’t been successful and she’d given up for the time being. Still, Summer suspected that Susie was just biding her time before trying again. Summer would need to summon all her acting skills to convince her mother that everything was fine.

  While Susie busied herself setting the table for lunch, Summer went into the hall and perched on the bottom of the stairs with the old telephone wire pulled out as far as possible from the wall socket. This was a real throwback to her teenage years; she must have spent hours sitting here in the chilly gloom and gossiping with Mo until Eddie yelled at her to get off the bloody phone or walk up to Seaspray!

  Talk about coming full circle.

  Taking a deep breath to steady herself before dipping a toe back into the real world, Summer dialled her agent, Hattie. While the call was being transferred, she prepared for a tongue-lashing.

  “Summer? Thank God! Where the hell have you been?” Hattie Lane sounded frantic. Summer could picture her perfectly, the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, her razor-sharp bob swinging as she scooted her wheelie chair back and forth in agitation. “Justin must have called the office fifty times! What the hell are you playing at? I’ve been worried sick.”

  Hattie and Summer had known each other for over ten years. Summer had been one of the Lane Agency’s first clients. The day that Hattie had signed her up, in the small cramped office above a Chinese takeaway in East Ham, had been the day that Summer’s career had really taken off – even though it hadn’t been quite in the direction she’d originally intended. As Summer’s fame and profile had grown, so had the agency’s. Today Hattie managed an impressive portfolio of some of the UK’s most famous faces, while her partner ran the New York office. The poky r
oom that smelt of dim sum and hoisin sauce was just a distant memory; these days the Lane Agency was homed in a suite of plush offices just off Piccadilly, with floor-to-ceiling windows affording a breathtaking view of the lights and busy city beyond. The Times Square office was even more glamorous. Still, the main thing was that both women knew exactly from where the other had started. Over the course of Summer’s career numerous agents had approached Summer, all of them desperate to tempt her away with lucrative offers – but she’d stayed loyal to Hattie. There was something of the Jerry Maguire about her that Summer respected.

  Hattie also knew far too many of Summer’s secrets.

  “You missed the shoot we had booked for Monday,” Hattie was saying over the top of Summer’s apologies. “Have you any idea how bloody difficult that was for me? I had to seriously kiss ass and promise them an exclusive with you and Justin for the October issue. And before you say it, I don’t give a fuck that Justin doesn’t like doing shoots for women’s mags. You owe me, Summer Penhalligan, so just make it happen. If anyone asks, you’ve had seriously bad flu, OK? That’s the excuse I’ve given, although they probably all think you’ve gone abroad for a boob job.”

  Although she knew that Hattie had more chance of flying to Mars than of getting her and Justin to take part in a couples photo shoot, Summer found herself agreeing. There was no point upsetting Hattie just yet; until she managed to sort herself out a bit, she’d need the other woman on side to assist her financially.

  “The shoot was a great one, just beauty work for that new brand, Glitter. It was an exclusive too,” Hattie sighed. “We’d have syndicated the images. I have kids to put through private school you know. Don’t make a habit of ducking out on me.”

  Summer made the right regretful noises while thinking privately that with her black eye and bruises the magazine would have had a very different kind of exclusive. There was no way she could say this out loud though, not with Susie’s ears out on elastic. Besides, ever since the phone-tapping scandal she was paranoid about whoever else might overhear. She wouldn’t put it past Justin to have had Hattie’s phone bugged; he was that paranoid.

  “Hattie, I’m so sorry,” Summer said again, once her agent had run out of steam. “I just had to get away and fast. That’s why I’m calling you. I left without my bag or my phone and I really wasn’t thinking.”

  “Without your bag?” Hattie’s brain was working so rapidly that Summer could hear the cogs whirring. “Jesus wept, Summer. Justin again, I take it?”

  Summer didn’t say anything.

  “Can’t speak, eh?” said Hattie when Summer remained silent. “I get it. I’ve got teenagers, remember? Parent over shoulder?”

  “Something like that,” Summer agreed.

  “Well I can talk, so you just listen to me. He’s a bastard, Summer, even if he is famous and loaded. Sod the magazines and sod the rest of it. If you’re somewhere safe then stay put, OK? Don’t come back until we’ve worked something out. Just tell me what you need and I’ll sort it.”

  “Thanks, Hats.” Summer closed her eyes. It felt good to have somebody fighting her corner.

  “Don’t thank me; what are friends for? Besides, you know me, babe – always an eye for business. We could spin this story our way and make a killing if you like? Justin won’t know what’s hit him. Oh! Unfortunate turn of phrase, but you know what I mean.”

  “No! Don’t do that. Please! You don’t know what he’s like.” Summer’s heart lurched. Justin would bury Hattie too: he’d warned her enough times what he would do if she ever crossed him. Summer believed him and she wasn’t going to risk upsetting him any more than she had to. “Let me handle this my way, OK?”

  Hattie sighed. “I don’t like this at all but it’s your call, babe. So, I take it you’re in Cornwall with your folks and you don’t have any access to your money. Do you want me to pop over to your house, grab your bag and FedEx the cards over?”

  “No, don’t do that. He’ll probably have stopped them anyway as they’re in joint names. Could you possibly pay some money into an old account of mine if I give you the details? I’m going to head over to Liskeard in a minute and I could withdraw it then.”

  “Sure. I’ve just had a cheque come in from Hiya – remember that shoot you did before the Beckhams’ charity gala? That’s a nice big sum and should keep you going for a while. Hang on, let me grab a pen.” Summer could hear Hattie rummaging through the detritus on her desk, which was always topped with papers, cuttings and empty takeaway cartons. Some habits died hard, even when you were a big success and had an office in the West End. “OK, babe, shoot.”

  Once Hattie had the bank details so that she could make an instant online transfer, Summer finished the call, promising she’d be in touch very soon. Although Hattie didn’t say so, it was obvious that she was worried at the way the situation had escalated. Summer was worried too, and she was going to do something about it this time – although she wasn’t sure what. One thing was a certainty though: she wasn’t going back to Justin.

  With this thought still at the forefront of her mind, Summer pulled on her black hoody, kissed Susie goodbye and walked along the quay until she was standing right at the furthest end. The sea was rougher today and although the sun was still shining, a line of dark cloud bruised the horizon, a threat of bad weather to come. Maybe it was a metaphor, thought Summer. Just as her life felt calm right now, as soon as Justin knew that she was breaking things off there was going to be one hell of a storm.

  The big diamond on her left hand caught the light and glittered. It was a huge heart-shaped stone, two and a half carats set in a band of white gold, and had been the subject of much admiration from the celebrity magazines. Justin had flown Summer to New York on a private jet and then swept through Tiffany’s as though he owned the place, making Summer cringe at his blatant showing off. If she was honest, she’d started to have her doubts right there and then. Justin had been oblivious to her embarrassment; twenty minutes and goodness knew how many thousands of dollars later, the enormous ring had taken pride of place on her engagement finger.

  And it was a beautiful ring. The stuff of fairy tales, only this fairy-tale had soon switched genre and become a horror story. Justin might have paid cash for it but Summer had paid a much higher price.

  Slowly and deliberately she eased the ring off her finger. For a moment she held it in her right hand, letting the light play over it and watching the rainbows dance across the quay, before raising her arm and hurling it high into the sky. The ring arced through the air for a moment before plummeting into the sea, vanishing as the waves closed over it.

  It was probably the most expensive symbolic gesture she’d ever made, Summer thought as she turned on her heel and retraced her steps, but it felt great. She hoped that in years to come a child crabbing in the harbour might find it, or maybe on a winter’s day a woollen-hatted visitor with a metal detector would strike lucky. She wiggled her hand and smiled; not only did her fingers feel lighter, but her heart did too.

  The drive to Liskeard was only eleven miles, but it was eleven miles of twisty-turny lanes that wound their way through the interlocked hills and narrow valleys. Summer could have taken the main roads, but she’d always loved the quieter back lanes with their cool green depths and grassy central ridges. There were landmarks too that she’d loved from childhood, like the forgotten postbox set in the crumbling wall of a long-deserted cottage and hidden by a tangled fringe of ivy, or the huge wrought-iron gates that guarded the sweeping drive of a mysterious manor house. Seeing these again was like unlocking a treasure chest of memories.

  She and Jake had driven these lanes a thousand times in his ancient Jeep, her hand resting easily on his jeaned thigh, sensing those strong muscles tighten beneath her fingertips as he worked the clutch. At other times she’d be busy passing him cola bottles and jelly rings from a giant packet of Haribo, laughing until her sides hurt as he messed about with them and poked his tongue out at her. Sometimes Jake would pu
ll the car into a shady gateway where they’d watch the setting sun slide into the sea, so orange and so bright that they almost expected to hear it sizzle when it reached the water. Then he’d draw Summer into his arms and kiss her until she felt dizzy with the kind of longing and happiness that only teenagers can feel.

  As she drove those same lanes now, a wave of nostalgia swept over Summer and she wished that she could be that happy carefree girl again, even if it was only for few minutes. Her Audi might be smooth and the height of luxury with its cream leather seats and surround-sound Bose stereo, but right now Summer would have swapped it in a heartbeat for that tired old Jeep with its faint smell of mildew and the leaky sunroof. No car rides since had ever been as thrilling or as much fun as those she’d shared with Jake. Now that the ridiculous diamond ring was gone and she was away from London, Summer could freely admit that Justin and the Ferrari hadn’t even come close.

  Talking of leaky sunroofs, the clouds that had threatened on the horizon half an hour before had now rolled inland and the sunshine had turned to a sickly lemon hue. The sky had become the same angry purple as Justin’s face when he was in a rage; fat splats of rain began landing on the windscreen. Moments later there was a downpour, followed by an enormous clap of thunder as the wipers swiped over the windscreen like crazy. It was at this point that Summer’s car decided to cough and splutter and finally peter out to a stop.

  “What?” Taken aback, Summer stamped on the gas, but to no avail. A closer inspection of the dashboard revealed that the empty fuel light was blinking at her angrily. Lost in her daydreams earlier, this had barely registered. Lord, she must have been driving on fumes: she hadn’t filled up since London. Letting the car roll gently to the side of the lane where there was a gateway, Summer yanked up the handbrake and then thumped her head on the steering wheel in despair. Just great. She was miles from anywhere and on a back road that few people used, so the chances of flagging down the AA were slim. If she was lucky a farmer might chug past in an hour or two – but he’d be on his way to milk the cows and hardly inclined to drive five miles out of his way just because she’d run out of petrol.