She stood up and walked back across the road, realising she would have to ring the bell for Gwen to let her in, but just as she approached the door, it opened and a man emerged. He was wearing jeans, a stone-washed sweatshirt and a baseball cap.
Robyn pointed at the door before he could shut it.
‘Would you mind letting me in? I’m just on my way to see Gwen.’
‘Sure.’ He grinned and held the door even wider for her. ‘I’ve just moved in downstairs. I’m Boyd.’
‘Hi.’ Robyn smiled. The new neighbour. He was nice-looking. Twinkly. ‘I’m Robyn.’
‘Ah. The blushing bride.’
‘Yes. Gwen’s organising the wedding for me.’
‘Well, if the menu’s all wrong, you can blame me. She keeps asking my opinion.’
Robyn laughed. ‘Oh dear. Sorry. You’re probably not very interested.’
‘Actually, it’s kind of fun. And Gwen’s very creative.’
‘She is. I’m so grateful to her.’
‘Where would we be without her?’ He was joking, but Robyn could see he was already under Gwen’s spell.
There was a little pause.
‘Right, well, I’m off to see a man about a boat.’ He nodded his head towards the harbour. ‘When in Rome.’ He put his fingers to his lips. ‘Don’t tell Gwen. I want to surprise her.’
Robyn watched after him as he headed off into the mizzle. She was intrigued. He seemed lovely. There was definitely something in the air, she thought. How nice it would be for her friend to have someone in her life. Gwen was so resolutely independent. For as long as she’d known her, she’d been on her own. It didn’t have to be wedding bells, but a like-minded person to share things with would be a good thing.
When she got up to the flat, Gwen answered the door.
‘Oh, Robyn.’ Gwen’s face was streaked with tears. ‘Poor Emily. Poor little you.’
The two women stood in each other’s arms, weeping at what they had just read.
‘Do you think I should meet her?’ asked Robyn eventually, disentangling herself and walking into the room. She could see the letter laid out on the coffee table. Her past; her history.
Gwen didn’t answer for a moment.
‘Imagine,’ she said. ‘Imagine having a baby. A dear little baby that was the centre of your world. And having that baby taken away from you. It would haunt you for the rest of your life. You would never wake up without her being the first thing you thought about. You would never go to sleep without wondering how she was.’ She wiped a torrent of tears from her cheek. ‘Of course you should go and see her.’
Robyn walked over to the window. In the distance, she could see Boyd talking to a man on the pontoon. They were pointing over at a boat moored in the middle of the harbour: a high-powered RIB. She smiled to herself. That was one secret she would happily keep.
‘I’ll contact her,’ she said to Gwen. ‘I want to meet her first, on my own. And then I’ll tell everyone else.’
35
‘I’m going to nip to Bath today,’ Robyn told Sheila over breakfast on Saturday. She was resting her bare feet on Mouse, who was lying under the table. ‘I’ll go on the train. I still need some wedding shoes. Turns out nice but comfy is almost impossible. I’ve tried everywhere else round here.’
‘Oh, damn,’ said Sheila, sticking some more bread in the toaster. She was in her tartan pyjamas and the sheepskin slippers Robyn had got her for Christmas. ‘I’ve got a client this afternoon, otherwise I’d have come with you.’
She came over and sat down, pouring herself a mug of tea.
‘That’s a shame,’ said Robyn, feeling guilty at the glibness of her lies. ‘But I’ll probably be better on my own anyway. I’ve got a list. Some new foundation. And a decent bra.’
More equivocation. Don’t overelaborate, she told herself, as she spread Marmite onto her toast. She’d better eat properly before she set off. Sometimes she didn’t bother and ended up feeling giddy.
‘Well, have a lovely day and don’t overdo it.’
‘That’s why I’m taking the train. I can have a nap.’
‘Text me when you get there. I worry you do too much.’
‘Mum. I’ll be fine. Honestly. It’s a bit of light shopping.’
‘If you see a nice pair of clip-on earrings that would go with my outfit, would you pick them up?’
Robyn hesitated. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘I’d ask Clover only she’d make me get something over the top. Just something small but smart to set it all off.’
Robyn’s heart buckled. Her mum was secretly excited about what she was wearing, she could see that. If she didn’t have time to get some in Bath, she could pick her up a pair during the week, or order some online.
‘I’ll see what I can find,’ she promised.
‘Are you sure I can’t poach you an egg?’ Sheila eyed the remnants of Robyn’s breakfast, clearly not convinced she’d eaten enough. ‘I’m doing one for your dad.’
‘No, thanks.’ Robyn wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ve gone off egg. And meat. And about a million other things.’
‘I couldn’t touch fish with Clover,’ Sheila admitted. ‘Or liver. Oh! Speak of the devil.’
Clover appeared, dressed in a Dalmatian onesie and carrying a Lidl bag stuffed with overnight things.
‘You should go with your sister to Bath,’ said Sheila.
‘I would, but she doesn’t want a hen-do. So I’m going on the stag-do instead,’ Clover said. ‘Ethan said it was OK.’
‘You could have got dressed.’ Sheila looked disapproving.
‘This is my outfit. And trust me, this is low-key compared to what some of them are wearing.’
‘Come on, then,’ said Robyn. ‘You don’t want to miss the minibus.’
She hurried her sister out of the house before the guilt overwhelmed her completely.
Sheila watched the two of them go then she cleared away the rest of the breakfast things. She felt guilty lying to Robyn about having a client. Should she have told her what was happening today? Mick had said not to say anything unless they had a bite.
‘We can have a family chat when we know what’s what. There’s no point in worrying the girls yet.’
She sat down for a moment and poured the last of the tea from the pot. She was anxious about Robyn going to Bath all on her own. It was only an hour on the train but it was a long drive to the station. Maybe she should have gone with her? She wasn’t really needed here – Geoffrey would show the film director around. But he might have questions, and Sheila was better at fielding questions than Mick, who wouldn’t know the best way to answer – he’d just be brutally honest, and that wasn’t always a good thing. Sheila knew there was a knack to selling houses, but wasn’t sure Mick had the guile to tell a prospective buyer what they wanted to hear.
Not that there was anything to hide at Hawksworthy. You got what you saw. Acres of pasture on the edge of clifftop; raw, natural beauty and surely the greatest view in the land. On a clear day you could see Wales. As for the farmhouse and outbuildings, they would win no prizes as they were, but there was potential if you had the pockets. Look at what had been done to the Linhay. No one would have thanked you for it in its former state, but it was shaping up to be more than any of them had dreamed of. Perhaps the film director would have the same vision as Robyn and Jake.
It was out of her hands.
Sheila relished the silence in the kitchen for a rare moment. There was too much to think about at the moment. The baby, the house sale, the wedding – it was like a washing-machine cycle, the coloured stuff in with the whites, everything whirling round and the colours bleeding into each other. She was finding it hard to focus.
Breathe, she told herself. What was the important thing?
All of it! It was all important. Making sure the baby was
safe. That the Linhay was finished in time. That the wedding was perfect. That their financial future was sorted. And she wasn’t in control of any of it. Mick was always telling her to let go. That she didn’t need to be in charge. But she hated that feeling. The only thing she was in control of these days was the dogs she trained. She could make them do exactly what she wanted. Everything else – not a chance.
Let it all go, Sheila, she told herself. Let everyone do what they want and look after themselves. What will be will be.
On the drive to Everdene, Robyn wondered about telling Clover where she was going. Her little sister would be furious with her if she didn’t. But you could never tell how Clover would react. She might want to come with her, or she’d spill the beans to Jake, or she might even berate Robyn for not telling Sheila and Mick and insist they turn around.
So she said nothing, but listened while Clover burbled on giving her strict instructions about what to buy.
‘You want a dewy foundation, not too matte, very light coverage. And shoes – nothing too clumpy. A wedged espadrille would be nice. And if there’s an eyebrow bar anywhere …’
‘What’s wrong with my eyebrows?’
‘A good brow can be better than a facelift.’
‘I’m not touching them. And nor is anyone else.’ Robyn laughed.
‘I should be coming with you,’ sighed Clover.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Robyn reassured her.
At the Ship Aground, a minibus was waiting for a motley crew to get on board. Three of Jake’s mates were dressed as traffic cones. There was a giant baby, and another one was dressed as a Baywatch lifeguard in a skimpy red swimming costume and a blond wig. Robyn couldn’t stop laughing.
‘You’re all mad,’ she said, and then her eyes widened as Jake appeared. He seemed to be having a piggy-back ride on a garden gnome. It was only when he got closer she realised the gnome was strapped to him and the legs hanging from the gnome’s shoulders were fake.
‘What are you like?’ she said.
‘Never say that I’m not on-brand,’ he said with a grin.
‘Please don’t break anything,’ she pleaded as she gave him a hug goodbye. ‘You’ve got far too many things to finish, and I don’t want you in plaster for the wedding photos.’
He kissed her amid cheers and clapping before getting into the back of the minivan with the others.
‘All aboard!’ called Ethan, who was driving and wearing an inflatable T-Rex suit.
‘Looking good, Eth,’ Robyn teased him, and he gave her a thumbs up.
‘Always,’ he said.
‘Bring him back safely,’ she said, peering in at Jake settling in at the back.
Right until the last minute she’d been tempted to tell Jake what she was doing today. But he needed this trip. He’d been working so hard, on the hotel and on the Linhay, and he needed some time with his mates to unwind and let his hair down. If he got any inkling of her plan, he would be overconcerned, overprotective, and would probably insist on coming with her. Which she loved him for, but she needed a clear mind.
Clover was racing out of the one-stop shop with a bag full of freshly baked doughnuts.
‘Look after her too,’ Robyn said to Ethan as Clover climbed into the van and settled into her seat, handing out her wares to the hungry stags.
‘She can look after herself,’ he grinned.
The minivan set off for Exeter, and Robyn headed to the station. Emily had told her Bath was frantic on a Saturday and parking was difficult so it was best to come by train. It was weird, corresponding with the mother she had never met about something as prosaic as travel arrangements.
The train journey to Bath seemed endless. The carriage was overcrowded and some of the seats had been double-booked, which meant every time they stopped at a station there were arguments. Robyn didn’t dare leave her seat to get a drink or go to the loo in case someone pinched it. She longed for silence so she could think, but there was a group of young girls drinking mini bottles of prosecco and shrieking with laughter, as well as a young boy watching cartoons on his iPad with the volume turned up, and the sound seeped in through her earphones no matter how high she turned up the music.
She promised herself that once this meeting was over, with Emily’s blessing, she would tell everyone the truth. She didn’t think she’d ever lied about her whereabouts to anyone before. She’d never needed to. Although this lie was to protect someone else, not herself.
She’d had some time to digest Emily’s story. To come to terms with how she had come into the world, and then found her way to Hawksworthy Farm, a human pass-the-parcel, going from her birth mother to a social worker to foster carers and finally to Mick and Sheila. She had questions, of course she did, but her overriding concern was to know that Emily was all right, had somehow managed to survive the trauma and had gone on to lead a happy life.
And that meeting Robyn might bring her some added peace.
She checked herself in her phone camera again. She’d twisted her curls into a side-ponytail, had on a smudge of eyeliner and mascara to give her face a little definition. She was wearing a pale pink linen shirt with cropped jeggings and white sneakers – nothing too smart because she didn’t really do smart anyway. She just wanted to be herself. She didn’t look pregnant yet. Maybe a little fuller – she’d succumbed to the jeggings because they were so much comfier than jeans – but as Emily didn’t know her usual size, she wouldn’t notice.
At last, they drew into the station at Bath. It was only a few hundred yards from the station to the café, and as the weather was fine it would be nice to stretch her legs after being cooped up on the train. She looped her rucksack over her shoulder and got swept up in the streams of passengers leaving the train.
They were mostly groups of youngsters here for a weekend on the town, dressed to the nines even at eleven o’clock in the morning: boys with sharp haircuts in jackets over jeans and pristine trainers, girls in leopard-skin dresses with tanned legs, spidery eyelashes and elaborate up-dos. Robyn wasn’t used to this level of grooming. She’d thought she’d made an effort, but she was dowdy next to these crowds of peacocks. She marched along, wishing she was one of them, having a day out, enjoying the thrill of a new city, pottering off for a cream tea. When she remembered why she was here, her stomach jittered.
But then she thought about how Emily must be feeling. There was probably guilt and remorse and distress and trauma; Robyn had none of that. She was simply apprehensive about whether she was doing the right thing, and a little nervous, which was understandable.
She stood in the shadow of the abbey for a few minutes of reflection, staring up at its golden façade, admiring the towers and the arched windows and the stained glass glittering in the sun. It was a rather reassuring presence. She wondered how many people had walked through its doors over the centuries seeking comfort. She wasn’t religious, but she could see how you could be tempted in times of uncertainty to search for guidance within its ancient walls.
As a clock struck quarter past the hour, ringing out across the crowds, she realised she was going to be late. She got her bearings and hurried down a road adjacent to the abbey, then into a little square lined with shops and cafés around a cluster of trees until she reached the one where they were meeting. She paused for a moment, wondering if Emily was inside already, watching the door.
The café was buzzing with people having elevenses at mismatched tables. The air was filled with the scent of baking and fresh coffee. She searched the faces, but couldn’t see anyone sitting on their own looking expectant. She must be the first to arrive.
‘Table for one?’ asked a waitress.
‘Two, please. I’m meeting someone.’
She followed the girl through to a table towards the back of the café, going past a glass counter filled with tempting cakes she couldn’t face, for her stomach was upside down. She slid
into the seat that faced the entrance.
‘Just a cup of tea, please. I’ll order properly when …’
She couldn’t quite say when my mother gets here. The words didn’t sit easily yet.
She fiddled nervously with the menu, looking up every time the door opened. But no one who came in looked as if they might be Emily. Her tea arrived and she drank it. Fifteen minutes went by. She checked her phone to see if there had been a message, but there was nothing.
She wasn’t going to come.
She felt overwhelmed by her disappointment. She had been so sure they would meet. Emily hadn’t given any indication that she was in any doubt, but she supposed it would have been a huge ordeal for her. She must have had second thoughts.
Tears sprang into Robyn’s eyes. She bent down to burrow in her bag for her purse, so she could pay for her tea and leave. She didn’t trust herself not to burst out crying. She couldn’t believe she felt so let down.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She had got through thirty years of her life without knowing her real mother. She didn’t need her: she had Sheila and Mick and Jake. And Clover. And … well, lots of people.
And at least now she didn’t have to be disappointed. The chances of Emily being the perfect fantasy mother were pretty remote. What if they’d had absolutely nothing in common? What if they’d disliked each other on sight?
What if Emily had already caught sight of her and decided she didn’t like what she saw? Mortified by the possibility, Robyn rummaged for the money she needed. She’d leave it on the table and go. She couldn’t face asking for the bill.
Maybe she’d go and look around the baths? Or take a trip along the river? Or go and have tea at the famous Pump Rooms? She could take something back for Jake: a Bath bun in a little box. Maybe she should have been honest with him from the start. It would be nice to go home and have someone to share the disappointment with, instead of having to ask herself endless questions and wonder why Emily had chosen not to come. But Jake wasn’t at home. She would be all by herself.
A Wedding at the Beach Hut: The escapist and feel-good read of 2020 from the bestselling author of THE BEACH HUT Page 22
