by Lucy Coleman
I find a little outcrop of low-level rocks and sit myself down to watch the water as it ebbs and flows. It’s time to begin filling in the finer details of my five-year plan. What if I manage to achieve it earlier? That would be a bonus. Or should I hold out and increase my safety net?
Salaries are not as high in Lisbon as people might imagine, given the cost of living and that’s one of the reasons why I opted to live in Almada, where the rent is cheaper. Each month I’m able to save some money, but not a huge amount. Perhaps I should consider producing smaller, more affordable sculptures and see if I can sell them. Is that something I even want to try? It’s certainly an option if I want to fast-track my plan.
‘You’re hiding. I wasn’t even sure it was you.’ Reid’s voice floats across on the breeze and I turn to look up at him.
‘No. Just relaxing and being me.’
He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, his feet are bare and I know how tortuous this is for him as he hates the way the damp sand sticks to his skin.
‘Can I join you?’
‘I don’t own the rocks,’ I reply quite casually.
‘You knew I would come?’
‘I hoped you wouldn’t.’
‘Am I destined always to disappoint you?’
‘Do you want the polite response, or the truth?’
Reid stops to look at me for a moment and I chide myself for not jumping up and heading back to the villa. ‘The truth, always.’
Now he’s trying to score points, but it’s too late for that.
‘What I admire about my father is his strength and determination; what he’s achieved coming from humble beginnings. What I loathe about him is that he thinks everyone can be bought. He bought my Mum a big house, thinking that was doing his bit to keep her happy. And she was miserable. What she wanted was his love and affection.’
‘You compare me to him – someone you hate?’
I close my eyes, pushing my head back and my hat falls off. It skitters across the sand and Reid chases after it. When he brings it back to me, I look up at him, sadness overcoming me.
‘We are who we are, Reid. Can’t you see that?’
‘Ask me to do anything and it’s done. Anything at all.’
‘Life doesn’t work that way. You can’t have it all, no matter how hard you try.’
‘Just listen to me, please,’ he holds up a hand in front of my face, his expression fixed. ‘Beatriz and Tomas will run Reid Henderson Designs from the first of September. Tomas is moving his family back here and they will take charge of the house and, together with Beatriz, they will set up the art gallery and run an artists’ retreat. Casa da Floresta will fulfil its true potential, at last.’
‘Congratulations. If there is one thing that I wish for you, it’s that. Your vision is about to come true, Reid.’
‘I did it for us, Seren.’
Here we go again.
‘No. You did it for you, Reid.’
‘You think that walking away was easy?’
‘From what?’
‘From everything. I’m just one of the directors now. Tomas and Beatriz have an equal say and they’re in charge of the business. They can overrule me whenever they want.’
‘What have you done?’ My voice wavers, as our eyes meet.
‘I’ve signed a contract. A maximum of twelve appearances a year at their request. All of my paintings are sold via the new company, including special commissions, but if, and when, I work is entirely up to me.’
‘But if Tomas is going to be living at Sintra permanently, where will you live?’ I ask, as I try to figure out what this means.
‘Here, at the villa. I bought it for us, but I knew the moment I saw your reaction to the car that I couldn’t tell you that. There were too many loose ends to tie up first. It was obvious that you were expecting something to go wrong. I knew that I had one chance to get it right and I didn’t want to blow it.’
Getting back with Beatriz never was an option for Reid, I can see that quite clearly now. But maybe she hoped she could scare me away. For him, it was always more about his daughter and what was best for her, but my insecurities made me wonder whether he was still in love with Beatriz. I pushed him away because I was afraid of getting my heart broken, but now it’s beating so fast it feels as if it’s trying to leap out of my chest.
I bow my head a little as my emotions begin to overwhelm me. ‘And that’s why the kestrel is here,’ I mumble.
‘A little piece of your heart will always remain with me, no matter where you are. I was close to breaking down when you gave him to me, Seren. But I refused to give up hope, regardless of the cost. I knew it was from one of my drawings and I felt the love reflected in every little detail. It was then that I knew no price was too high, because my life would be nothing if you weren’t in it. He represented the freedom I longed for; you were the one who spurred me on to make it happen.’
Turning my head, I look out to sea, as the enormity of what Reid has sacrificed for me makes my heart soar.
‘The question is, Seren Maddison, what will you give up for me?’ Reid reaches out to grab my hand and I turn to look at him, unable to speak. ‘If you love me half as much as I love you, then you will hand in your notice at the gallery and come here, so we can make this our home. It’s a huge compromise, I know. This isn’t exactly the simple life and I can’t pretend I’m walking away from the new arrangement a poor man. But if it was all about the money, then I’d have been mad to sign that contract. Is it enough to demonstrate that you are all I need in my life? I still want to be able to take care of you and money is only an evil if you put it before everything else.’
As the tears roll down my face, I realise that the relationship expert was wrong. And I was wrong, too. Reid represents all the good qualities of an honest man, trying to do his best for his ex-wife and daughter after his marriage fell apart. He lost his way and his inspiration, facing an unknown future, alone. If he had given the kestrel away, I could never have forgiven him, ever. But he didn’t. He understood what it meant.
I stand and offer my hand to pull him to his feet.
‘Promise me one thing,’ I half-whisper as the birds overhead try their best to drown out my voice.
‘Just name it.’
I swipe away the tears running down my cheeks, but they are quickly replaced, making me laugh. ‘That every morning, you and I walk down here and take a few minutes to sit and reflect. No matter what life throws at us, this moment is the defining one. When the impossible happens. No one can change another person. People can only change themselves. You let go of your dream for me and I’ll let go of my dream, for you. Together we’ll create a new dream. I have no idea what that will be, Reid,’ I smile at him. ‘But it will be ours.’
He looks back at me, stepping in to touch my cheek and then plant his lips on mine, briefly. ‘Who cares, as long as we’re together?’ he whispers, his voice touchingly hoarse. ‘And we’ll call our new home A Vila dos Sonhos – The Villa of Dreams.’
Reid wraps his arms around me, and we stand for a long time clinging onto each other. Then, reluctantly, he draws back to gaze down into my eyes.
‘You rescued me from myself,’ he whispers.
‘We were two lost souls, Reid, and we rescued each other.’
As he smiles down at me, he tips his head back, takes a deep breath to fill his lungs with the salty air and then shouts out as loud as he can, ‘I will love you forever, Seren Maddison.’
His words are caught up on the breeze and seem to echo around us both as we hug. And now I finally know what happiness means… forever.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to give a virtual hug to my amazing editor and publishing director, Sarah Ritherdon, who is truly a pleasure to work with. You are a real inspiration!
Also, to my agent, Sara Keane – your support means the world to me.
And to the wider Boldwood team – a truly awesome group of inspiring women I can’t thank enough for their
amazing support and encouragement. The editing process is a long one and I’m eternally grateful to everyone who plays a part in polishing the manuscript to allow the story to sparkle.
As usual, no book is ever launched without there being an even longer list of people to thank for publicising it. The amazing kindness of my lovely author friends, readers and reviewers is truly humbling. You continue to delight, amaze and astound me with your generosity and support.
Without your kindness in spreading the word about my latest release and your wonderful reviews to entice people to click and download, I wouldn’t be able to indulge myself in my guilty pleasure… writing.
Feeling blessed and sending much love to you all for your treasured support and friendship.
Lucy x
More from Lucy Coleman
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Read on for an exclusive extract from A Springtime To Remember, another gloriously escapist novel from Lucy Coleman.
1
When Fairy Tales Come True
‘Once upon a time there was a little girl who had a very big dream.’
‘How big?’ Little Maisie stares up at me questioningly. Surrounded by a mantle of shadows in the darkened room, only the tiny shaft of light seeping in from the landing allows me to see her baby-blue eyes. She’s determined not to give in to sleep, but it’s obvious she’s fighting a losing battle.
Maisie blinks in rapid succession and already her breathing is beginning to slow.
‘Hu-u-u-uge.’ The sound of my soft whisper fills the air. ‘And she promised herself she would never, ever, let anyone deter her from trying her hardest to make everything she wished for come true.’
I glance down at my darling niece and catch a fleeting glimpse of a smile before sleep finally whisks her away. Hesitant to make a move for fear of disturbing her, I decide to sit for a while, fascinated by that perfect little heart-shaped face. It tugs on my heart strings as I realise how much I’m going to miss her this spring.
As I’m about to ease myself up very gingerly off the bed, to my complete surprise her little voice suddenly rises up out of the darkness.
‘When you come back you will tell me all about your adventure, won’t you, Auntie Lexie?’
I reach across to smooth a few strands of hair away from her warm little cheek.
‘Of course, I will. And it will be a story of palaces and kings and magical gardens that stretch out as far as the eye can see. Now go to sleep, beautiful girl, and keep a tight hold of Mr Panda, because he will keep you safe until I get home.’ She snuggles her rather threadbare companion even closer.
Stooping to plant a kiss on her forehead, I notice she’s fallen back to sleep. It’s hard not to feel sad, because when I return, she’ll probably have grown another inch and I will have missed so much. Even a few months can see so many changes in a five-year-old and she’s growing up way too quickly. Maisie is an old head on young shoulders, and takes after me, rather than my sister, Shellie. Much to Shellie’s annoyance.
I creep out to find my older sister in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar leisurely reading her Kindle.
‘That was quick, but Maisie was exhausted. Swimming always has that effect on her. She’s going to miss you, you know.’
Shellie holds up her empty coffee mug and shakes it at me. I nod, sinking down onto the stool next to her as she jumps up and heads in the direction of the coffee machine.
‘I know she’s only a phone call away, but it won’t be the same. She’s my little buddy. You made a special one there, sis.’
Shellie laughs. ‘Well, I might not have attained the lofty heights of ambition and fame that my baby sister and my older brother have, but this is the life I wanted, so I’m happy.’
I studiously ignore the reference to our estranged brother, Jake. Success often comes at a price and, in his case, it went to his head. I guess family doesn’t mean much if your ego tells you that you’ve outgrown the people who love you.
Reining in that little surge of anger his name always invokes, I watch Shellie as she moves around the kitchen. With baby number two due in seven months’ time she’s in her element. I know she’s impatient, ticking off each precious day on her calendar at the thought of giving Maisie a sibling. Shellie is a mini version of Mum, whereas Jake and I take after our late father, Paul.
Chrissy, our mum, has always been the rock of the family because Dad was often away travelling, or home working late in his study. They were a team, though, and she was a bigger part of his success than most people realise. And because they were both happy in their respective roles, I can’t remember them ever having a cross word.
Dad was someone who grabbed every opportunity and was determined to live his dream. Was he a little self-centred? Well, yes, I suppose he was, because as soon as he was away, it was as if we didn’t really exist for him. But on his return, Dad would thrill us with stories that captured our imaginations and fired our enthusiasm.
Dad was lauded as one of the top wildlife photographers of his generation, and he lived for the thrill of capturing that perfect shot. With a long list of magazine articles and natural history programmes to his credit, he was always in demand. The fact that he died while doing something he loved seemed fitting in a tragic sort of way.
I remember the day of the fateful call and the phone falling from Mum’s ear as she struggled to take in the devastating news. Dad had a massive heart attack while filming on location in Tarangire National Park, in Tanzania. If only it had happened in the UK, maybe we could have…
‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you, Lexie?’
Shellie appears in front of me, proffering a mug of steaming coffee and one of her delicious, homemade chocolate and beetroot brownies.
‘Sorry. My head is all over the place right now. So many last-minute things to do before I fly out tomorrow.’
She eases herself up onto the stool alongside me, frowning.
‘No regrets? I mean, you’re always heading off somewhere or other, but this is the longest stint in one go. I know there’s a lot at stake for you personally on this one.’
I burst out laughing. ‘A lot? You could say that. I’m sinking every penny I’ve saved into this, and it’s my one-time shot.’
Absent-mindedly, she scoops the long blonde hair back from her face, yanking a scrunchy from around her wrist to pull it into a ponytail. I’ve always envied her hair, another gift bestowed by Mum, and my short, feathery look is about all I can do to tame my wavy mane. Taking after Dad doesn’t come without its drawbacks.
‘You aren’t regretting this project?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I don’t want to be just a TV presenter any more.’
She smiles. ‘Your chance, at last, to be a producer, too. You just like being in charge.’
The smile becomes more of a smirk – she knows me so well and yet her comment puts me on the defensive.
‘Well, you know that I love gardening programmes. You can blame that on Grandma. All the time I spent with her in the garden as a child. And teaming up with cameraman Elliot Nielson is a dream come true. Elliot has great connections and has filmed at Versailles before. Fingers crossed, between us we can do the business.’
In fact, Elliot is setting out to make a big name for himself and his work already commands a lot of respect within the industry. But this project is a huge risk for him too, because, while in theory we have interest in this mini-series of documentaries we’re going to be working on together, there’s no signed contract yet. The reality of the situation is that no TV network will commit until we have something to show them, which means using our own money, and putting everything on the line.
‘So, when exac
tly are you due back from Versailles?’
‘The fourth of June, at the latest, as I’m hosting a new slot on the Morning Sunshine show. Elliot won’t be working exclusively on our project while we’re away as he has some paid work that he’ll be doing in between filming. It was a big factor in him being able to commit to it, so I’m happy to work around him. What’s left of my nest egg will keep me going until I get home, hopefully. The bonus is that this is finally the chance I’ve been waiting for, to spend time doing some family research.’
Shellie’s forehead lifts as she pulls one of her renowned is that wise? faces.
‘I guessed as much, but have you actually spelt that out to Mum?’
‘What, that I want to dig around and find out more about Grandma’s time in France? Well, I sort of assumed she’d take that for granted. I’m a journalist, after all, and I’ll be in Versailles with time on my hands.’
‘Good luck with that, then, as 1961 was a long time ago.’ She rolls her eyes, clearly thinking any spare time I have could be better utilised.
‘I loved Grandma Viv’s stories about her childhood – she was a natural storyteller. You missed a lot not joining us in the garden, you know.’
Shelley bats her eyelashes at me. ‘That’s why your hands were always so filthy as a child and, besides, you were her undisputed favourite. She knew it was never my thing, anyway.’
