Jake dropped a kiss onto Summer’s damp forehead then released her gently, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.
“I had no idea,” he said quietly. “Summer, I swear I never knew anything about any of this. I certainly never saw any letter, let alone got to read it. Christ, if I had I would have been on the first train to Paddington. There’s no way that I would have let you go. When I didn’t hear from you again I assumed it was because you’d moved on and didn’t want to know me.”
Summer’s gaze flew to Jake’s. Her face was a study in horror. “You never read my letter?”
“I didn’t even know it existed until a few moments ago. Why didn’t you just phone the house?”
Back then, in the days when both their families had relied much more on landlines, Summer and Jake had spent hours hogging the phone and driving the others mad. For months Eddie Penhalligan had resisted all suggestions of Summer having her own mobile, for fear of her wasting money on her endless calls. He’d yielded on the matter only because Summer was about to move away from home, and he’d been furious when she’d lost the new handset within weeks of owning it.
“I did! I tried ringing you several times,” Summer cried. She could still remember standing in the red call box that was papered pitifully with cards advertising the charms of desperate women, clutching her twenty-pence piece and plucking up the courage to dial. “The first time I rang, Mo told me that you didn’t want to speak to me, and another time when I managed to get through she just slammed the phone down. That was why I wrote.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! Mo! She was so angry with me. I think she felt I’d betrayed her just as much by leaving as I did you. Do you think she would have taken my letter?”
Jake loved his fiery, stubborn sister but he knew that this was exactly the sort of thing Mo would have done. Up at dawn every day to deal with her beloved horses, she wouldn’t have found it hard to intercept the post, which in those days had always arrived through the letterbox first thing in the morning.
“I think it’s exactly what she’d do,” he sighed. “She would have thought she was helping but instead she’s let me waste years of my life thinking that the person I loved didn’t feel the same way about me.”
“And I thought that you hated me. I’ve thought it for years,” Summer whispered. They stared at one another, aghast. “Oh God, Jake. What a mess.”
Jake swallowed back his anger. “It’s all the years spent thinking… Well, I guess there’s no point going over that now. But, Sums, what did you do? What happened to the baby? Am I a father?”
She slipped her hand into his. “I was only sixteen and I was so scared, Jake. I didn’t know how I was going to cope on my own. I thought about a termination and I even made an appointment with the clinic, but I couldn’t go through with it. My baby was all I had left of you; there was no way I could part with it. I guess fate had different ideas, though. I started to lose the baby that same night.” Her voice clotted with tears. “It broke my heart and ever since I’ve always wondered whether that was my punishment for even considering a termination. It was just like what happened today. Maybe that was another reminder of what I almost did?”
The image of Summer alone and scared made Jake savage. He couldn’t bear to think of her frightened in the city and believing that he’d deliberately turned his back on her.
“None of this was your fault,” he said firmly. “What happened then wasn’t a punishment and what happened today wasn’t either, was it?”
Her head drooped. “No. It wasn’t. Today was probably down to Justin.”
Ah yes, Justin Anderson. Jake had been coming to that part of the story. His fists clenched but he was determined not to shy away from the truth, no matter how painful.
“Are you ready to tell me about him?”
She grimaced. “Maybe if you can put a slosh of Alice’s secret whiskey in the tea?”
“Just a small one,” said Jake firmly. “You’ve had a couple of strong painkillers.”
Retrieving the bottle from the top shelf, Jake poured some of the whiskey into two tumblers before joining her back on the sofa. Then he listened quietly and without interruption – even though each word roused in him a fury deeper and darker than anything he’d ever known – as Summer told him the truth about her relationship with the famous sportsman.
It was a familiar tale, of a younger and vulnerable woman who had met an older glamorous man and been amazed to be the dazzled focus of his full-beam attention. He was damaged and had warned her to keep away from him, yet had bombarded her with gifts and flowers and the kind of adoration that she’d thought only existed in movies. He’d woven their own little world where no one else was welcome, and that had been seductive. She’d felt loved, cherished, adored – and later trapped. Friends and family had slipped away until there was nobody for Summer except Justin. Slowly, and imperceptibly at first, his closeness had turned into control. As Summer described how just tiny, seemingly insignificant things such as talking to the wrong person or smiling at a stranger could send Justin crazy, Jake clenched his jaw. It was classic emotional abuse. Justin would fly into a rage, take it out on Summer and then be filled with remorse. Slowly he’d distanced her from her family, undermining the already strained relationships like an artisan manipulator, until there had been nobody close to her but him. It was because he loved her so much, had never loved anyone as he loved her, had been hurt in the past; there were a million excuses for his behaviour. But to Jake’s mind there was only one reason: Justin Anderson was a cowardly, controlling piece of shit. Every time he thought about how Summer had gained her bruises and why she’d lost her baby, Jake was consumed with rage. When she told him about the ugly night when she’d become pregnant, it took all his self-control not to leap into his truck, drive to London and kill the bastard. Only knowing that this would be for his own benefit, rather than for hers, kept Jake from grabbing the keys and storming to the city.
“Why did you stay for so long?” he asked.
“It sounds pathetic, I know, and I tried to leave so many times,” Summer said quietly. She’d hardly touched her drink as she’d told the story, and couldn’t look at him. His heart broke to see that she was blaming herself. “I wanted to get away but I must be so weak, Jake.”
“Summer, you’re probably the strongest person I know,” Jake told her. “You’ve survived. That’s brave.”
“Is it?” She looked doubtful. “I never felt brave. Every time, he talked me around again and I gave in. He loved me, couldn’t bear to be without me and, later on, he swore he’d ruin me if I left.”
“Ruin you?” Jake didn’t understand.
“He meant that he’d destroy my reputation and my career. Honestly, Jake, you don’t know what he’s like. He’s got lawyers on tap and the press loves him, especially after the cancer thing.”
“Does your career really mean that much to you that you’d put up with him?” Jake couldn’t fathom this. The fear and the emotional blackmail made sense but the career part baffled him. Maybe this was because he’d never had a burning desire to be a marine engineer? In contrast, Summer had always wanted to act and Susie had never tired of pushing her.
Summer shrugged. “Not really, but I’ve been sending money home for years – quite a lot of money actually. Dad remortgaged the house; he ran up debts on the business and there have been all sorts of problems with the boat, so I tried to help out. I bought Penhalligan Girl for them, although I guess they’ll need another trawler now, and money’s going to be really tight if nobody’s working. Just the kind of leverage Justin loves. He’d know I couldn’t risk upsetting him.” She gave Jake a sad smile. “I guess in some ways I felt like I deserved him. Justin was my punishment for screwing up when I was younger, but as soon as I found out I was pregnant again then everything changed. When he shoved me into the kitchen island I knew I had to get out, because it wasn’t just about me anymore, was it? So I ran out of the house, jumped in the car and hit the M4 and just drove u
ntil my head began to clear. The rest you know.”
“You’ve been really brave,” Jake told her. Slowly, not wanting to panic her, he added, “but you do know that you can’t keep this to yourself anymore, don’t you? You have to go to the police. He can’t be allowed to get away with it.”
“I know I do, but not right now, Jake. I don’t feel strong enough. Give me a few days just to get my head together and I’ll do something. There’s nothing he can do to me now.”
Jake nodded. Gently, he helped her to her feet.
“I think you need to rest,” he told her. “You’ve had a hell of a day, and I’m more sorry than I can ever say that you’ve had to go through all this. Forget everything else; it can all wait until later. There’s no rush, Sums. You’re safe now.”
She exhaled slowly and, as he put his arms around her and helped her up to the guest bedroom, Jake felt the tension start to slide from her slim frame. By the time she was beneath the thick white duvet her eyelids were drooping.
“I’m so tired,” she said sleepily. “Sorry, Jake.”
Jake leaned forward and kissed her forehead tenderly.
“Just rest,” he said. “You’re safe here.”
Summer had been through so much and he instinctively knew that there was still more that she hadn’t shared with him yet. She didn’t need someone telling her what she should do – God knew, she’d already had more than enough of that – but what she did need was someone to love and support her while she figured out what the next steps were.
Jake wanted those next steps to be with him. He wanted to take her hand and tell her that he would be beside her, every day for the rest of their lives if she would let him. He loved her with a passion that shocked him but he knew that now was not the time to talk about feelings or plans. The events of the day so far were too raw. The past, too, was still painful, with its effects echoing even into the present day, but Jake hoped that if he was patient Summer would realise that she still loved him.
Whether she’d want to be with him though, or with anyone after what she’d been through, was a different matter.
Chapter 31
Mo was buzzing. The excitement of the dash out to the Shindeeps and the adrenalin of finding the boys and bringing them home to safety, combined with the weird pulses of electricity that always seemed to zip between her and Ashley, had left her nerves jangling. Knowing that if she sat on a horse she’d send it crazy, Mo decided to abandon riding for the day and pop up to Seaspray to catch up with her family.
Her head was still spinning from Ashley’s earlier command that she should deliver his coat and life jacket in person. He really was the most infuriating man! Who did he think he was, ordering her about like she was one of his underlings? Mo thought indignantly. She had a good mind to ignore him and let him collect his own stuff. That would show him that she wasn’t the kind of person he could boss around.
Mo shoved the garden gate open and paused to catch her breath after the steep climb. The village dropped away below her; the boats in the marina were all lined up neatly, and beyond the harbour wall the tide was on the turn and hopeful seagulls strutted at the water’s edge. There were still a lot of people left on the quay. The local news crew had arrived and managed to grab Mo for a few sound bites and she’d been hailed as the hero of the day. Mo felt quite a fraud because Ashley was the real hero. If it hadn’t been for him then who knew whether Bobby and Joe would have been found so quickly, or even at all? Fishing off the Shindeeps, and with the rescue vessel still miles away, they could have drifted for hours and quickly become hypothermic. She’d tried her best to explain how the rescue was really down to Ashley and how his confident and expert handling of his boat had made all the difference, but he’d vanished and instead the glory of the day had rested with her. By lunchtime Mo knew that her frizzy red hair and mad eyes (she was under no illusions as to what she looked like on camera) would be beamed into houses across the West Country. I didn’t do anything, she thought guiltily, apart from tell Ashley that he had to find the boys. Thank goodness he’d listened though. They’d spent so much time arguing in the past that she was amazed he hadn’t told her to get lost.
Why had he been so quick to help, rather than being his usual belligerent self? Unless she was a better kisser than she thought, of course. And what was all that stuff about valuing your life and living every moment? He was the most intriguing man she’d ever met, and no matter what she did to distract herself Mo just couldn’t stop thinking about him. She’d contemplated those moonlight kisses so many times that it was making her feel exhausted.
Mo was stumped. This made no sense. She was everything that Cashley hated: a Cornish bramble thorn in his gym-honed London flesh. And as an arrogant, capitalist second-homer he was certainly everything that she despised too. Why she kept reliving those kisses and replaying the image of his haughty profile, hair blown back from his face and jaw set in grim determination as he danced his boat over the waves, was a mystery.
Mariners was directly opposite Seaspray, and as usual the builders were toiling up and down the garden like ants as they built the Great Wall of Cornwall. The place was a testament to Ashley’s sheer determination. He was going to defy gravity, global recessions and PAG to have his house built the way that he wanted it, and in record time too. He was certainly used to getting his own way, so to have taken orders from her earlier was unheard of. What was it with him?
And what was he so keen to tell her?
Trying to figure it all out was giving Mo a headache, so she turned her back on the view and climbed the final few steps up to her family’s house. A cup of coffee, some toast and a slice of Alice’s fruitcake were what she needed. She couldn’t possibly figure Ashley out on an empty stomach.
Mo was spooning coffee granules into a mug and waiting for the toast to spring out of the toaster when Jake entered the kitchen. He looked terrible; his eyes were shadowed and his usually smiling mouth was set in a grim line. Even his golden curls seemed to have lost their bounce. Lord, Mo hadn’t realised just how upset he’d been by this morning’s events. Knowing Jake, Mo guessed that he was blaming himself for failing to get through to Nick. He’d always taken it upon himself to look after them all.
“Hey, cheer up. It’s all OK: Bobby and Joe are fine. They were lucky.” Mo poured the boiling water into her mug and lobbed in a spoonful of sugar for good measure. After the morning she’d had, she figured it was the least she deserved. “Do you want a coffee? Or some toast? I’ve put a couple of slices in.”
Jake didn’t reply but just stood in the doorway. His arms were folded across his chest and there was an expression on his face that made Mo uneasy all of a sudden. If she didn’t know better, Mo would have said it was fury and directed at her, which was ridiculous because she hadn’t done anything wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was the hero of the hour. Everyone in the village was talking about how she and Ashley had rescued the boys. Jake didn’t have any reason to be mad at her, unless it was because she’d not managed to stop Nick drinking last night. Personally Mo thought that it would have been easier to stop the tide. Nick on a mission to drink was a force of nature.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she grumbled. The toast popped up and she whipped it onto a plate, wincing at the heat and blowing on her hot fingertips. “It’s not my fault if Nick chooses to get off his face. He’s a big boy now.” She opened the fridge and rummaged around until she located a jar of Alice’s home-made strawberry jam. “I’m having this on mine. Do you want the same?”
“Did you destroy the letter Summer wrote me?”
The question was so unexpected and so shocking that Mo was totally thrown. She stared at Jake, hardly able to believe her ears.
“What?”
“I asked you whether you’ve ever destroyed any letter that Summer sent to me.” Her brother stepped forward. “It’s a simple enough question, Mo, so why don’t you put the bloody toast down and just answer it?”
Mo glanced a
t the toast, almost surprised to see it; her appetite had vanished the moment that Jake had mentioned the letter. How on earth did Jake know about that? It had been Mo’s guilty secret for years.
No, not a guilty secret, she thought furiously; that wasn’t the right way to describe what had actually been an act of love. Mo had only been thinking of protecting her brother from any more heartbreak. Having seen him fall apart when Summer had chosen to walk away, Mo had been filled with a bitter determination not to allow her to do any further damage. As far as Morwenna Tremaine was concerned, Summer had had her chance and she’d blown it long ago. Nobody treated her brother like that and was ever forgiven.
Mo adored Jake. Like her, he was old enough to remember their mother. When Penny Tremaine had died, Jake, Danny and Mo had clung to one another for comfort. Jake and Mo had been especially close. It had pretty much stayed like that throughout their childhood. Jimmy had never been much of a hands-on father – he was far too busy chasing the latest money-making scheme or impressing holidaymakers in The Ship – so the eldest Tremaine siblings had been left to their own devices. It was Jake who’d taught Mo to ride a bike and throw a mean right hook, and who’d patiently let her learn to drive in his beloved Fiesta. Mo loved him fiercely and wanted to kill anyone who might hurt him.
Even if they happened to be her best and oldest friend.
Summer had called the house on a couple of occasions and Mo had happened to pick up both times. This had given her the perfect opportunity to tell her ex best friend exactly what she thought of her. Summer hadn’t said much in response but had simply and quietly taken Mo’s ranting and raging, probably knowing she deserved it, Mo had thought savagely. If she’d seen how pale and defeated Jake had been, then Summer would have realised that actually Mo had let her off lightly. A few days later Mo had been up early to ride and by chance had bumped into the postman, a portly character who was often complaining about the hilliness of his delivery round. Seeing Mo, the postman had recognised an excuse to avoid climbing the steep path to Seaspray. He’d thrust a pink envelope into her hand and called over his shoulder to make sure to give it to her brother. Mo had taken one look at that familiar loopy handwriting, and the letter’s fate had been decided. The second the postman was out of sight, Summer’s words to Jake had been pocketed in Mo’s jacket. Not long afterwards, they’d been pink confetti drifting on the sea breeze. No good would come of anything Summer had to say, Mo had told herself. As she’d watched the pieces of the letter land on the waves, the words bleeding away into the water, Mo had been convinced that this was all for the best.
Runaway Summer: Polwenna Bay 1 Page 36
