8
Darkness had fallen over the Shedquarters. There were only a handful of huts with a welcoming light on as the waves inched up the beach to high tide, murmuring a gentle lullaby. Jake piled more logs onto the fire-pit he’d lit earlier and draped a blanket around Robyn, tucking it in even though she protested.
‘I don’t need wrapping up in cotton wool.’
He pointed a warning finger at her. ‘Don’t argue. It’s properly cold.’
She snuggled underneath the fleece. He was right. With the sun completely gone, there was an icy frisson to the air. Frost was still possible at this time of year, as she knew only too well, thinking about her seedlings in her mini-polytunnel and hoping they were safe.
She gazed up at the sky. It was as black as squid ink, the Big Dipper poised like a ladle above them. From there it was a straight line to the North Star, the brightest star of all, a comforting, anchoring presence for everyone on land or at sea. If you could find that, you knew where you were.
‘I’m just going to grab another blanket.’
Jake disappeared back into the Shedquarters. She wondered if this was the right time to talk to him about the impact the scan had had on her. Of course, her primary emotion was relief that everything was just as it should be. But alongside that was the realisation that the heartbeat on the screen belonged to the first person she knew in her life to be actually related to her. The heartbeat of a blood relative. It was almost overwhelming, and she hadn’t expected to feel so rocked by it.
But she didn’t want to make today’s adventure about her and her feelings. It was momentous for Jake, too, of course, and she was mindful of overshadowing his experience. So she wanted to make sure the time was right before explaining.
He wandered back over to her. He had something in his hand.
‘I found this today,’ he said. ‘It jumped out at me. I had to get it.’
‘What?’ Robyn frowned, peering at his outstretched palm.
It was difficult to see at first, for there was only the faint light that spilled from the doorway behind them to see by. She looked more closely. It was a ring, in a little box, sitting on black velvet. A slender band of twisted matte gold, topped with a tiny starfish. It was exquisite. Delicate and different and beautifully crafted.
‘Oh!’ Robyn was nonplussed. They didn’t have the kind of relationship where they lavished extravagant gifts on each other out of the blue. Especially at the moment. Lately, all their money was going on horribly expensive things you couldn’t actually see, like RSJs and chimney flues and a future-proof cable network. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
‘I wanted to give you something. To mark the importance of today. A starfish represents infinite divine love,’ Jake told her. ‘And that’s an aquamarine. Seawater.’
‘It’s gorgeous.’ Robyn looked more closely at the stone, a pale greeny-blue. But she still wasn’t sure why he was giving it to her.
‘Robyn?’ He was looking at her with a funny expression.
‘Yes?’
‘You know I’ve always said I didn’t want to get married? That I thought marriage was an outdated institution, and pointless, and that weddings were a complete waste of time and money and I’d rather have a new pick-up truck?’
‘Yeah. It’s kind of why I’ve never asked you to marry me,’ Robyn joked. She knew Jake was touchy about marriage, because of his parents’ divorce. It had coloured his vision and made him wary. Why get embroiled in something that went on to cause bitterness and anguish and, not least, financial hardship, when you could just muddle along?
And Robyn had always gone along with him. She didn’t want to put their relationship under any pressure when they were in business together. Life was sweet, and if marriage turned out to be the right thing, it would happen in good time. She knew his aversion wasn’t because of her.
‘I think I might have changed my mind.’
Robyn stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Seeing that little being on the screen makes it seem like the right thing to do. I need to get over my prejudice. History doesn’t have to repeat itself. We owe it to him – her – to make a real solid commitment to each other.’ He paused, then swallowed. ‘Give me your hand. Your left hand.’
She held it out to him. He straightened her fingers.
‘They say this finger has a vein that leads straight to your heart.’ He stroked the third one in. ‘Will you marry me?’
For a few moments, there was no sound but the crashing of the waves on the beach. The tide was out, but the sound of the water hurling itself onto the sand had a comforting and familiar rhythm. Boom. Boom. Boom. The thud was in time with Robyn’s heart as she tried to find the words to reply.
‘Oh God,’ said Jake, looking crestfallen. ‘Forget I said anything. I’m an idiot. Of course you don’t want to marry me. What was I even thinking? I got carried away.’
He gazed at her. Her eyes were grey; her face long and thin, with sharp cheekbones and that slightly wonky broken nose.
She stared back at him, burly and scruffy, with his wiry dark hair that never did what it was told, his six o’clock shadow that started at about two o’clock, his thick brows over eyes that were as confusing as the sea, sometimes green, sometimes blue.
‘Oh Jake, you know what the answer is,’ she said.
‘I don’t.’ He shook his head, not taking his eyes off her.
She smiled at him.
‘Yes! Yes, of course I will.’
They gazed at each other for a moment, taken by surprise by the turn of events. The night breeze danced around them, gleeful at the evening’s outcome, and the sea edged in even closer for a look, not wanting to be left out, and the stars glowed just a little brighter as the two of them leaned into each other, and their kiss almost had the wonder of a first kiss.
Eventually, they broke apart, laughing at the magic of it all. Jake reached out for Robyn’s left hand again.
‘I’d better do this properly.’
They both watched as he took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her finger.
‘There,’ he said. ‘And do you know what? Marley had put this aside for me specially. As soon as she saw it, she knew it had your name on it. It’s been waiting in her shop, under the counter. She knew.’
‘I guess sometimes your friends know you better than you know yourself.’ Robyn took his hand and put it on her tummy. ‘I think this little one is going to be responsible for a lot of changes.’
‘Not too many changes, I hope.’ Jake looked anxious. ‘I want things to stay just as they are.’
Robyn laughed. ‘I think expecting things to stay the same is a bit optimistic.’
‘You know what I mean. You and me, the Linhay, our families … We’re so lucky, Robyn. We’re safe and secure and we’ve got everyone we love around us.’
‘We’re very lucky. And don’t worry. Nothing needs to change.’
Jake sighed. ‘I just wish my mum and dad were … at least amicable.’
He looked troubled. His parents’ split had affected him deeply. He was usually very matter of fact about it, but there had been a lot of hurt and bitterness and sometimes it leaked out. Robyn didn’t know the full details of the split, and there were always two sides to every story, but it seemed the move to Everdene had been to blame. A dream that had gone sour.
She was determined it wasn’t going to affect their future, though.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘We can’t have everything. We’ll do the best with what we’ve got.’ She held out her hand at arm’s length. She was surprised how at home the ring looked on her finger, despite her reddened, chapped skin and her ragged nails. ‘And you do realise what else this means?’ she said with a grin, hoping to change the reflective mood.
‘What?’
‘We actually have to have a wedding now.’
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�We do?’ Jake did his best startled Gromit face.
‘Oh yes.’
‘We can’t just sneak off to the registry office and do it quietly?’
‘You really think we could get away with that?’
‘I don’t see why not. It’s about us, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but …’ She went quiet for a moment.
‘Oh,’ said Jake. ‘Oh, hang on. I get it. You want a big wedding.’
‘No!’ She paused. ‘Not big big …’
One caterpillar eyebrow went up. ‘What’s not big big, exactly? Because it doesn’t sound small.’
‘Well, we’d have to have family. And our mates. And it all has a knock-on. You know, if you invite blah then you have to invite blah.’
‘We can’t just have close family and a couple of friends?’
‘Maybe. But it’s very hard to know where to stop. Especially when you live in a small community. I mean, we won’t be able to keep it quiet.’
‘Well, I don’t mind. Whatever you think works.’ Jake sat down in the deckchair next to her and stretched out his legs. ‘Though I don’t want to spend a fortune. I’d rather spend it on the house.’
Robyn thought about what he was saying. He was right. There were bound to be more hidden expenses at the Linhay, especially as they now had a deadline. It was far more sensible to save their money for unexpected emergencies.
‘You’re right. We’ll keep it small. Family and close friends. And we’ll keep it simple.’
‘Definitely.’
‘No horse and carriage or ring-bearers or endless photographs or seating plans.’
‘Or boring speeches or cringy first dances. Please don’t make me dance in front of everyone.’
Robyn laughed. Jake’s dancing prowess amounted to vigorous stomping to ‘I Would Walk 500 Miles’ and even then he couldn’t keep time.
‘And no weird net bags with sugared almonds. I’ve never understood those.’
‘No stag night.’ Jake shuddered at the memory of the ones he’d been subjected to. Images of Amsterdam and Dublin and Alicante clicked through his brain, all sweat and alcohol and lost passports.
‘Definitely no hen night either.’ Robyn was emphatic. ‘So we’re agreed, then. Simple, and small. The bigger it gets, the more expectations people will have.’
‘We can always have a party when we finish the Linhay.’
‘A house-warming/wedding reception/baby shower?’ Robyn laughed.
‘Do you think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew?’ Jake looked a bit daunted for a moment.
‘No,’ said Robyn, ever the optimist. ‘We’ll take each thing as it comes.’ She counted on her fingers. ‘Wedding, house move, baby. What could possibly go wrong?’
9
A little while later, Robyn drove back home along the coast road, the Pink Moon guiding her anxiously as if she needed a chaperone, but of course she didn’t because she had driven this road a million times; the road that led from Everdene to the other side of the headland and along the half-mile track to Hawksworthy Farm. It would be too wild and remote for some, stuck out on the edge of the moors, but to Robyn it was where she belonged.
She had sold her flat in Tawcombe and moved back in with her parents when she and Jake bought the tumbledown Linhay off them. Once used to shelter the flocks of sheep that grazed the moors during the bleak winter, it had lain empty for years. Selling it had been a timely solution: Hawksworthy Farm had been running at a loss for the third year in a row, and there was nothing much left in the coffers to prop it up. The Linhay was at the edge of the farm’s eastern boundary, with a dirt track running to it from the main road, which meant it could be neatly sliced off without affecting the farm, along with an acre of ground.
It was Jake who’d suggested the two of them buy it to keep it in the family. They had scraped enough money together for the deposit, managed to raise a mortgage, and were using the proceeds from Robyn’s flat sale for the renovations, as well as some of the profits from The Moss Partnership. She’d secretly been glad to leave her flat behind, even though it had glorious harbour views, for she had never been a town person, and it felt good to be close to home.
There were times when Robyn had despaired, wondering if they had overstretched themselves, practically and financially and emotionally. It had tested them to the limits, and there were moments when she couldn’t imagine the crumbling stone walls becoming remotely habitable. It often felt as if they were throwing money over the precipitous cliff on which the Linhay was perched. She had fretted endlessly, both in front of Jake and in secret in her own bed, when she had been overwhelmed by misgivings that sometimes morphed into pure panic and sometimes tears. Renovation really was like living in a reality TV show.
But now, there it was with a new roof, small but theirs, snug but perfect. She felt safer now the house was almost habitable and their investment was secure, and they’d somehow managed it without bankrupting themselves.
And the twist in tonight’s tale made her feel safer still.
She smiled as the tiny road wriggled up over the hill, lit by the beams of her truck headlights, picking out the stone banks and twisted tree trunks. She took her left hand off the steering wheel for a moment, rubbing the ring with her thumb as if to check it was real. Everything was falling into place, she thought. She had been surprised by Jake’s proposal, but as soon as the words had popped out, it had seemed so logical, so right, for them to get married, and not least because their accountant had strongly recommended it now they owned a property together.
As she reached the crest of the hill at the top of the downs and began the descent down into the valley, the disquiet that had become so familiar of late began to creep over her. It was slithering to the surface, the issue she had been determined to ignore for so many years, because confronting it brought too many problems. Sometimes, she could forget about it altogether. It came to her in waves of differing strengths, like the sets of waves on the shore: sometimes gently lapping, sometimes almost knocking her off her feet with the force.
It had gone from a seemingly inconsequential detail she ignored to a burning curiosity. From the moment she had realised she was expecting a baby, images flashed through her head and a voice called out to her. The one she usually silenced.
Maybe, she thought, as she dropped down a gear, the voice shouldn’t be silenced this time. Maybe it needed to be heard. Maybe it was time for her to listen?
She negotiated the steep descent through the oak-clad ravine that was as old as time. The Pink Moon still appeared sporadically through the gaps in the bare branches, but she could have done this part of the journey blindfolded, even the final hairpin bend that tourists found so alarming.
It is your right, she told herself. It had been ever since the day she had turned eighteen. But it was more complicated than that. There was no guarantee that what she wanted to do wouldn’t lead to distress or even heartbreak, and not just hers. After all, she could look after herself. It was everyone else she was worried about. The impact it might have on those she loved, and the woman she didn’t know.
Her birth mother.
Hawksworthy Farm was in darkness by the time she bounced along the driveway, over the cattle grid and into the yard. The security light came on with a click as she scurried to the back door, breathing in the icy air. It was always a few degrees colder here, exposed as they were on the rocky promontory, and the wind off the Atlantic was sharp and unforgiving in the dead of night. She slipped into the kitchen, kicked off her shoes, relishing the last of the warmth from the inglenook fire, and quickly made herself a hot water bottle. Clutching it to her chest, she went through into the hall and crept up two flights of wooden stairs into the attic. She flicked a glance underneath her sister’s door but there was no light on. Clover wasn’t back yet. She was probably still in the Ship Aground with Ethan, necking sambucas.
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The walls of her tiny attic room were sloping with only a five-foot strip down the middle having full head height. Her bed was at one end, covered in woollen blankets and satin eiderdowns. At the other end was a cast-iron rail where all her clothes were hung, a big chest of drawers painted blue and a wooden desk with a captain’s chair.
There wasn’t room to swing a cat. It was certainly too small to accommodate both her and Jake, but it was comforting and familiar and it was hers, and it had grown with her. She knew every damp patch on the plaster, every threadbare hole in the carpet, every squeaky floorboard.
She flicked on the fan heater and flopped down on her bed. There was no central heating up here, but she was used to it. She slid the hot water bottle in between the sheets then lay for a few moments while the warm air from the heater took the edge off the cold, wishing she had the solid warmth of Jake next to her. She breathed deeply, trying to focus, trying to slow her heartbeat. It was beating too fast, for she knew what she had to do.
She had to make a choice. It was now, or never.
She went over to the desk under the window. She sat in the chair for a moment, swinging it round from side to side, running her hands over the wood of the desk where she had sat revising for her exams. Even though she’d failed most of them, Sheila and Mick had been kind and supportive, helping her to find the horticultural course that had set her on her career path.
They’d always been the most wonderful parents. Attentive, loving, thoughtful. She told herself that what she was about to do didn’t diminish her love for them in any way. It wasn’t a rejection. She wasn’t looking to replace them.
Nevertheless, her mouth felt dry as she bent down and slid open the bottom drawer of the desk.
There it was.
She lifted it out, her heart beating faster. The box that contained her identity, her origins – all the things she didn’t know about herself. The box Sheila had given her on her eighteenth birthday. The box she had never opened, until tonight.
10
A Wedding at the Beach Hut: The escapist and feel-good read of 2020 from the bestselling author of THE BEACH HUT Page 5
