And how Cat would love this, thinks Liv. We are being manipulated by her even at this distance. As she lifts her hand she catches a glimpse of the little pink hearts that the twins have stuck on her arms, and suddenly she remembers being at South Milton, thinking about her mother’s conversation about fear, and how she sat in the sun with a delightful stranger and talked and relaxed. How easy it might be to misinterpret that, to talk it up into something that was a threat to the trust in a relationship. Yet there had been no harm done.
Matt is watching her anxiously and instinctively she stretches a hand to him.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I know I’m paranoid about that woman but I simply can’t help it. All my instincts tell me that she’s bad news.’
He seizes her hand gratefully. ‘I’ve seen her in action, now,’ he says, ‘and I utterly agree with you. But I promise you, Liv, absolutely nothing happened.’
But it might have done, she thinks, simply by sowing discord and destroying trust.
‘Let’s forget her,’ Liv says. ‘There’s no place for her here. I hope she’ll be happy in New York.’
She can sense Matt’s relief and she puts her arm around his waist. He pulls her close and kisses her, and they walk on together.
The twins stand at their bedroom window watching the sunset. They are amazed at the spectacle and stand in silence as the sea is stained red and the sky flames with colour.
They can see Mummy and Daddy walking in the wild-flower meadow, arms around each other, and stopping every now and again to kiss whilst Jenks runs ahead through the tall grasses. It makes them feel safe and happy, to see them like this. The twins love it here. They want to stay for ever.
The sun is sinking quickly, as if it is plunging into the sea, being extinguished for ever, and yet in the morning it will be there again in the sky. It is mysterious and important. The sea burns with liquid fire, the sun vanishes, the colour fades.
‘Good grief, Charlie Brown,’ says Flora softly.
‘Awesome,’ agrees Freddie.
They begin to laugh, very softly, to scramble about on their beds. Their shrieks grow louder.
Baz stands outside their bedroom door, listening, smiling at their antics.
‘Good grief, Charlie Brown,’ he roars suddenly. ‘Do you two never stop?’
There is a complete silence. Baz pushes the door open and goes in. Freddie and Flora are lying in their beds, gazing at him with big, innocent eyes. He goes to them, straightens their duvets, checks that Douggie Doggy and Pengy are tucked in with the twins, and smiles down at them all.
‘No more talking,’ he says. ‘This is not a subject for negotiation. Kite-flying tomorrow if … if I don’t hear another squeak out of either of you.’ He bends to kiss each of them and then pauses at the door, knowing they are waiting. He says: ‘God bless. Sleep tight,’ and they reply, though very quietly, ‘Make sure the bugs don’t bite.’
Baz goes downstairs. He can hardly believe his good fortune. He feels in his heart that this new project is just what Matt and Liv need to inject a freshness into their lives, and how wonderful for those twins to live here, with the sunshine and the sea, and to go to the little primary school in the village. It’s good to think of the Beach Hut being lived in, turned into a proper home, and of the cove being shared with other people who need to have fun and relax.
Perhaps, in the future, when he arrives for his fortnight’s holiday, his annual party will include visitors, the holidaymakers from their yurts; new friends. He will no longer have to worry about whether the Beach Hut is getting damp, making quick dashes to check it out, to encourage friends to use it. Meggie is wonderful, and now, perhaps, she and Phil can be involved in a whole new project. She will still be needed.
As for Sofia … Baz sits down at the table outside and thinks about his future with her in Bristol; a future that will include Miles and El, and even Annabel. It seems that, just as he was thinking that his life was slowing down, he is instead on the brink of a whole new adventure.
Baz pours a glass of prosecco, sits for a moment, and then silently raises his glass to Lucy and their baby, Benedict. In the distance he can hear the quiet voices of Matt and Liv as they return from the wild-flower meadow. The sea glimmers in the fading light, the tide is making, and, as Baz watches, stars begin to gleam and glitter in the night sky.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARCIA WILLETT’s early life was devoted to the ballet, but her dreams of becoming a ballerina ended when she grew out of the classical proportions required. She had always loved books, and a family crisis made her take up a new career as a novelist – a decision she has never regretted. She lives in a beautiful and wild part of Devon.
Find out more about Marcia Willett and her novels at www.marciawillett.co.uk
Also by Marcia Willett
FORGOTTEN LAUGHTER
A WEEK IN WINTER
WINNING THROUGH
HOLDING ON
LOOKING FORWARD
SECOND TIME AROUND
STARTING OVER
HATTIE’S MILL
THE COURTYARD
THEA’S PARROT
THOSE WHO SERVE
THE DIPPER
THE CHILDREN’S HOUR
THE BIRDCAGE
THE GOLDEN CUP
ECHOES OF THE DANCE
MEMORIES OF THE STORM
THE WAY WE WERE
THE PRODIGAL WIFE
THE SUMMER HOUSE
THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL
THE SEA GARDEN
POSTCARDS FROM THE PAST
INDIAN SUMMER
SUMMER ON THE RIVER
THE SONGBIRD
For more information on Marcia Willett and her books, see her website at www.marciawillett.co.uk
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Bantam Press
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Marcia Willett 2017
Cover illustration © Hannah George.
Title lettering © Sarah J. Coleman.
Cover design by Becky Glibbery/TW
Marcia Willett has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
The author thanks Jenna Plewes and her publishers, Indigo Dreams, for allowing her to quote from her poem ‘The Final Session’.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781473540842
ISBN 9780593076873
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
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Seven Days in Summer Page 22
