“More in common than they might have thought?” Danny wondered. “Gran’s devastated that Emerald’s staying in a caravan. She’s longing to cluck over her.”
“Maybe she should cluck over Dad a bit instead?” Symon suggested.
“Dad?” echoed Danny. “This is all his mess.”
“Maybe, but perhaps we ought to think about why?”
“Err, because he’s hopeless?” said Danny.
Symon handed them both a menu. His expression was thoughtful. “Is he really though? Why does he behave the way he does? Why did he run away when Mum died? Why’s he never found anyone else? When you lose someone you care about – someone you love truly and deeply – you never get over it. It’s like part of you has been… amputated.”
“Tell me about it,” said Danny, and Symon coloured when he realised what he’d said.
“Oh God, that was bloody tactless of me. Sorry, Dan.”
“No, no, it’s actually a pretty good analogy,” said Danny slowly. “I’d never thought of it quite like that before.”
Jules had; Jimmy’s past behaviour seemed to her like evidence of a breakdown. Now, though, she was wondering who’d hurt Symon so badly. His words had come from the heart, that much was clear.
Poor Symon, puce with embarrassment, was talking about the menu instead.
“Tonight I recommend the monkfish,” he was saying, “with the fresh dill and organic garden pommes de terre with butter and parsnip puree. Maybe some mackerel pâté for your starter? And blood-orange sorbet as a palate cleanser?”
Jules’s mouth was watering already.
“Sounds good to me,” Danny nodded. “I’m loving the way you describe Perry’s potatoes! Garden pommes de terre? Maybe I could have a side of fries with ketchup instead?”
His brother winced. “Philistine. Jules? For you?”
“I’ll have the same, please,” Jules told him.
“And to drink? Sparkling water for you, Dan? Jules?”
Danny no longer drank alcohol but Jules decided she could always order herself a glass of champagne later on to celebrate.
“Sparkling water sounds perfect,” she said.
Symon collected their menus and once he’d departed for the kitchen, Danny reached across the table and took Jules’s hand.
“There’s something I need to ask you and I’m so excited I don’t think I can wait for our starters to arrive. Is that OK?”
Jules nodded her assent. Her heart was bouncing like a spacehopper. Oh goodness! This was it! He’d picked the perfect setting: the snowy table linen and the soft light from the candle couldn’t have been more romantic.
“Jules, I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you this,” Danny began as his thumb caressed the back of her hand and longing licked through her like a flame, “but we’re always interrupted or one of my family does something crazy and the moment goes.” He laughed nervously. “I’m not very good at this telling people what I’m thinking stuff. Maybe I’m more like Dad than I thought?”
Usually Jules would have started babbling at this to put him at ease, but she held her tongue: these were words Danny had to speak.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about the future,” Danny continued. “I love my life here in Polwenna with Morgan and my family and you. I love you, Jules. I hope you know that.”
Jules nodded encouragingly and felt a flicker of excitement. This was it. Danny was getting ready to tell her something big. She could tell by the way his face had taken on a serious expression and the grip on her hand had tightened.
“Go on,” she said gently.
He took a deep breath.
“I love you, Jules, but I love the army too. It was my life and I miss it every day. Working with Jake is great and being hands-on with Morgan is fantastic but I sometimes feel that there’s something missing. Maybe it was being part of something bigger? I like feeling that I made a difference and I know I was good at my job. I have a duty to the army and I feel that I haven’t finished with it yet.” Warming to the topic, he carried on excitedly, “I’ve been talking to my old Lieutenant Colonel – he’s the guy who commanded me for both my front-line tours – and he’s suggested I apply for a desk-bound Staff Officer role in London. I’ll keep my rank too.” He beamed at her. “I’d be back in the game. What do you think?”
What did she think? Jules couldn’t think at all for a few seconds. She was utterly floored.
She’d always known that Danny’s passion for the army had never waned and that he missed his career dreadfully. It hadn’t just been his arm and some of his sight that had been lost when he was injured. But he was thinking about returning? And had been actively discussing going back? This was a huge shock.
And what did she think? That she couldn’t have got things more wrong if she’d tried. Danny hadn’t brought her here to propose. That had never been his intention. Her own pathetic hopes and dreams had stopped her from seeing what was really going on. It was all obvious now.
Danny had brought Jules here tonight to tell her he was leaving.
Chapter 14
Symon didn’t often take time off but the past couple of weeks had been exceptionally stressful. His landlord wasn’t prepared to renegotiate the lease, so the restaurant’s future hung in the balance. On top of that, Emerald’s arrival had thrown the family into uproar and the approaching tourist season meant that he was up until the small hours experimenting with new dishes to wow his customers. When Mo invited him over for a barbecue lunch, Symon found himself accepting and, what was more, actually looking forward to a break from work. He’d spent all morning preparing fish chowder, a firm favourite at the Seagull and famous for being served in sourdough bread bowls with a side portion of truffle fries. He’d also been making goujons from the delicate lemon sole Nick had delivered the day before. When Symon had left the restaurant, Perry had been in the kitchen unloading the latest produce, while Kelly, Tara and Tony had been readying the place for the lunch service. They were fully booked, his staff were doing their usual fantastic job and all was under control.
So why did he have an unpleasant churning sensation deep in the pit of his stomach?
Symon mulled this over as he walked up to Mo and Ashley’s place – a large house known locally as Mariners, which stood on the headland keeping watch over the bay. The fact was, unless he found a new venue soon (which was bound to involve finding extra money as well), he was going to have to break some pretty bad news to his team. They worked so hard for him and Symon felt dreadful that he would be letting them down.
“Who died?” was Mo’s opening gambit when she answered the door. Her wild red curls were pinned up on the top of her head with a bulldog clip and Isla was sitting on her hip, beaming her gappy smile at him.
“Nearly me! You path is bloody steep,” Symon grumbled, ruffling Isla’s hair and giving his sister a hug. The Tess incident was forgiven, if not quite forgotten, and Mo leaned forward and hugged him back.
“Tell me about it. Nobody wants to deliver the shopping and I have to park miles away at Fernside. I’m starting to wish I’d never made all that fuss about Ashley bulldozing a road through the woods!”
“I thought you guys were getting a helipad? That’s what Sheila Keverne told Kelly,” Symon teased, and Mo rolled her eyes.
“If he’s got money for a helicopter then he can get a new horse lorry first,” she said. “I’ll need it to get out and about this season.”
“You’re going to compete?” Symon was surprised.
“Of course I am,” said Mo. “I’ve got Emerald helping with the horses now and that’s given me lots more time. She rides like something out of the Wild West but I don’t hold that against her. Paula’s taking over the schooling, which means I can go out again.”
“And Ashley’s cool with that?”
A cloud flittered over Mo’s face. “It’s my decision, not his. Anyway, never mind all that right now; the others are on the terrace. I thought we’d eat outside as it’s
so mild.”
That was a “no” then, thought Symon as he followed his sister through the vaulted open-plan expanse of Mariners’ ground floor. The modern conversion had been designed by an award-winning architect and until recently had been an immaculate vision of blond wood, white sofas and painfully trendy (and Symon suspected even more painfully expensive) pieces of artwork. Now though, the place was littered with baby paraphernalia and Mo’s tack. A baby gate guarded the bottom of the floating glass stairway, a bouncy swing had been set up in the huge archway between the kitchen and the living areas, and two saddles were slung over the sofa. Toys were everywhere too and for a surreal moment Symon wondered if he’d died and gone to Hamleys. For somebody who could barely walk, his niece certainly had a lot of kit. Symon wasn’t convinced she needed a giant rocking horse when Mo had the real thing – and as for a Scalextric? That had to be Ashley’s indulgence!
Mo shoved open a pair of enormous bifold doors and they stepped onto the terrace, where a big table was set up, complete with patio heaters and a barbecue being tended to by a fraught-looking Ashley. Smoke was rising, flames were leaping and oh no! That wasn’t how it was done at all. What Ashley needed to do was—
“Don’t you dare,” warned Mo, seeing Symon glance over. “You are not to so much as flip a burger. Grab a beer and relax for once. We’re cooking.”
It was on the tip of Symon’s tongue to say that things might be bad but that dying from food poisoning wasn’t top of his list; however, the determined expression on Mo’s face kept him quiet. Besides, he could always claim he was full. To be fair, it was true that he didn’t have much of an appetite lately.
The fear of losing your business was certainly a good way to lose weight. Perhaps he could market that and make enough to save the restaurant?
It was a mild March day: the sky was blue, the sun was warm and the hedges and banks were exploding with flowers. On an afternoon like this in Cornwall, it was hard to believe it wasn’t summertime. Mariners’ terrace had the most spectacular view across the sea and a few determined day trippers had even braved the beach. A flotilla of yachts was peeping around the headland, their sails pregnant with the wind and the wake spreading behind them like lace as they zipped across the bay. Helping himself to a beer, Symon decided there were worse places to feel sick with worry.
Mo went to make sure Ashley was doing a good job of incinerating the burgers and Symon joined the others at the table. Tom Elliot from the hotel was in the middle of a story about his latest hotel nightmare and doing a wonderful impression of Ella giving him a telling-off, which had everyone in stitches. Nick was explaining the context of this to Emerald, who was understandably bemused, while Alice tutted and shook her head. Jake and Summer were deep in conversation with Tess, who caught Symon’s eye and looked away hastily, and Morgan was busy taking photos. Even Jimmy was present, still looking sheepish, but making an effort to spend time with his newly discovered daughter.
“All right?” Danny asked, clinking his Coke bottle against Symon’s Bud.
“Yeah, I’m good, mate.” There was no point worrying his brother, Symon thought.
“No Jules today?”
Danny shrugged. “She said she was busy.”
“Too busy for a burger? That doesn’t sound like her,” this was from Mo who, having passed Isla to Summer, was reaching into the cooler for a beer. “Are you guys OK?”
“I think so,” Danny said. Then he frowned. “I can’t think why we wouldn’t be. She’s been a bit off the past couple of weeks though. If it was anyone else I’d have thought I’d upset them, but you know Jules; she’s always upfront. That’s one of the things I love most about her.”
“She seemed very quiet when you left the restaurant that Monday,” Symon said. Jules had hardly touched her food and he’d fretted that there might be something wrong with it. She’d been very pale too and barely said goodbye. “Was she ill?”
“No. She was fine. Insisted on walking home by herself, which we had a bit of a squabble about, but there was nothing else going on.” Danny took a big gulp of Coke and coughed as it fizzed up. “Shit! Beer never did that!”
Mo’s blue eyes were narrowed. “What exactly were you guys doing in the Seagull on a Monday anyway?”
“Eating,” said Danny. “It’s this weird thing people do in restaurants.”
“Ha ha. Very funny, smart arse,” said Mo. “But on a Monday? It wasn’t a special occasion or anything?”
“That’s what I wondered when you asked for a quiet table, Dan,” Symon agreed. It was probably best not to mention that Kelly and Tony had been taking bets on a proposal taking place. Big Rog had been certain he was going to win and, in the end, sick of endless texts from nosey villagers, Symon had confiscated Kelly’s phone.
“Why wouldn’t I ask for a quiet table? I had something really important to say about our future.” Danny was looking perplexed.
Mo’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! You’ve asked her to marry you! Congratulations! Can Isla be a bridesmaid?”
“Of course I haven’t proposed!” Danny said. “What on earth gave you that impression?”
“Err, a secluded table in a romantic restaurant and on a Monday? Talking privately about the future?” Mo nudged Symon, slopping Budweiser onto the table in the process. “Go on, Sy. I bet you thought the same.”
“Maybe,” said Symon carefully. Not speculating about your customers was one of the golden rules of running a restaurant. No diner wanted to think they were being spied on by the chef and the waiters – as he’d tried to remind Kelly and Tony that night.
“And if we thought that, you can bet Jules did too!” Mo shook her head despairingly. “Men! You are all absolutely clueless and, yes, I count my own husband in that too before you ask. Lord, no wonder she’s been off with you, Danny! I bet she thought you’d hidden a ring in the fish pie or something!”
Danny stared at her in horror. “No way!”
“Yes way,” said Mo. “Out of interest, what did you want to talk to her about?”
“Mo, I don’t think that’s really our business—” Symon began, but Danny had drained of colour.
“I took Jules to dinner to tell her I’ve been asked to apply for a desk job in London,” he explained. “The army want me back and I was hoping to sound her out and know what she thought. That was the news I had to tell her. I wasn’t proposing.”
“You utter muppet, Daniel Tremaine,” said Mo. “You took Jules out for a romantic dinner to tell her you want to move away? Are you for real?”
“It wasn’t like that at all,” protested Danny. “I was excited about the job and the possibilities. It could be amazing for us both.”
“But did you tell Jules that?” Mo asked, and Danny’s groan was all the answer she needed.
Time to intervene, Symon decided. He’d been making peace between his siblings for years and he knew that once Mo got her teeth into something there wasn’t a lot that would make her let go. The stricken expression on Danny’s face told Symon that the last thing his brother needed was a Mo lecture.
“Are you going to let Ashley cremate the food or do I need to step in?” he asked as a cloud of black smoke billowed from the barbecue. This was enough to distract Mo and with a howl she fled across the terrace, leaving Danny and Symon alone.
“I’ve really messed up,” groaned Danny.
“Nothing you can’t fix.” Symon thought of Claudette and his heart shivered. That was unfixable.
Danny stared at the horizon. The light played on the water, making it sparkle, and for a while he seemed totally absorbed. Symon sat quietly, not wanting to interrupt.
“The thing is, I do love Jules,” Danny said finally, still looking out over the water. “She’s everything to me but I love the army too and I’m excited about the prospect of a new role, even if it won’t be active service. I still feel that I need to do my bit for the country and make a difference. I could come home at weekends, maybe even do four days a week? I think
Tara and Morgan would be cool with it and I could see Jules too. Maybe she’d even move to London? Have a parish there?”
“Maybe,” said Symon cautiously. “You’d be asking a lot of her though. She loves it here.”
“So do I.” Danny shook his head. “I feel so torn. Not about Jules – I love her and I want us to be together. That’s settled in my mind and I thought it was in hers. But the army…” He sighed. “What can I say? This isn’t about not loving Jules or my life here. It’s about the army, Sy. I miss it. I really miss it.”
“I understand,” Symon said. “I miss Paris.”
The two brothers didn’t say any more. They didn’t need to. An entire subtext flowed between them. Neither had ever questioned the other about the events and circumstances that had led them back to Polwenna Bay. There was a language of regret and despair in which they were both were fluent; it was based on the tug of mutual sympathy. Symon sipped his drink and reflected that, unlike his brother, he didn’t have a way back to the past. For him it literally was a foreign country.
“Maybe you should explain all this to Jules?” he said eventually. “Tell her how you feel about everything?”
“I intend to,” Danny said. “In fact, I know exactly how I can show Jules how much she means to me and that my wanting to go to London doesn’t mean the end for us. I’ve had a brilliant idea and it’s actually down to Mo!”
Symon was about to ask what this might be, when they were joined by Tom.
“You two look very serious,” he said, perching his designer-jean-clad backside on the bench beside Symon. “How can I cheer you up?”
“Lend me a few hundred grand?” Symon answered without thinking. Great. He’d just let Tom know he was worried about money. The whole village would know in twenty minutes.
Tom whistled. “I couldn’t lend you a tenner right now. In fact, I was thinking about asking Ella to sub me until payday. Not that there’s much chance of that. She’s tighter than a bodycon dress these days.”
Recipe for Love: A gorgeous Cornish romance (Polwenna Bay Book 5) Page 13
