The Last Charm: The most page-turning and emotional summer romance fiction of 2020!

by Ella Allbright

  It only takes a moment for Dad to attach the new charm to my bracelet, and when I shake my wrist to admire it, it’s like it’s always been there. Like it’s always belonged and was simply waiting for me to catch up. The thought is bittersweet, but I choose to focus on the feeling of joy.

  ‘Now –’ Dad breaks our sombre mood ‘– your grandad isn’t back until later, and you don’t want to eat. It’s your birthday. What shall we do?’

  Standing up, I drain my glass and force myself to swallow. I feel like I’m still at sea, swaying. How long does the feeling take to go away? ‘I have an idea,’ I say. ‘If you promise to drive very slowly and we can have the windows down the entire journey.’

  ‘Of course.’ Grabbing his van keys off the side, he stands expectantly.

  ***

  Forty-five minutes later, we roll up in the car park at Durdle Door.

  ‘Oof, thank God that’s over.’ I tumble out of the van and turn to Dad. ‘You coming for a walk on the beach? The views are amazing.’

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll sit here and read the paper with my tea.’ He holds up his thermos.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘That’s unless you want company?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. Honestly.’ The sun is blinding, and I’ve had to put sunglasses on to deal with it. Neither of us has ever been great in the heat with our fair hair. ‘Besides, if I was desperate for company, I could have brought Fleur.’ With my hangover, I couldn’t face the thought of trying to rein in her exuberance. For a moment I wonder if this is the best idea, but the thought of sitting on the stones with the Door to my left and the sea gently lapping the shore with a fresh breeze in my face pulls at me. I grab a bottle of water and a flapjack from the cool-box in the footwell. ‘See you in a bit.’

  A short while later, I descend the steps set into the hill to the side of the famous archway, panting lightly. I can’t wait to collapse on the beach. My legs are trembling and it’s possible the water I drank on the way down will make a reappearance. But the sea is relatively calm, the breeze I was longing for stirring my hair and kissing my cheeks. The cool air is refreshing and for a split second before the nausea returns, I don’t feel so rotten.

  Taking a deep breath as I step down onto the shingled beach, I gaze across the multi-coloured stones and pause. ‘Great.’ Someone else I need to apologise to, for acting like an idiot last night. On the upside, at least I know he’s not dead.

  Jake

  31 August 2008

  Jake’s listening to music when he sees her. Sitting upright, he groans. He came here to think. What she’s doing here? He needs more time to come up with a proper excuse for jumping overboard before seeing her again. He still can’t understand why he did something so showy and embarrassing. He stripped in front of her for God’s sake. It’s not as if he’d had too much to drink. He’d only had a pint, to pace himself. He’s lost the taste for alcohol while at sea. Not like some of his fellow officers.

  Being in the Marines has taught him to think strategically and see the bigger picture, not to act on impulse. He makes quick decisions under fire if he needs to. But she wasn’t holding a gun to his head, was she? He can’t use that excuse.

  He pulls the buds from his ears as she traipses towards him.

  ‘Hi. Mind if I sit?’ She points to the stones beside him.

  To Jake, she looks weary and pale, but the floaty white skirt and red vest top suit her. Wearing sunglasses, with her silvery hair in a loose plait hanging over one shoulder, she also looks younger. Like when they first met. ‘Sure,’ he replies.

  She sits down facing the horizon, chucking a bottle of water and a plastic-wrapped flapjack between them. ‘Thanks.’

  They’re silent a moment, both staring out to sea and watching the sunlight glimmer on the caps of the water. A few people are walking along the shore, but it’s too early for the arrival of families, so it’s not that busy. The white breakers are crashing onto the shore along the gently curved bay.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ she whispers.

  ‘Yeah,’ he agrees, tilting his head to sneak a peek at her. ‘It is. What are you doing here?’

  Looking down, she gathers up a handful of tiny stones, transferring them idly from one hand to the other, watching as the browns, beiges, and whites blend together and then fall apart. After a moment, she drops them and glances at him. ‘I come here quite a lot. It’s a bit of a drive, and the climb back to the car park is a bitch, but the views and sense of calm are amazing. Sometimes I come to draw or paint if I need a change of scenery from our back garden.’

  ‘Cool.’ He nods slowly, not wanting to tell her it’s one of his favourite places in the world, in case it feels like he’s stealing it from her.

  Her gaze flits up over his trainers, jeans, and grey T-shirt. She frowns. ‘Is that last night’s outfit?’

  ‘No!’ But he rubs a hand over his stubble, checking to make sure he’s not too shaggy. He’s not going to tell her he spent half the night on the beach, unable to settle at the B&B just along the coastal path.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Leila insists. ‘You didn’t, like, swim all the way from the boat to Durdle Door, did you?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Jones. I’m a strong swimmer, but that would be bloody ridiculous.’

  ‘Don’t call me silly!’ She snaps, before wincing and putting a hand to her forehead. ‘Sorry. I feel terrible, I’m not in the best mood. Still … that would be bloody ridiculous,’ she imitates him, ‘you sound like a head teacher sometimes. How’s that even possible when you came from up north originally?’

  ‘We moved around a lot,’ he replies. ‘Okay?’

  ‘O-kay.’ She drawls it in an American accent, like she’s off some teen soap. ‘So, what are you listening to?’ Nodding to the leads looped around his neck.

  ‘Oasis. I’m going back to my Britpop roots. I’ve been listening to it a lot on the ship.’

  ‘You can’t go wrong with Britpop.’ She smiles, before flinching and putting a hand up to massage her temple. ‘But aren’t you a bit young? I mean, we were hardly teenagers when Oasis, Blur, and Pulp were having their day. I wasn’t even school age for most of it.’

  ‘I’m nearly two years older than you,’ he reminds her, ‘and it was what Dad listened to.’

  ‘How are things with him?’

  He can feel his face drop. ‘Not good,’ he says curtly.

  ‘And your mum? Does she ever … think of leaving?’ She asks in a hesitant voice, watching his expression.

  He’s never told Leila everything, but from her question he knows that she knows, and he feels a burning sensation spread across his face.

  ‘I saw the way he was with you,’ she adds gently, ‘and a mark on your mum’s face once. Sometimes I hear raised voices, and she hardly ever leaves the house. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what goes on.’

  The flush on his face burns brighter. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but he is.

  He studies Leila’s face. There’s nothing but compassion in it and her dark grey eyes are soft. Taking a breath, he decides to trust her. ‘She won’t go – she’s too scared he might track her down – and she won’t let me call the police. That’s not the way we do things in our family.’ He sighs, ‘We did try once, last year. I sent her my signing-up bonus. It was a lot. Would have been enough for her to start a new life, rent somewhere while she looked for a new job or signed up for a qualification. But he took it all –’ he shakes his head ‘– every last penny. I’m saving up again, but it’ll take a while. I pay the mortgage so there’s not always a lot left.’

  ‘You pay their mortgage?’

  Jake laughs bitterly. ‘As soon as I joined the Navy and he worked out I was earning a decent living, he told me I had to unless I wanted something to happen to her.’

  She gasps. ‘Oh, Jake. I’m so sorry. That’s awful. What an absolute … Actually, there aren’t even words to describe him, are there?’

  ‘No,’ he says grimly, ‘there re
ally aren’t. So, the best I can do is visit when I can and keep working towards a way to set her free. It’s difficult.’

  ‘I hardly ever see you home on shore leave.’

  ‘That’s because most of the time I stay in the house. He doesn’t go out much, just drinks.’

  ‘Oh, Jake,’ she repeats. Pulling a face, ‘Have you ever confronted him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How come?’ She turns to face him more fully, frowning. ‘I mean, you must be trained and everything—’

  ‘Because, Jones,’ he shoots back, her questions making him defensive, ‘I’m worried that if it began it wouldn’t end, and I might kill him.’

  A silence falls, and she gulps, her eyes wide. He closes his, unable to believe he admitted the thought out loud. Unable to believe he has let her see him for who he really is. Damaged, angry.

  ‘Sorry.’ They speak at the same time, and he opens his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry – I wasn’t judging you.’ She shuffles closer, tilting her face up to his, surprising him. ‘I understand, and I don’t blame you for feeling that way. Most people would.’

  ‘You’re not disgusted? I thought you’d be morally outraged, Jones. Especially after that time at the beach, when you accused me of being like him.’

  ‘That’s different,’ she answers in a low voice. ‘Defending someone else isn’t the same as beating someone to a pulp because you want to show off, have lost control, or get a kick out of being a bully. Besides, I told you I should never have said that. I was just angry that night. Anyway, the point is you’re not the bad guy here.’

  He shifts on the stones, creating distance between them. The last thing he wants is her pity. He hates the idea of her thinking of him as powerless against his father. Plus, he doesn’t want her getting dragged into the mess that is his family. ‘Look, I appreciate you listening, but can we talk about something else? Something a bit happier?’

  She crosses her arms and looks away from him to the rocks poking out of the slate sea. ‘Sure,’ she whispers, ‘and don’t worry, I won’t say anything.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He didn’t think for a moment she would. Trustworthiness is one of the things he likes about her. He also likes how kind she is. He clears his throat. ‘So, happy actual birthday, Jones. Did you have fun last night?’

  ‘Thanks. I think so.’ She grimaces, reaching for the bottle of water between them. ‘I’m not sure I remember all of it. I know I had a lot to drink, because I feel pretty crap this morning. But I’m sure it’ll pass eventually.’ Her skin pales further as she unscrews the bottle lid and takes a swig.

  Smiling, he grabs a stone and pulls his arm right back to hurl it into the curling waves. ‘Most things do.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Sighing, she adjusts her sunglasses. ‘Listen—’

  At the same time, he says, ‘About last night—’

  Laughing uneasily, they fall silent. ‘Go on,’ he prompts.

  She removes her glasses and squints at him, looking shame-faced. ‘I was going to say I’m sorry. For daring you to swim to shore. I was drunk and shouldn’t have said it. It was stupid, and I should have known you’d want to prove your point. I can’t believe you actually did it though.’ She pauses, staring at him. ‘I was worried.’

  ‘You’ve nothing to say sorry for. I’m in charge of my own destiny. If I didn’t want to jump, I wouldn’t have. I must admit though, it was a bit of a dick move. I mean, stripping and everything …’ He laughs uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. But it made you laugh, right?’

  ‘I did find it pretty amusing, if not a little scary.’ Shaking her head. ‘I may not owe you a sorry, but I had to send a lot of apology texts out this morning.’

  He says nothing, just cocks his head and waits.

  ‘You’re not going to ask who to?’

  ‘Well, I won’t pretend I’m not curious. But if you want to tell me, you will.’

  ‘Wait. Is there a sensitive soul hiding under that rough exterior?’ she teases.

  He self-consciously rubs a finger over his scar. ‘Absolutely not. Don’t be stupid.’

  Her eyes track the movement of his finger, and he drops his hand. ‘You can deny it, Jake, but you do everything you can to help your mum. You’ve got a good heart.’

  He doesn’t reply, having no intention of following the rabbit down that particular conversational hole again. He leans back to look up at the sky. The sun’s getting brighter and hotter, and he thinks Leila feels it too, a line of sweat beading on her top lip. She wipes it away with the back of her hand when she catches him looking. Closing her eyes, she sways.

  ‘Are you going to be sick?’ he asks. ‘If you are, try not to do it in my direction.’

  ‘Thanks for the reminder. I’ll try my best,’ she says wryly. ‘It’s just hot and I’m hung over. This wasn’t the way I planned to spend my birthday, you know. Still, at least I can look forward to seeing Grandad later.’

  ‘Ray.’ He smiles. ‘He’s on a fishing trip today, right?’

  ‘Yep. How do you know?’ She gazes at him.

  ‘I saw him packing up his fishing gear yesterday morning.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘So, this year’s charm?’ Putting a finger out, he traces a line down the little key where it hangs from the bracelet. ‘The most expensive one so far.’

  ‘Looks like it.’ Moving her arm away, she touches a hand to her wrist, tugging on the clasp to make sure it’s secure.

  It annoys him how she pulls away from him. He knows he has his off days, and his scar, but he’s not that hideous, is he?

  ‘Well, you’re quite the golden girl, aren’t you?’ He mocks in retaliation. ‘After doing so well with your A-levels, uni place, posh boyfriend, and everything. Let me guess, you’re going to the same uni and will stay in halls together until you can afford your own flat. Then you’ll get married,’ he clasps his hands, puts them under his chin and flutters his eyelashes, ‘and have the perfect two-point-four children and live happily ever—’

  ‘Jake, that’s enough. It’s my birthday and I feel like shit.’ She blinks rapidly and sticks her sunglasses back on. ‘FYI, Cameron and I are going to different universities, and right now I’m really not sure if a long-distance relationship is going to work.’ She sucks in her cheeks. ‘Maybe I’ll just go and sit by myself. I don’t need these kinds of comments today.’ Planting her hands either side of her, she pushes off the stones.

  At the same time, he grabs a handful of her red top, and yanks her straight back down.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ll be nice,’ he says quickly. ‘I’ve only got a few days’ shore leave, and everything feels a bit weird. Like I don’t quite fit. I hope my jumping off the boat didn’t cause any trouble?’

  ‘Yeah, I get that feeling most of the time,’ she admits, to his surprise. ‘And don’t worry, your night-time excursion just gave people something to talk about. Owen couldn’t wait to go down and tell everyone what you’d done. And Chloe was gutted she missed you taking your clothes off.’

  ‘She was?’ He arches an eyebrow.

  ‘Yep, something about James Bond,’ she murmurs, switching her attention back to the horizon, and clearly not wanting to go into it.

  ‘You really feel like you don’t fit in?’ He holds up the bottle of water, nudging her to drink again.

  She slides it from his hand and takes some small sips. ‘Oh, all the time.’

  ‘But, why?’

  She squints. ‘It’s hard to explain.’ Holding a hand to her mouth, she gulps. ‘Ugh, this hangover can’t be over soon enough.’

  ‘Have some of this; you’ll feel better for it.’ Unwrapping the flapjack, he offers it to her.

  She takes a bite, chewing carefully. Once she’s swallowed, she stares at him, about to say something. But at that moment, Henry comes tripping down the stairs, panting and red-faced. His fringe is stuck sweatily to his forehead and he’s waving a mobile phone in the air. ‘Love. I’ve
been trying to get hold of you. What were you doing? You, you weren’t … answering … your … phone …’

  ‘Dad? What is it?’ Racing up to him with Jake in pursuit, she grabs her dad’s arm.

  ‘It’s Ray.’ Henry’s face says it all.

  ‘What?’ Leila demands, fingers tightening on his wrist.

  ‘He had a heart attack, on the boat. They’ve brought him back to shore.’

  Jake and Leila stare at Henry in horror.

  ‘A-and?’ Leila is trembling.

  Her dad puts his arm around her shoulders, face crumpling. ‘He’s on the way to Dorchester Hospital. We’ve got to go. Now.’

  Leila

  September 2008

  The Bereavement Charm

  The melodic piano intro of Avril Lavigne’s ‘When You’re Gone’ begins and I feel my heart spasm and thud-thud-thud in my chest. Swaying, I clutch the dark wooden pew in front of me. I can’t see it because of the tears blinding my vision, but know it’s there because I can touch it. There are some things in this world you can’t touch though; you just need to rely on faith that they’re there. Like Grandad, gone too soon. I hope he’s watching over us.

  Six ushers, mostly ex-military men, are carrying Grandad’s coffin towards the altar on their shoulders in slow measured steps. I wonder idly if their deliberate gait is the same as the one brides use to make their way up the aisle, and realise that if I’m ever a bride my grandad won’t be around to see it. He’ll never see me paint new scenes, or have children if I decide I want them, or live my life. A sob rises from my stomach, up through my chest, and falls out of my mouth. The coffin hasn’t reached us yet, but it will soon.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s gone,’ I choke, shifting my gaze to Dad, standing beside me still and silent. ‘How can he be gone?’

  ‘I know, love.’ When he puts his arm around me, stretching the already snug formal black suit across his wide body, I lean into him, drawing strength from his solid presence.