Over a hurried cup of tea this morning, Julie filled me in on everything that had happened. Gabe had stayed the night but had to go back up to the Midlands as he has a job interview today; something I found hard to believe. He’s been happy doing a few odd jobs – barman, hospital porter, delivery driver - these last few years, not wanting to commit himself to anything and preferring to keep plugging away at his art. And he is a really, really talented artist. However, apart from the occasional sale, it isn’t paying the bills and I can see how it’s difficult for Julie. It seems that Gabe has now realised this himself. The job is with a graphic design consultancy and Julie says he’s really excited about it. Apparently he told her he’d been thinking about how he’d acted, and why she’d left him, and had come up with a plan, to show her he appreciated her. He wanted a well-paid job so he could contribute more financially and she wouldn’t feel like she had to work all hours to keep them afloat. And he realised he had taken her for granted and let her do too much around the house.
“Apparently it was his mum who made him see it!” Julie had laughed drily; she and Gabe’s mum had not always got on brilliantly well. “I never knew that she could see how hard I was working, or that he was… well, taking the piss, really. I used to think it must have been because she spoiled him when he was growing up, but he says that wasn’t it. He said it was his own fault, and nobody else’s.”
“Well, good on him,” I said fondly. I suppose if he’s going to work in graphics, he might be able to use his artistic talents, even if it’s not entirely in the free-spirited way he’d like to.
“I know,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s come up with all this, by himself. It’s what I always wanted him to do. I did spell out to him on more than one occasion how fed up I was getting…”
“I’m sure you did!” I grinned.
She nudged me but grinned as well, “… but it never made any difference. He’d say all the right things and maybe make an effort for a day or two but then we were right back to square one.”
“So what now?” I asked.
“What now,” Julie repeated. “I… I think I have to go back to Gabe. I love him, Alice. I still love him. Maybe I always knew that but him coming down here, with all his ideas, and his plans for us… it’s made me realise how much I’ve missed him.”
“But Luke..?” I ask.
“I know,” Julie put her head in her hands. “Luke is so lovely. I can’t believe I’ve done this to him, and what a time to do it, too, with his mum. I am such a stupid, stupid cow. I do love him, too, but is it possible to love two people at the same time?”
“Shit, look at the time!” I said as Julie moved slightly and I saw the clock on the microwave. We had seven minutes before our shifts started. We gulped down our drinks and scurried off down the stairs. I could just hear the sounds of David getting up as we tiptoed past his bedroom. I smiled to myself that at least one of us was happy this morning. And I thought selfishly that at least all this mess with Julie had taken my mind off my own situation, with Sam.
It’s busy at the Sail Loft and I don’t have time to think; going from waitressing to gobbling my breakfast down with barely a moment to spare.
Bea is in a great mood this morning, I guess because she’s so happy about David and Martin. Julie is dreading telling her that she’s going to leave. She’s decided to work a week’s notice then head back home, to Gabe. She wants to have time to tell Luke that she’s leaving. Gabe has no idea about Luke, and I don’t know if she intends to be honest with Luke about going back to Gabe. I have to leave her to it.
While I’m on the phone, taking a new booking, I see Julie come out of the kitchen and knock on Bea’s office door. She glances at me briefly, crossing her fingers, before walking in. She is in there for a while and when she comes out her face is pale and it looks like she’s been crying. Julie is really not much for crying normally so I’m not used to seeing her like this. However, I am on the phone again so I can’t go to her. I gesture for her to wait, and she does.
“Oh my god, was it that bad?” I ask.
“What? No, oh no, Bea was lovely. She said it was kind of lucky because her friend’s son has just come back to town so she can ask him to fill in.”
“You look like you’ve been sobbing, though.”
“I know, I have, I’ve just been telling Bea about it. And she was so kind. I wasn’t expecting her to be and the nicer she was, the more upset I became. She said that even if it wasn’t for Jonathan, she’d probably have been able to get somebody, but not anyone like me!” Julie blows her nose. “She said I have to go back to Gabe if that’s what’s right for us. I guess seeing David and Martin so in love must be getting to her.”
I smile to think of this. I really thought Bea might go mad. I had no idea she was such a romantic! A divorcee with no children, she had bought the Sail Loft when she and her husband split up, and turned it from a slightly twee, chintzy B&B into a really lovely hotel, pretty much all on her own. As far as I know, she’s not had any relationship to speak of since then and the hotel has become her life. I really admire her but I wonder if it’s a bit lonely being her, sometimes. Julie says it’s why Bea and I get on so well; we’ve both shut ourselves away from relationships.
Looking at the state Julie’s in, I’d say Bea and I have made the right choice. Maybe I’ve had a lucky escape with Sam. Still, as I think of him, I check my phone in case he’s been in touch. There are no missed calls, no messages.
After work, I go back to the flat. I decide to get out of town for the rest of the day; take the train across to the other side of Cornwall, walk to a little sheltered beach I know where I can swim, and think, and get away from everything. It does seem slightly ironic that I am now trying to get away from the place where I’d come to get away from everything.
Julie is going to see Luke, and tell him she’s going home in a week. She says she is going to be as honest as possible. I feel so sorry for him. But it’s better than leading him on. I agree to be back here in the evening so hopefully we can have a glass of wine and talk things through; I think she will need it. I won’t be rushing back to get to Pilates, though.
I sit on the train, looking out of the window. We go round part of the coast, then weave in around some small villages, arriving on the other side of the ever-narrowing peninsula. I know this place well, but not from the golden summer. This is a place we used to come to; Mum, Dad and I, when I was little. Sometimes we’d be with Dad’s brother and his wife and kids, so I’d have cousins to play with. I remember the walk to the beach; along the edges of fields, with tall crops swishing next to us, in the breeze; crickets chirping and butterflies flittering up, away from our brown legs and sandalled feet. I remember Dandelion & Burdock to drink, or Shandy Bass. A swim in the sea followed by a Mars Bar. Pasties or sandwiches for lunch and chips from a café not far from the station. The beach was recommended to my dad by the owner of the cottage where we used to stay. It is a ‘locals’ beach’ and nowhere near as busy as those in back in town. I follow the same route we took so many years ago. The wheat and the sea breeze whisper, conspiring next to me as I stride along, and the clouds dash across the sky, their shadows sweeping the landscape and then the sea – which looks a dark blue today; more agitated than it has been for a while - trying their best to keep up.
As I get closer to the beach, my mood lifts, my footsteps quicken, and I feel lighter somehow. I have my ever-reliable bag slung over my shoulder, in it a bottle of water, a towel, a book, a change of clothes, a few coins, and a hoodie. The path down to the beach is rocky and steep so I pick my way carefully down, landing on the sand after a short jump at the very end. The beach is deserted. I laugh for pure joy. The place is mine!
I set my bag down and I pull off my dress, then I run, crunching over the shale, the sharpness scratching the dry skin of my feet. Straight into the water, ignoring the cold; plunging deep into the depths, the salt stinging my nostrils and eyes. This is just what I needed.
&
nbsp; I think of Julie, and Luke, and the conversation they could be having right now. I think of Sam, and wonder where he is. At work, probably. Is he thinking of me? I think of Mum and Dad, packing for their trip. That thought makes me happy.
I swim out a little way; wary of the choppy water and unfamiliar currents, I keep a close eye on my position and pick out a rock or two as markers so I can tell if I am being carried too far off course. It seems fairly tame, though; as long as I stay within the relative safety of this bay I think I’ll be fine. I swim from one lot of rocks to the other, then back again. I can see my bag, clothes and shoes where I tossed them. There is still nobody else on the beach. As I scull along for a while on my back, I feel myself relax. My muscles seem to loosen and I gaze at the sky, watching the clouds pass overhead. I remember once more why I am here. It feels like all my thoughts have been of Sam lately but I didn’t come back to Cornwall for him. I came because I love it here. I’ve just been swept away by seeing him again; by rediscovered memories. But there have been ten years that have passed since those memories were made, and much has happened in that time.
Thank god Mum and Dad are coming tomorrow; I can work in the mornings then spend the afternoons and evenings with them. Maybe we will come back here, and revisit some of the places where we holidayed. When they go back, Julie will be leaving, too. I could go as well but why should I? In just six or seven weeks, I will be heading back to the Midlands anyway and I am determined that I will not waste a minute more thinking of Sam. I have a chance to spend some real time in Cornwall and I may not get this opportunity again. I won’t have it ruined because of a relationship which never was.
I swim back and forth a bit more to keep warm but when the sun disappears behind a large cloud, my skin prickles with goose pimples and I know it’s time to get out. I swim strongly back to the shore and I head back to my things, wrapping my towel tightly around me. When the cloud moves off on its way, I soon warm up and dry off in the sunshine. I lie back on my towel, sand in my hair and sticking to my skin, and I let myself just relax, trying to remember some of the relaxation exercises I learned in my Pilates class back home. It makes me think of Casey and I feel sorry for her, but I didn’t like the accusing tone of her message. I think it’s safe to say that friendship has bitten the dust.
After a while, I think it’s time to head back. Reluctantly, I say goodbye to the beach where still nobody else has set foot since I’ve been here. I imagine a house somewhere like this; where in the winter it would be bleak, and wild, and probably a bit scary. But it’s real, somehow. It’s not sitting in an office, selling stationery. It’s not travelling on a bus back and forth to town, the same fellow passengers every day, all focusing on their screens, scrolling endlessly through social media updates made by people as bored as they are. I’d like to live here, and write here; get a dog, maybe two. I would pop into town once or twice a week; have a chat with the shopkeepers who I’d get to know (I’m not totally anti-social), maybe go to a reading group or something, and then escape back here to a place which is mine and mine alone; where nobody else can tell me what to do or when to do it.
The wind is picking up as I walk back towards the small town and the railway station. I pull on my hoodie and wrap it close around me, my bare legs feeling the brunt of the weather. Soon enough, the blue sky is shrouded with grey, while long fingers of low-lying mist begin to stretch across the land. I sit on a bench on the station platform, drinking a coffee from the nearby café, where we used to buy our chips but which now sells artisan breads at extortionate prices. The mist advances and I am glad when the little train pulls slowly in and I hop on board, heading back for the north coast. The mist’s attempt to swamp the land is thwarted as we rattle across the county. By the time I am climbing back out of the train, it is sunny once more, the sky clear.
David and Julie are both out when I get home so I head gratefully up the stairs and collapse onto my bed. The events of the last day or so, coupled with the long time I spent swimming this afternoon, have worn me out. I fall into a deep and satisfied sleep and I stay that way until the alarm goes off the next morning.
Chapter Twenty-One
On Tuesday morning there is no sign of Julie but I don’t have time to do more than send her a text asking if she’s OK. I’m relieved when I get a message back from her:
Yes, see you at work, explain later.
Explain what? I wonder, but I have no time to think too hard about it as I jump in the shower, get dressed, and scurry off to the Sail Loft.
“Good morning!” Bea is smiling at me as I walk in, “I’m looking forward to meeting your parents today. Are you all free for a meal tomorrow night? I thought we could do it here; Jonathan – who’ll be stepping into Julie’s shoes next week - says that he’ll do the catering, get used to the kitchen. Julie says she’s coming.”
So Julie’s here already. “That sounds great, as long as you don’t mind us barging in on your family celebration!”
“You won’t be barging in at all; we’d love to have you. There’ll be me, David and Martin, of course, and Martin’s brother, plus a few of their friends. Then you, your parents, and Julie.”
It sounds lovely and, best of all, we’ll be safely tucked away at the Sail Loft; no chance of bumping into Sam, or Casey. I do wonder what I’d do if I bumped into Sophie; the town’s certainly small enough for that to be a possibility. I don’t know if she’ll have any idea about what is going on, or if she thinks me and her mum have fallen out – which I suppose, in a way, we have. I guess I’ll just have to play it by ear.
Before the guests start trailing down into the dining room, I quickly push through the door into the kitchen. Julie is working away, whistling to herself.
“Julie!” I hiss. “How did it go?”
She turns, quickly. She looks OK. “Oh, it was fine. Much better than expected, in fact!”
“How’s Luke?”
“He’s OK. Well, he’s not, but that’s more to do with his mum than me. He said he knew he’d pushed me too quickly and that he shouldn’t have done. He said he’d been thinking maybe he isn’t in the right frame of mind to be starting a new relationship, anyway.”
“Wow,” I say, thinking that Julie’s landed on her feet once more. “And he was OK about Gabe?”
“Well,” she looks embarrassed. “I didn’t quite tell him about Gabe…”
“Julie!” I say.
“I know, I meant to, I really did. But I started explaining about how I wasn’t sure that we were right together, and then he launched into his side of the story, and then we got talking about his mum, and somehow… somehow it felt like I didn’t really need to tell him that Gabe and I are getting back together. I will tell him, though, when I’m back home.”
“And where did you stay last night?” I can tell from Julie’s manner that she’s not telling me something. She goes red. “Oh, Julie. You didn’t…”
“I did… it, well, we just got really close again, and it felt so intense, and romantic and…”
“Bloody hell, Julie.” I feel really annoyed at her. Why can’t people just be honest?
There is no time to continue our conversation. The first guests are seating themselves at their table; they are a fifty-something couple, staying for the week, who behave like newly-weds, but they say they’re rediscovering each other since their children have now left home. It’s more information that I need, to be honest, but I kind of like the way they are so into each other.
The dining room soon fills up and the only words Julie and I exchange are about food orders. We keep a distance from each other; she, I think, because she knows I’m annoyed at her and I think she is probably a bit ashamed. Me because I can’t be held responsible for what I say so it’s best if I don’t say anything.
I’m on reception and busying myself identifying any empty rooms we can advertise at a slightly reduced price when the front door opens. “There she is!” I hear a very familiar man’s voice say.
“Dad!”
I exclaim, then, “Mum!” My parents are walking in, pulling suitcases on wheels. “We got an earlier train, we wanted to see you at work!”
“It’s so good to see you,” I say, confused that I feel like crying. I give them both an enthusiastic hug then Bea comes out to say hello.
“It’s great to meet you,” she says. “Do you know, of all the people I’ve had working here over the years, your daughter – and Julie – really stand out to me. I’m very grateful you’ve let me borrow her again.”
“Not down to us, I’m afraid,” Dad smiles at me proudly, “this girl knows her own mind!”
“Dad,” I feel my cheeks growing red. It’s funny how having your parents in your place of work makes you feel – like you can’t be the professional, well-honed person you have become but instead you’re their little girl again.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Bea says. “Can’t distract the staff! If you settle in and have a cup of coffee, you can come and relax in our lounge if you want to; it’s got a terrace with a great sea view. Alice can come and find you when her shift’s over, if that’s OK.”
“Of course, can’t interrupt the worker,” Dad says.
Mum gives me an apologetic look. “We’ll see you in a bit!”
The rest of the morning passes quickly. Julie has not emerged from the kitchen, although Charlie, who works with her, left some time ago. I feel like I should clear the air before she and Mum and Dad get together. I know my parents are sitting out on the terrace because I can hear Dad’s Black Country accent drifting in through the open doors. I sneak to the kitchen and find Julie leaning against one of the counters, staring off into space. My entrance startles her.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
“You must think I’m an absolute idiot,” she says.
A Second Chance Summer Page 16
