Runaway Summer: Polwenna Bay 1

by Ruth Saberton

  Once Jake’s grandmother recovered from her shock at finding Summer back at Seaspray, she smiled.

  “Of course it wasn’t a bad idea,” she said warmly. “Welcome back, my dear.”

  Stepping forward, Alice Tremaine enveloped Summer in a big hug, not seeming bothered in the least by either the dozen-year gap since Summer’s last visit or her soggy clothes. Summer returned the hug, her eyes filling with tears because Alice smelt exactly the same as she’d always done: a mixture of baking and lavender and something that felt dangerously like home. She’d always felt safe here and never before had she appreciated just how precious this safety was. Unlike her beautiful London house, Seaspray thrummed with love and rang with laughter; there were no cold silences followed by hours of nervously trying to second-guess what she’d done wrong and what would happen next because of it.

  “You’re frozen!” Alice exclaimed, stepping back and looking concerned. Taking Summer’s arm, Alice steered her unexpected guest to the armchair by the Aga. “Excuse the hair on it, love. Our cats insist on sleeping anywhere but in their baskets. Now, a cup of tea is what you need – and a change of clothes. Jake, don’t just stand there like a goon. Go upstairs and see if you can find some dry things for Summer, and get yourself out if those wet things too while you’re about it. You’re dripping all over my clean floor.”

  Jake grinned across the kitchen at her and Summer’s own lips couldn’t resist curling upwards too. “You can see that I’m still a teenager as far as my grandmother’s concerned!”

  “Well, if you must act like one,” Alice scolded, but she was smiling at him as she spoke. “Now hurry up and get changed. This weather’s closed in for a while. We’ll have to sit it out.”

  As if on cue a gust of rain blew against the window and rattled the panes. While his grandmother made tea Jake shrugged off his wet fleece and then pulled his tee-shirt over his head. Even though she was used to Justin’s athletic perfection, Jake’s torso – strong, broad-shouldered and narrowing down to lean hips – was simply glorious and somehow far more real. Years of physical work had honed and sculpted him, not a flash gym and prancing personal trainer. And she’d bet anything that if Jake were injured he’d simply grit his teeth and get on with it rather than rolling about theatrically on the pitch and gurning. His flat, muscular belly was sprinkled with golden hair that tapered to a delicious V just above the waistband of his jeans, and in a second’s weakness Summer devoured him with her eyes. Sensing her gaze on him, Jake grinned at her cheekily. Horribly embarrassed to be caught looking, Summer ripped her attention away.

  “Stop showing off, Jake!” Alice swatted her grandson with a tea towel. “What do you think this is? A nineteen-eighties Levi’s advert? Go and make yourself decent, and on the way back down look in the airing cupboard and see what you can find for Summer.”

  Jake laughed. Water dripped from his hair and trickled over his honed pecs. Something sensual and long forgotten tightened deep in the pit of Summer’s belly. To distract herself she caressed the silky head of the tabby cat that had wandered over to investigate the newcomer. Moments later it had leapt onto Summer’s lap, where it turned several circles, its needle-sharp claws pie-making, before settling down and starting to purr. When Summer looked up again Jake had gone.

  “That’s Scruff. I don’t think you’ve met her.” Alice lifted the kettle from the hotplate and poured scalding water into a teapot. “Who did we have when you lived here? Bella? Or Paws?”

  “Bella. Mo rescued her from Plymouth. She was a stray and some schoolboys were taunting her,” Summer recalled. “They were the ones who needed rescuing when Mo was finished with them.”

  “That’s right. Typical Mo, always rescuing things! The amount of injured seagulls and baby rabbits I’ve had here.” Alice folded her arms, leaned against the Aga and smiled, but her gaze was firm when it rested again on her visitor. “Jake’s the same, of course: far too kind-hearted for his own good when someone needs help.”

  Her subtext was obvious, and Summer understood and respected it. She hadn’t expected to be welcomed back to Seaspray with open arms, not if Mo’s reaction had been anything to go by.

  “I’m not here to upset anyone, especially Jake. I never wanted him to pick me up or bring me here. Honestly.” Summer needed to make it clear that she hadn’t set out to pursue Alice’s grandson. “I was perfectly capable of getting to Liskeard on my own but he insisted on helping out.”

  The older woman nodded. “Yes, that sounds just like my grandson. But Summer, dear, I wasn’t referring to you being out in the rain and needing a lift to town. I might be old but my eyes are still working pretty well – and I know a black eye when I see one.”

  Summer’s hand flew to her cheek. That bloody bruise was causing her no end of trouble. Her mother had clocked it for sure and now Alice. She might as well just stand on the village green and announce that Justin Anderson hit her. With the rain and all the stress of running out of fuel, she’d forgotten about trying to hide it.

  “It’s not what you think, honestly, Alice. I promise. I tripped up in my heels and fell onto the kitchen island.”

  “Come on, Summer! You can do a bit better than that, surely? You are an actress, aren’t you? I didn’t come down with that rain shower and neither did Jake. You know as well as I do that he can’t bear to see anyone in distress. Especially you.”

  Especially her? What did that mean? Did Jake still have feelings for her? Summer was alarmed at the warm glow this idea gave her, as though the sun had broken through the louring clouds outside and was shining through the window.

  “Won’t you tell me what really happened?” Alice asked softly. “Maybe we can help?”

  For a second Summer was tempted to tell her everything, fling herself into Alice’s arms and sob out the whole sordid tale. Then she laughed at herself. What! Did she really think that Alice could make everything better just as she always had done in the past? This wasn’t a case of grazed knees or Ella St Milton being a cow. If only. Justin was far nastier than Ella could ever be.

  “I tripped,” Summer repeated flatly, and Alice sighed and turned back to the teapot.

  “Fine. If you say so.” Strong brown tea sloshed into three mugs, followed by milk. Reaching up to the higher shelf on the dresser, Alice retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

  “I don’t know why I still keep it here,” she remarked, half to herself. “All the children are bigger than me now anyway! Now, a nice drop of this in your tea will warm you up a treat.”

  “No alcohol for me,” Summer said quickly, before the older woman could pour a very generous measure into her mug.

  “It’s just a tot. It’ll do you good.”

  “No, Alice! I don’t want any whiskey. I can’t!”

  There was a pause during which time seemed to go wrong, each second stretching out for far longer than it should before the next one caught up. Slowly, Alice turned around. The look on her face said it all.

  “How many months are you?”

  There was no point lying about this. Everyone would know at some point. Summer’s hand moved to her flat stomach and rested there momentarily. Then she shrugged.

  “I’m not exactly sure. It’s only early days. Six weeks? Seven?”

  “You haven’t seen a doctor?”

  “Not yet. I did a home test.” Summer knew that the memory of seeing that second blue line appear, and the strange alchemy of mingled dread and wonder, would stay with her forever.

  “You really need to see a doctor just to check that everything’s all right. Shall I make you an appointment? Richard Penwarren is supposed to be very good.”

  The thought of going into the Polwenna surgery and having to make small talk with curious locals while she waited to be seen by the GP filled Summer with dread.

  “No! I mean, no thank you. I’ll sort it out when I’m in London.”

  Whenever that was going to be, of course. Sometime shortly after hell froze over?

  Alice f
rowned. “Summer, I wish you’d let me help. I know something’s really wrong. You ought to tell Jake too. About the baby, I mean. He needs to know.”

  “Nobody needs to know anything!” Terror clawed Summer’s throat and panic fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird. This was how it would get out, a game of Chinese whispers until Justin came after her with his lawyers and his threats and dragged her back. Her heart was racing. “Alice, no one else knows about this. No one! I’d really appreciate it if—”

  “Nobody knows what?” Jake strode back into the kitchen, looking from his grandmother to Summer and back again. “Hey, these are serious faces. What have I missed?”

  “Nothing, love. Summer was just saying that nobody knows what it’s like for her being famous,” Alice said without missing a beat.

  “Right.” Understandably, Jake looked confused. There was an awkward silence, broken only by the purring of the cat.

  “I’ve made your tea,” said Alice brightly. “I’ll put some whiskey in it, shall I?”

  “Not for me, thanks, Gran. I’ve just called Nick and he’s going to redeem himself from my bad books by helping me go and rescue Summer’s car. He’s going to come over shortly with a can of fuel. I’m worried enough about driving that lovely car and dripping on the leather, never mind negotiating the roads with one of your measures of Jack Daniel’s inside me.” Turning to Summer, he added, “I’ve run you a bath and left some towels out and some dry clothes too. I’ll be an hour and a half at the most.”

  Summer felt terrible. “I never meant to cause this much trouble.”

  He shrugged her protests away. “What else are friends for? Besides, who knows when I’ll get to drive a fully loaded Audi TT again? We country bumpkins have to take those kinds of chances whenever we can!”

  Nothing Summer said could change Jake’s mind, which wasn’t really much of a surprise given how stubborn he could be. Eventually she gave up and, taking her mug of tea with her, made her way upstairs to the family bathroom. Seaspray hadn’t altered at all, she reflected as she reached the big arched window on the first-floor landing and looked out thoughtfully at the grey sea and even greyer skies. It was reassuring to know that some things had remained unchanged when everything else in the world seemed to have turned upside down. The smell of beeswax polish, the sounds of Alice tidying away in the kitchen and even the drumming of the rain against the windows were all as familiar to her as her own breath.

  Once in the warmth of the bath, neck-deep in bubbles and with her head resting on the pile of towels Jake had left for her, Summer’s heartbeat started to slow at last. Here, in the peace and quiet of Seaspray, she could press the pause button on the crazy events of her life. Even if this was only for an hour or two, it felt good.

  The water lapped over her body, kissing and thawing her chilled skin. Summer exhaled wearily, her eyes growing heavier as she grew warmer. Moments later they had closed and Summer Penhalligan was sound asleep.

  Chapter 18

  “Summer! Summer!”

  The voice reached Summer through her dreams, far away at first and then drawing closer and closer as though the speaker was calling her name through a long, dark tunnel. For a moment she drifted in the soft never-never land between dreaming and consciousness, before the sensation of fingers touching her shoulder snatched her back to the present.

  “Summer? Are you OK?”

  She jumped, her eyes snapping open and a fish-hook stab of panic tugging her awake. For a few seconds she struggled to figure out where she was before everything came tumbling back to her. She was now lying in cold bathwater, the luxurious bubbles of earlier on little more than a scummy residue floating on the surface. Every inch of her naked body was visible and, just to make things even worse, Jake Tremaine was kneeling by the side of the bath. The expression of shock on his handsome face as his eyes flickered over her body made Summer want to sink her head under the water. Once, those blue eyes had burned with desire when they’d rested on her. Justin was right: she was far too scrawny these days. One of their last rows had been sparked by him telling her that she needed to get a boob job.

  To mask her embarrassment she glowered at Jake and injected anger into her voice.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Sorry! Sorry!” Thrusting a fluffy towel her way and then averting his gaze, Jake was all apologies. “When Granny Alice said you’d been in here for almost an hour and a half I panicked. Bloody hell, Summer, Nick and I brought your car back in that time! I knocked and I called but when you didn’t answer I was worried. I thought—”

  “You thought you’d just barge in?”

  “Of course not. I was worried about you,” Jake said, still with his eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Then he shrugged. “Relax, Sums. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before, is it?”

  The only way Summer could ignore the hot wave of shame rushing over her was to channel her annoyance at being disrupted. Clutching the towel to her breasts, she glared at him.

  “Well I’m fine, thanks,” she said icily.

  Jake’s blond head turned slowly back. His eyes met hers and in spite of everything Summer’s heart fluttered like butterflies on buddleia.

  “But you’re not though, are you?” he said softly. “Summer, I’m not an idiot. What the hell has that bastard done to you?”

  His gaze had dropped to her shoulder and the top of her breast, where her recent encounter with the kitchen island was blooming in purple and brown roses across her flesh. There were silver scars too that Jake had clearly noticed, a faint map of heartbreaks and hot tempers. Summer knew in her logical mind that none of this was her fault; if she’d had a friend in the same position, she’d have been the first to say so. Yet the sad reality was that it didn’t feel like this to her. What happened between her and Justin was Summer’s secret shame, and a tiny, treacherous part of her couldn’t help wondering if in some way she was to blame. Justin had said often enough that she drove him to it, that she was too flirty or that her dresses were too revealing, and that he only got so angry because she made him jealous.

  “I’m even more worried now,” Jake frowned when she didn’t reply. “Come on, Summer, this is me you’re talking to. I know you, remember?”

  She closed her eyes wearily. Beneath the lids hot tears threatened to spill. Summer fought to contain them because she was afraid that once she started crying she’d never stop. Besides, Jake didn’t know her anymore, did he? He’d lost the right to know her when he’d refused to answer her desperate letter all those years ago. She’d wanted to confide in him then and he’d turned her away, so she certainly couldn’t trust him now with what had happened between her and Justin.

  “I’m fine,” she said tightly.

  “I know I’m just a bloke but even I know that when a woman says she’s fine she’s generally not being completely honest.” Shifting back onto his haunches Jake crouched beside the bathtub. Slowly, and as carefully as though approaching a wild animal, he reached out his hand and traced the scar on her shoulder with a gentle forefinger. There was something so tender about this simple gesture that she felt herself turn inside out with nostalgic longing. Jake had always been a tactile man, never afraid to show affection. Her memories of their time together were of endless sun-dappled days spent with their arms twined around one another – just the brushing of his fingertips being enough to dust her skin with goosebumps – or walking along the clifftops hand in hand as though unable to be parted even for a second. When Jake had pulled her close Summer had always felt as though she were home: cherished and loved and secure.

  What an illusion that had turned out to be! In his own way Jake had been every bit as much of a disappointment as Justin.

  “Did Justin Anderson do this?” Jake asked.

  Hearing that name was the equivalent of taking the ice-bucket challenge. Image was everything to Justin – image, and his career. Hadn’t he told her enough times that he’d ruin her if she ever dared to breath
e a word? Summer hadn’t doubted him for a second. There was a core of steel that ran through her fiancé; the same steel that had driven him to be top of his game could just as easily be focused on destroying her. It wouldn’t be that hard. Who would believe the word of a once well-known party girl and glamour model against that of a national treasure, the brave cancer survivor and the patron of dozens of charities? Nobody. This was why Summer had no choice but to lie low and pray that nobody tipped off the press while she figured out the best way to keep herself and her baby safe.

  She jerked her treacherous, melting body away from Jake’s touch.

  “I told you. I tripped and fell against the kitchen island. It’s made of marble, for God’s sake!”

  Jake’s full mouth, the same mouth that had once traced fiery kisses across her neck and her now bruised breasts, was pressed into a tight and sceptical line.

  “And did the kitchen island give you the scar on your shoulder too?”

  Summer glanced down at the thin silver line on her left shoulder. There had been so many rows and so many recriminations followed by tears, promises and passionate make-up sex that she’d lost track of them all. She’d almost forgotten about this old war wound, the now faint evidence of another outburst and a diamond-encrusted signet ring. There were too many secrets; trying to contain them all, like a dam brimful of water, made her head thud.

  “That was something else: a cupboard door, I think,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business, Jake. Now, is that the end of the interrogation? If it’s all right with you, can I get out of this cold water and dry off, or shall I just catch pneumonia while you ask me some more ridiculous questions?”

  Summer hated the harsh note in her voice almost as much as she hated seeing the expression of hurt flicker across Jake’s open features. He was so honest, she found herself thinking. He’d always worn his heart on his sleeve and had never been able to ignore anyone in distress – which had made it all the more painful when he’d chosen to turn his back on her.