Her eyes glistened. “As you know Josh left me.” I nodded. “It was because I was pregnant and he didn’t want it.”
A tear snaked from the corner of her eye which she dabbed with the heel of her palm. Behind us Kim stood with Jason, pointing out to sea, making sure he faced away from us.
My attention turned back to Lucy, pregnant and alone. I put my arm round her.
“When he left he said – well he sort-of said – that he’d come back if I got rid. So, I did.”
She buried her face into my chest. I could feel her jerking sobs. “Don’t tell anyone. They’ll think I’m terrible. I didn’t want to kill it.”
Oh my! Poor, poor Lucy. As my surroundings blurred, I pulled her tight. Tears burned my cheeks. There was no going back on this, but we could help her move forward.
“No one will think badly of you,” I said. “Not me, not your dad. No one.”
She shot from my arms. “I don’t want him to know.”
“You need to speak to someone.”
“Mum knows. And Emily.” She hesitated. “And now you.”
Marie knew. This morning I’d found out about Marie’s drunkenness and how Lucy had kept it hidden. Now, I learned that Lucy’s relationship with Marie had grown strong enough for her to trust and confide in her mum. I was glad for them. It also made me less worried about Emily. She wouldn’t be there to support Lucy alone.
“I’m so sorry this has happened to you but, believe me, you’ve done nothing other than try to keep someone you loved.”
“And I lost them both.”
I gave her another cuddle, holding strong against a sudden squall. The others had reached the headland and Emily was frantically signalling for us to come over.
“Hurry up!” Her voice carried in the air.
“I won’t say anything to your dad for now. But you told him about splitting up, so please trust him enough to tell him the rest. He loves you very much.”
Lucy swiped her arm across her face and sniffed. Only her reddened eyes gave any idea of her swirling emotions. If anyone asked, we’d blame the wind.
As we neared the others, Emily raced over and tugged Lucy towards the edge. I wished they wouldn’t stand so close, especially with it being so blustery, but I fought back my anxiety.
“Look! Down there. Dolphins!” Emily pointed.
A grey body arced from the white-tipped waves, followed by three companions. I’d seen the resident seals down by the harbour, cormorants galore and too many gulls to count, but not dolphins, although some of our guests had been lucky enough to spot them. After the shock of learning about Lucy, I couldn’t appreciate them. My mind was in turmoil. Torringham was amazing. Where else could a short walk involve a quaint harbour, a modern marina, lush woodland, rocky landscapes, huge fortifications on one of the most stunning headlands in England. But our children would soon be miles away. And when they needed us, we’d be tied to a business we couldn’t leave.
Jason’s hiss broke into my thoughts. “Have you been upsetting Lucy again?”
“What? No!”
He shook his finger at me. “It’s not Lucy’s fault Emily is leaving.”
“For goodness’ sake, Dad!” Lucy butted in. “Leave her alone. She’s been nice to me and it wasn’t her fault last night either. It was me being a moody cow. You need to stop jumping to conclusions.”
And with that advice, she stomped off, leaving Jason open-mouthed, while I just shrugged and followed her.
Chapter 9
The car rumbled off down the road, the occupants obscured from view by a mound of cases and other jumble stashed in the back, only Lucy’s hand visible as she waved goodbye. I prayed she would remember Jason’s words about driving carefully, especially with all the added weight. Kim gave me a hug and I returned it with a weak smile. I dared not speak as a huge ball of hurt had lodged itself in my throat. Emily had gone! Not only that but we wouldn’t be able to see her until the end of the summer season, months away. I hoped she would keep her word about coming to visit soon.
“A bit like watching a child going off to Uni,” Kim said.
“Except Uni students go back home after a few years.” Shona echoed my earlier thoughts. “Though that’s not always good. Ten years later and Mum still can’t get rid of my brother.”
When the car disappeared out of view, Kim turned to us. “Shona’s got a friend with a boat. Why don’t the two of you join us on it. Name an afternoon next week when you haven’t got check-ins.”
Jason frowned. “It’s a no for me. Once our guest goes we’ve got to close room six as the shower sounds like it’s about to blow up. I might as well retile at the same time, so that’s another week of my life gone.”
“If nothing goes wrong,” I said.
Over one hundred years of bodgers and make-doers at Flotsam made every job a nightmare. Mending a leak and plumbing a new shower sounded easy but beneath the floorboards there’d be a century of grit and dust strewn amongst a maze of lead pipes – some cut off mid-length just to create confusion – that jostled for space with newer copper and plastic pipework. With all the bends and pipes going off in different directions, some terminating in inexplicable places, our plumbing could have been based on London’s tube map.
“You could go.” Jason said.
“Won’t you need me?”
“I can call on Mike. Anyhow, you keep saying you could do with a break. Just wear a life jacket.”
We stepped aside as a woman in a mobility scooter trundled past. She gave us a cheery wave. Along each side she’d strung posters that flapped like bunting. ‘Four Bugs’ were performing live at The Boar. Jason shook his head.
“And Emily thought it was too boring here. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
♦
I couldn’t find a day without any arrivals for more than a fortnight, but we decided the following Wednesday would be fine as the couple checking-in had advised they wouldn’t be arriving until seven o’clock that evening. Thanks to the delivery of shower panels arriving late, Jason was running behind with the work on the ensuite. He needed to get a move on. In four days we had guests booked for the room and, with a full house, nowhere else to put them.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time to deal with the check-in,” I said.
“I hope so. Give me a hand with these before you disappear.”
Once I’d helped carry the shower panels into the room, I hurried across to Jetsam Cottage to find Shona coming out. She used her key to shut the door, so it didn’t bang.
“Kim can’t come. We’ve got washing machine problems, so she’s got to wait for the engineer.”
“We can go another day.”
“Don’t be daft.” She hooked her arm into mine and all but dragged me down the road. “Two pm already. We haven’t much time.”
“Sorry. The rooms took ages.”
She shrugged. “You think this is tough. Wait until July and August. Nothing like constant twelve-hour days. One hundred-and-forty days last year between days off. Can you believe it? You’ll be dead on your feet by October.”
If Shona and Kim had been exhausted after a season with just five rooms, what would we be like with the two of us running eight with all the maintenance on top?
She saw my face and chuckled. “Let’s not talk work. Today is meant to be about cheering you up.”
♦
Shona pointed to a small white and blue boat moored on the pontoon. It had an outboard motor, which I was pleased about. I didn’t relish the thought of rowing; something I hadn’t done since college when, after a few too many down the Students’ Union bar, we’d decided it would be great fun to hire a boat. It wasn’t. I got landed with the oars, while my friends sat back to enjoy the scenery. They didn’t get to see much as I kept going in circles, which my drink-filled mates – and just about every onlooker – found hilarious.
Now, stepping gingerly into the wobbling boat, I clutched the side to keep my balance. A pair of oars lay in
the bottom while stashed beneath the seat sat two small lifejackets. I put mine on.
“Stay in the middle and hold this tight.” Shona handed me a length of rope. Once she’d got in, she unlooped the rope from the mooring post and dropped it into the boat. “All set!”
She positioned herself at the rear, beside the outboard motor, and pulled the string. Nothing. Gritting her teeth with effort, she tugged the cord again. The engine belted out choking fumes and spluttered into silence.
“I hate this flippin’ motor. I can never get it started.”
Two men leaned against the sea wall, facing our way, although with their sunglasses and baseball caps it was difficult to tell whether they watched us. One flicked a cigarette end into the water and a gull wheeled by to investigate. As a flushed Shona swore and yanked the motor, one of the men pointed in our direction. His laughter echoed around. Unable to face the indignity of abandoning our boat trip before it started, or worse, having to row, I willed the motor into life. Thankfully, when Shona tried again, it fired into action. She grinned victoriously.
As she eased the boat from the mooring, I thought to give the men a little wave, but Shona beat me to it by jabbing her middle finger at them. “Twats.”
I grimaced, wishing she’d shown a little more restraint.
“I know,” she shouted. “But sometimes it has to be done.”
Only the clatter of metal from men working on moored trawlers rose above the outboard motor. It drowned the sound of the gulls, the slap of waves and our voices. We didn’t speak as Shona manoeuvred the little boat between the anchored yachts in the outer harbour before heading out into the bay. Although the breeze buffeted us, it couldn’t fend off the warm sun and it wasn’t long before I took off my cardigan and stretched out my pale arms. It would be good to catch a few rays.
The colourful harbour with its Balamory cottages now shimmered in the distance. The landscape became a green vista; trees dotting the sloped grassland before it turned to barren rocks splashed by waves. Two fishermen stood at the edge, a dog curled on a grassy knoll behind them. Shona curved the boat round their lines.
I shuffled closer to Shona, making sure to keep in the centre of the small boat, and shouted over the din of the engine.
“It’s a shame we can’t get out more often. It’s so lovely here.”
“You took a lot on with that place.”
The noise of the boat swallowed my sigh. “A bit more than I’d imagined. If we’re not cooking breakfasts, we’re cleaning, then there’s the washing and ironing, the setting up, the check-ins, the admin, the maintenance work. I thought we’d be doing more of this, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
I don’t know if she heard everything but she caught the gist.
“Do you regret it?”
I shrugged. What would I say? Emily had gone. Jason and I didn’t talk as much as we used to. Although Shona was becoming a good friend, I felt disloyal speaking about Jason behind his back. But it didn’t stop me thinking about how our relationship had changed. Living and working together meant we didn’t have proper conversations any more. We’d been closer in our old jobs, even though we’d seen little of each other during the week. Then there was his recent behaviour when Lucy came to stay. No matter how distant Lucy and I had been before, I’d never been anything but considerate to her. But he’d acted as if he had to protect her from me. Thank goodness she’d put him right.
“Kim and I had a tough time at first.” Shona’s holler threw me from my thoughts. “It will get better.”
“That’s good.” I did the thumbs-up in case sign language helped.
“Give it a few years. You’ll be knackered, you may even have worked yourself to death, but you’ll have a good business.”
I smiled. We’d chosen to buy a B&B with eight letting rooms as we needed the income, but we’d also had to buy one that required renovation as anything in good condition was outside our budget. Put simply, we should have waited a few more years to get onto a sounder financial footing before stepping into the world of the self-employed.
“Look!” Shona pointed towards a small cove. “Can you spot the seal?”
I had to shield my eyes to see. Sure enough, a black head protruded from the glittering water. What a shame Emily wasn’t here to see it. Both she and Lucy would have loved being so close to a wild seal. As Shona edged the boat closer, I thought it would swim away but it just floated there, soaking in the sun’s rays, with a smile on its face. She cut the engine and silence flooded us.
“It’s grinning!” I found myself shouting.
Shona chuckled. “I’ll get a picture.”
She patted the pockets of her jeans, then rifled through her jacket. “Oh great! I’ve flipping gone and left my phone behind.”
I pulled mine out. “I’ll get some pics and send them to you.”
The seal didn’t care that we bobbed beside it. Twice it lowered its head and turned glistening charcoal eyes upon us but then it would lazily lift its nose back to the sky to become an oily rock jutting from the sea.
I could have stayed all day, but it didn’t feel right encroaching on its space. After a hat-trick of attempts to start the motor, we chugged onwards again. I watched the seal with its wonderful upturned mouth and secretive smile until it disappeared from view. Tracing the contour of the land, we travelled past thick woodland that swept down the hillside to almost touch the sea but for a strip of barren outcrops. Through the clear water I could see the sea bed and more than once I found myself holding my breath as the boat appeared to almost skim the rocks below. In the hour or so since we’d left, the tide had ebbed further, revealing lime green algae and dark fronds of seaweed blanketing the boulders at the water’s edge.
Shona half-closed her eyes and lifted her head towards the sun, the spikey tips of her hair softened by the breeze. My chin rested on my arms as I leant against the edge to stare into the depths, rewarded by the sight of dozens of tiny fish darting below.
We moved onwards, past another cove, and another, the countryside transforming into a rolling pasture which swept down to a sandy beach, lined by colourful beach huts. Above the sound of the engine came excited squeals from children racing into the water.
“They’re mad,” Shona shouted. Her first words in ages.
I glanced at my mobile phone, shocked to see it was gone five. We’d meandered along the coastline to get here, but even a direct return journey would be at least an hour with our lawnmower speed.
“We need to get back.” I gestured towards Torringham, finding sign language a useful addition with the racket of the outboard motor. “I promised Jason I’d be there for the seven o’ clock check in.”
Her face fell. “I wouldn’t have come out this far if I’d realised. Are you okay if we go via Penfold Cove, the one we just passed? I promised Kim I’d get a photo of the old lime kiln. She’s got this idea about wanting to paint it for our hallway.”
“I didn’t know she could paint.”
Shona shrugged. “A woman of many talents, my Kim. How come Jason can’t do the check-in?”
She turned to face the shoreline, her mouth set in a thin line. Her earlier silence seemed to have brewed a strange moodiness. Or maybe she was getting tired. After all, we’d been out for a while. The sun’s warmth had dimmed and goose-bumps prickled my arms. Shivering in anticipation of the cooling dusk, I hitched my cardigan over my shoulders.
“He could. Just that I said I’d be back by then. What time is Kim expecting you?” The constant shouting hurt the back of my throat. I longed for quiet. For the throbbing noise to cease.
“She doesn’t know I’m out. Well she will by now. We had a row about the washing machine and I told her if she didn’t shut up, I’d bugger off. So, when she went on and on about it, I did exactly that.”
“Shona!” I felt terrible. What must Kim think of me for going off without her, even though I had no idea about the row. “You said she chose to stay at home.”
“Tha
t’s why I need the pic.” Shona rubbed the back of her neck and winced. She pulled her hand away to reveal a sunburned strip. “She wanted to come out today to get a good photo of the kiln with the woodland behind. Let’s just pop there quickly.”
She eased the boat around and we set off towards Penfold Cove, skirting the rocks until we drew close enough to see the lime kiln tucked in a clump of bushes just beyond the pebble beach.
“My phone isn’t good enough.” I leaned forward but even with the zoom on maximum the kiln could barely be distinguished on camera from the limestone rocks which loomed behind.
“I’ll get a bit closer,” Shona said.
Boulders glistened inches below the boat. If I put my arm over the side, I could touch them. We couldn’t go further in.
“No, don’t!”
The boat rocked as I edged along the middle to the prow, where I knelt down to lean out as far as I dared to take a photo. Better that than we ended up scraping the hull or getting marooned. But as I stretched out, we became caught in the wake of a passing speedboat and our little boat lurched from side to side. I grabbed the edge to stop myself toppling in, horrified to find the phone slipping through my fingers and splashing into the water.
“Flamin’ heck!” was Shona’s helpful response.
The phone shimmered on the rocks below. I tore off my cardigan, gasping in shock as I plunged my arm into the freezing water. Just as I’d thought, the rocks were within touching distance and I managed to grab the phone, thankful to see it still had a picture. But no matter how much I jabbed, I couldn’t make the touch screen work.
“I guess I won’t be able to give Kim a photo of the lime kiln now,” Shona said.
I wiped the phone across my jeans and pressed the screen again. Nothing.
“I guess you won’t.”
She gazed despondently at the beach. “May as well go then.”
As she turned the tiller to manoeuvre the boat away, the engine spluttered and died. I watched helplessly as Shona yanked the pull cord again and again, until she slumped down, head in hands. For hours we’d lived with the tang of petrol and the noise. Now we could hear the slap of the waves, the gulls calling, the drone of a passing jet ski. I’d wished for peace and it had come true.
Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse Page 7
