So they had just about managed to survive, financially. But it was hard work on Sheila, who dealt with the clients: Mick was a man of few words and didn’t have the patience to deal with a lot of them. He stayed behind the scenes, doing maintenance and running repairs.
And keeping the farm shipshape was expensive. There were hedges and fences and walls to be maintained. The potholes in the drive to be tarmac-ed. The kennel maids’ wages to be paid. Insurance. Public liability. They had barely broken even the past few years. If they hadn’t sold the Linhay to Robyn and Jake, they’d be in serious trouble, and that money was running out now, as he had seen when he’d been through the accounts. It made him feel sick.
There was one obvious solution, but he wasn’t sure if he was brave enough. Or if he had the right. There had been a Moss at Hawksworthy for four generations. But one thing was becoming clear to him: neither Robyn nor Clover would want to take over the farm.
Now probably wasn’t the time to discuss it. Not with everyone milling about and Mick trying not to singe the mackerel. He’d take him for a quiet pint. Maybe next week—
‘Hey, everyone – can I have your attention for a second?’
Mick looked over to see Jake standing on the steps of the Shedquarters, holding up a glass of Clover’s mojito and tinging his fork against the rim. He felt a needle of anxiety. Ever since the cows, he tended to fear the worst.
Gradually the chatter stopped and everyone looked over at Jake. Robyn glided over and stood at the bottom of the steps underneath him. In a floral playsuit and her hair in plaits, she looked no older than her sister.
‘Um … me and Robyn have got a little bit of news for you.’ Jake looked sheepish.
‘Very little,’ added Robyn.
‘About this size, in fact.’ Jake circled his thumb and middle finger. ‘We kept it quiet until we were sure everything was OK this morning. At our twelve-week scan.’
Robyn held up the photograph. ‘And if you want evidence, here it is.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Sheila. ‘She’s having a baby.’
‘Get on!’ said Mick, flooded with relief.
‘Shit!’ said Clover. ‘I’m going to be an aunt.’ She banged Ethan on the back. ‘Hey, you’re going to be an uncle.’
Rocky stood stock still with a beer in one hand and a fish slice in the other. A grandfather. He was going to be a grandfather.
Sheila ran over to her daughter and folded her in her arms.
‘Oh, my lovely girl. Oh, congratulations.’ She hugged her tight, her eyes closed. ‘Have you been all right? Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I’m fine,’ Robyn smiled. ‘I didn’t want to jinx it. Or worry you.’
‘Worry me?’ Sheila laughed. ‘I’m not going to let you out of my sight.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it. I’ve never really thought about being a granny.’
‘You’re not too shocked, are you?’
‘I’m thrilled to bloody bits.’ Sheila looked proud.
‘That’s why you haven’t drunk any of my mojito! I thought it was weird.’ Clover was staring at her sister, fascinated. ‘Can I see the picture? Do you know what it is yet?’
Robyn handed her the scan photo. ‘It’s too early to know.’
Mick hovered on the sidelines until Robyn noticed him and caught his eye. She wriggled past Clover and slid into her dad’s arms.
‘I’m proud of you, girl,’ he said, gruffly. ‘You’ll be a good mother.’
‘I still can’t believe it.’
‘Well, you know we’re here. We’ll do what we can.’
He never said much, her dad, but she knew there was a lot of emotion underlying his words.
‘I know, Dad. And thank you. You’ve already done so much, with the Linhay.’
‘Ah, you bought that fair and square.’
‘I know. But no way would we be able to afford somewhere like that otherwise.’
Mick put his hand on her back and patted her to indicate she didn’t need to say any more. He couldn’t, because he could feel tears clogging up his throat. And he wasn’t a man who cried in public.
‘I think they’re happy,’ said Jake to Robyn a little later, when everyone had time to digest the news and was sitting down to eat. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Definitely,’ said Robyn. ‘And so am I. Aren’t you?’
Jake put his hand in his pocket and felt for the little box. Now wasn’t the moment. He’d wait until everyone had gone.
‘Of course I am,’ he replied. ‘This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
6
‘Well, I didn’t see that coming,’ said Sheila on the drive home. ‘I can usually spot the signs a mile off.’
Sheila had midwifed quite a few litters of puppies over the years at Hawksworthy Farm. She could tell if a bitch was in kindle or not early on, so she was puzzled not to have seen the signs in Robyn.
‘Yeah, but Robyn’s not a dog, is she?’ pointed out Mick, quite reasonably. ‘And I guess she was trying to keep it quiet.’
‘I still don’t understand why, though.’ She opened the glove compartment and pulled out a packet of butter mints, unwrapping two and handing one to Mick. ‘I am her mum.’
She put the other mint in her own mouth.
‘I expect she just didn’t want to worry you until she knew it was all OK,’ Mick told her. ‘She knows how busy you are.’ And how much you worry, he added in his head.
‘Do you think it’ll get her thinking?’ Sheila leaned forward to turn the heating up.
Mick didn’t answer for a moment. Sheila was agitated. He could tell by her fiddling. Although he had wondered the same. But he wanted to reassure her.
‘It’s lovely news. Don’t spoil it.’
‘Oh, I’m not going to let it spoil anything,’ said Sheila quickly. ‘I’m thrilled to bits. Of course I am.’
‘Yep. It’s good they’re cracking on with it. I don’t hold with this waiting-till-you’re-forty lark.’
‘You can’t say that kind of thing, Mick.’ Sheila teased, nudging him with her elbow.
Mick shrugged. He knew his views weren’t modern, but they were his.
‘I just wish I wasn’t so busy,’ sighed Sheila. ‘I’m not going to be much help. Their business is just getting off the ground. She can’t afford to take a back seat.’
‘You worry too much. She’ll sort it out. She knows what she’s doing.’
Sheila was quiet for a moment.
‘I don’t like the thought of her baby having to go to a nursery.’
‘Most kids do these days.’
‘I want to be there for her.’
‘We will be.’
‘I want the baby to have the best start in life. After what happened to Robyn.’
Mick kept his eyes on the road ahead, but he reached over and squeezed her hand.
‘Of course you do.’ He could never, ever reassure her enough.
She took in a breath to dislodge the panic that was squeezing itself up. She hadn’t thought about it for a long time. But this changed things.
‘I just hope … You don’t think—’
‘Look,’ said Mick as they turned the corner. ‘The Pink Moon.’
There it was, hanging over them in the black velvet sky. The April full moon, called pink in the farmer’s almanac, though it wasn’t quite pink tonight, just a shimmering pale silver grey, as perfectly round as a dinner plate.
‘Yes,’ sighed Sheila, though she wasn’t fooled by his distraction technique. Mick didn’t want to talk about it. He never did. And maybe he was right. Maybe she needn’t worry. But she couldn’t help it. It was her darkest fear.
7
Rocky pulled into the car park of the Mariscombe Hotel and slid into an empty space. He’d suggested the bar here because no
way was he going to go on a date in the Ship Aground for everyone’s entertainment. There wouldn’t be many locals in here because the prices were quite high, and as it was still early in the season it would be relatively quiet.
He looked in the rear-view mirror, ruffling up his hair a tiny bit and making sure his eyebrows were in order and he had nothing in his teeth. He’d changed into jeans and a white linen shirt in the Shedquarters before he left.
He headed inside. The interior was designed to resemble a yacht, done out in sleek wood and chrome and white leather banquettes, with a beautifully curved bar jutting out into the room like the prow of a Sunseeker. Carly Simon ran through his head as Rocky walked in, though he didn’t think he was all that vain. Just nervous.
He saw Melisaa straight away, sitting at the far end on a high stool with what looked like a gin and tonic in front of her. There were a few couples sitting at tables, but otherwise it was fairly quiet for a Friday night.
‘Melissa?’ He put a hand on her arm and gave her a tentative smile as she turned.
Her face lit up when she saw him. ‘Hi. Rocky, I’m guessing?’ She slid off her stool and shook his hand. ‘I was here early. I’m always early. So I got myself a drink. But what would you like?’
Her voice was low; she seemed very composed and in control. He was impressed with her manners and her confidence. And she looked better than her picture, if anything, in cropped white jeans and a grey linen jacket and espadrilles. She smelled good too, a light citrusy scent filling his head.
‘I’ll just have a small glass of Merlot,’ he said to the hovering barman. ‘This place looks great. I haven’t been here since it reopened. I hope it was the right choice?’
‘Perfect.’ She smiled, her light brown eyes twinkling with warmth. ‘Are we OK at the bar or do you want to go to a table?’
‘The bar’s fine,’ he said, sliding onto the stool next to hers.
‘So, do you come here often?’ she laughed. ‘As they say?’
‘Every now and then. I live just round the bay, in Everdene, so we sometimes come here for a bar snack. But not since they’ve done it out.’
‘They’ve spent some money, that’s for sure.’ She looked round in approval. Rocky could see she had an eye for expensive things. She had a fine gold chain around her neck with a semi-precious stone hanging from it, and a cluster of tiny diamonds up the side of her ear.
‘Actually, my son’s doing the landscaping for the pool area,’ he told her. ‘It’s going to look pretty amazing. Like you’re in Ibiza.’ He smiled. ‘Although the weather might not be as reliable.’
‘Sounds like what we need round here.’ She pointed at him. ‘You have two sons, right?’
They’d exchanged a few personal details online during their exchange. Nothing too intimate. Facts rather than feelings.
‘Jake and Ethan.’ He nodded. ‘And you’ve got a daughter?’
‘Isabelle. She’s been at uni in Newcastle for a year. I can’t wait for her to come back this summer.’
‘Empty nest, eh?’
‘It’s been really tough.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘All those times when they’re young and you think you need space? When you get it, you don’t want it.’
‘Tell me about it. My younger son’s just moved out. I don’t know what to do with myself.’
They both laughed at the same time.
‘Is that why you went on the app?’
Rocky took his glass of wine from the barman, nodding his thanks.
‘I guess so. It felt like the right time.’
He was surprised how easily the conversation was flowing. Melissa seemed very relaxed. She leaned her elbow on the bar and rested her head in her hand, looking over at him, smiling. Her eyes were dancing. Was she flirting with him already?
‘So – have you got the emergency exit text thing set up?’
He couldn’t help but look shamefaced. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have known about it until my son told me. But I don’t think I’m going to need it.’
She laughed and put a hand on his arm. ‘Nor me. But I have done in the past, I can tell you.’
‘So you’re an old hand at this?’
‘Oh gosh, no, I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I’ve been on a few dates. But there aren’t many single people our age down here.’
‘Full disclosure,’ said Rocky. ‘But I think I’m quite a bit older than you. I’m well over fifty.’
She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Well, I’m forty-six. I don’t think that’s cradle-snatching. Do you?’
‘No.’ He took a sip of wine. He felt his shoulders relax. This was fun. Why had it taken him so long to pluck up the courage?
‘So shall we get the baggage out of the way?’ she asked. ‘I’ll go first. Husband a pilot; serially unfaithful. Utterly charming and a great dad but I couldn’t take the humiliation any longer.’ She made a tentative face. ‘Kind of an amicable split.’ She shrugged. ‘I moved down to this area for a fresh start two years ago. I wanted to get my business up and running before I started dating.’ She did jazz hands. ‘So here I am.’
‘And you’re a physio?’
‘Yeah. And it’s going great. Turns out there’s a lot of sporty people round here who injure themselves. Surfers, climbers, cyclists. Even walkers. Kerching!’
Rocky was surprised. Most women weren’t so open about their success but Melissa seemed to be revelling in it.
‘Good on you.’
‘I’ve had to work really hard at it. I still work hard. So when I play, I play.’ She opened her eyes a little wider.
‘Um …’ Rocky wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but he felt sure she had moved in a little closer to him. ‘Yes, well, we all need a bit of down time.’
There was a pause. She straightened herself up, moving herself away from him slightly, sensing his discomfort.
‘So. Your baggage?’
She was very direct. Very much taking control of the situation. Not that he minded, but he wasn’t used to such frankness. He thought carefully for a moment, choosing what to say and what to leave out. Melissa was beguiling, but he wasn’t going to fall into any traps.
‘I made the big mistake of thinking my dream was my wife’s dream. We’d always come on holiday here with the kids and loved it. I worked out we could sell our house and get something for half the money down here, and invest the rest in setting up on my own. It went OK for about six months, but Tina hated it down here. It was too quiet. She missed her friends and family. To cut a long story short, she left us.’
Melissa’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Wow. She left you and your kids? That’s unusual.’
Rocky took another sip of wine. He never liked talking about it. He felt ashamed. Ashamed that what he had done had broken up their family. There were details he’d left out, of course. Things he’d never told anyone, because it was too awful to admit. And it felt disloyal to Tina, despite her being the transgressor.
‘These things happen.’ He kept his tone light, even though it had been an absolute nightmare. Guilt, recrimination, blame, more guilt. ‘And the boys ended up having a great life. They were teenagers by the time they moved here. They lived for surfing and girls. What’s not to like?’
‘So you brought them up?’
‘Hey, I soon taught them how to cook and wash up and use the washing machine. I wasn’t going to run round after them. So they can both look after themselves.’
She looked at him. ‘What a great dad.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe if I hadn’t forced my dream on everyone …?’
How many times had he asked himself that?
He saw she had finished her gin and tonic. He pointed at it.
‘Can I get you another?’
She looked at her watch. She seemed to be debating whether to stay.
‘I shoul
dn’t. I’ve got parkrun tomorrow. I’m a little bit obsessed. I absolutely have to beat my personal best.’
‘Ahhh, the tyranny of parkrun.’ Sometimes he saw them running along the beach on a Saturday morning if he got up early to surf.
‘You don’t do it?’
He shook his head. ‘Plantar fasciitis.’
‘I could sort that out for you.’
‘It’s on the mend. But thank you.’
She stared at him for a moment, thoughtful, as if assessing him. Then she slid off her seat and bent down to pick up her bag.
‘Anyway, I must go. It was lovely to meet you, Rocky.’
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Her scent swirled around him for a moment and then followed her as she sashayed across the bar and out of the door.
He was stunned. What had he said or done to deserve her walking out after barely fifteen minutes? Was it a game? Was he supposed to run after her? Was he way too old to be dating and making a fool of himself, thinking he looked all right? He felt a little bit crushed. She wasn’t obliged to like him, of course she wasn’t.
He took a look at himself in the mirrored wall behind the bar. Was he deluding himself that he looked OK for his age? Did he have jowls, or a surfeit of frown lines? Did his close-cut hair make him look more convict than Clooney?
The barman came along to clear away Melissa’s glass. He raised an eyebrow; Rocky shrugged.
‘Must have been something I said.’
‘The trick is not to take it personally,’ said the barman, knowingly.
That was all very well, thought Rocky, but how else was he supposed to take it?
A Wedding at the Beach Hut: The escapist and feel-good read of 2020 from the bestselling author of THE BEACH HUT Page 4
