Three
With intermittent breaks to catch her breath, Fiona hurtled across the beach and up through the village, ignoring the startled looks from those she passed.
She let herself into Ivy’s cottage, closing the door stealthily behind her, and crept up the stairs to the bedroom, where she dropped her sandals with a clatter.
Ru’s proposal had been a naive attempt to rally her spirits, but it felt like salt in the wound of his betrayal, a painful reminder that he saw her as someone to be managed and protected rather than consulted.
‘ My restaurant’. Those words would haunt her.
They proved that her instinct to reject him was correct.
The way he’d approached the investors privately, stung – not even a heads-up about the alternative business plan.
It confirmed what she’d suspected for some time: in his mind, she was an accessory to his success, not an architect of their shared future.
When she’d failed that exam, she’d shattered all of her dreams – she wasn’t a Master Sommelier, she wasn’t the business partner of a celebrity chef.
Fiona wasn’t good enough to become the wife of one, and she was no longer the girlfriend of one either.
She hurled herself onto the bed, sniffing her tears to a stop, then rolled on to her side, thumping her head against the pillow.
But the musky scent of Ru clung to the bed linen, and she moaned.
Her eyes danced around the room. Traces of him lay everywhere – his jeans slung over a chair back, his bag unzipped but unpacked, the clothes rumpled from his post-breakfast hurried delve to extract his swimming trunks.
Fiona pushed herself upright, yanking Ru’s belongings off hooks, plucking them from chair backs, and sweeping them off the chest of drawers.
She tossed them all into his bag and tugged at the zip.
It was unyielding, as if mocking her attempts to shut away her memories.
Fiona kicked the bag under the bed, then picked up a wine book, opening it randomly and staring unseeing at the page.
However, she couldn’t concentrate, and her ears strained for footsteps. Was Ru going to come after her?
For an hour, Fiona idly flipped pages. She heard footsteps clomp up the stairs, then a firm knock.
She drew in a calming breath. The door opened and Aunt Ivy’s round face peeped in, her eyes radiating love like the warm glow of a sunrise spreading across a tranquil sea. ‘Ruben called me. We need to talk.’
Fiona examined her aunt’s face for clues. Ivy didn’t do drama. She wouldn’t approve of this mess.
Ivy knelt in front of Fiona. Despite being in her late fifties, her aunt was flexible for her age and after decades of worship, was used to being on her knees. ‘I’m not going to ask why you did this. You will tell me when you are ready.’
Fiona spoke earnestly. ‘I’ll tell you now. I’m not good enough for him.’
Ivy clicked her tongue. ‘Let’s deal with the practical side of things first. I’ve offered to take him the car keys so he can drive back up to London.’
Good , thought Fiona. It would be easier if she didn’t see him. ‘I’ve packed his bag. It’s not heavy, so you can take it with you.’ She wanted nothing left behind to remind her of him.
Ivy sighed. ‘If that’s what you think is best. When the dust has settled you can catch a train home and chat everything through together.’
‘No need,’ Fiona responded bitterly, ‘He can sort everything out.’
Her aunt frowned. ‘Ruben isn’t going to tidy this mess up Fiona. It’s your mess too. You need to talk to him. You are in business together.’
‘Wrong tense. We were in business together. He’ll find another sommelier.
Guests come for the food.’ That’s what the lead investor had told her in that meeting, with a sardonic curl to his lips, ‘Ru can replace me. I couldn’t replace him.
’ She would never replace him. Fiona bit down on her lip, relishing the pain.
‘What about the flat?’
She thought about their home in Ladbroke Grove.
Fiona had done all the legwork, but it was Ru who’d found it in her discarded pile.
It was Ru who’d seen the potential, Ru who’d hired and briefed the architect, transforming the flat into a light and airy space with oblique views over Holland Park.
All the good ideas had been Ru’s. His creative mind was why he was such a successful chef.
Although possibly a miserable one today.
Fiona shook her head. ‘It’s his. He can buy me out.
’ As an up-and-coming celebrity chef with wealthy backers, he could afford the mortgage by himself.
Fiona longed to contribute more than just her mountain of debts.
She pictured the day she finally passed that wretched exam and started earning a proper salary – enough to pay back what she owed and be financially independent.
Ivy tutted, put her hands on her thighs and levered herself upright, her knees cracking as she rose. ‘You’ve got this all figured out, have you?’
Fiona sniffed.
‘No, sorry that was flippant, unhelpful.’ Ivy paused and took a breath. ‘What do you want to do? Stay in Brambleton for the rest of the week while you think things through?’
‘I know what to do. I need to pass my Advanced Sommelier exams.’ She couldn’t think any further ahead. That qualification would set her free financially and prove her worth.
‘Fiona, my darling, life is a serious of tests God sets for us, but passing exams isn’t the key to a happy, fulfilling life. You won’t earn love through your achievements. Love is freely given.’
For once, Fiona knew that her aunt was wrong. Passing exams was crucial to a successful career – and successful careers delivered happy and fulfilling lives.
‘Ivy, I can’t face Ru ... not yet. Can I stay here with you?’ murmured Fiona, sounding like her teenage self, reluctant to catch the train back to a silent Exeter home after spending an afternoon in Brambleton.
Ivy spoke decisively. ‘OK. But you can’t run away from this, Fiona. You need to sort out the practicalities.’
Spotting her opportunity, Fiona chewed her lip. ‘I need to retake my exam. Would you lend me the money so I can book it? I promise I’ll pay you back.’ She studied her aunt’s face for clues.
Ivy tutted. ‘Why not ask your parents?’
‘No!’ That would involve admitting to them she’d failed the first time, and she wasn’t doing that.
‘I’m sure they’d help.’
Fiona was sure they wouldn’t. Neither of her parents had ever failed an exam. ‘I don’t want their help. And I don’t want them to know I’ve failed. Please don’t tell them. Please, please lend me the money.’
Ivy sighed. ‘If it’s that important to you ...’
Fiona ran her eyes around the little bedroom.
Her heart felt ragged, as if someone had twisted a corkscrew into it.
By rejecting Ru, she had pulled apart the fabric of her life.
She loved him, lived with him, worked with him.
All that was gone. Had she made the right decision?
Should she call Ru and talk through what he’d done wrong?
No, that would be a false reprieve. After rejecting his proposal, it wouldn’t take long for Ru to realize he’d dodged a bullet and replace her with someone more suitable.
Although it was the right choice, she would have to deal with the implications of her decision, which were settling, sharp and bitter, like over-aged wine she didn’t want to swallow.
‘Can I stay with you for a month or so?’
‘Moping here won’t help. You must be practical.’
Her aunt was right. There were practical considerations; Fiona needed to get a job so she could contribute to her living costs and eventually pay off her debts. ‘Maybe the pub could use a pair of hands for a few weeks? I need some headspace. I promise I won’t mope.’
That was an easy promise to keep – Fiona would be too busy studying to mope.
Ivy offered to cook dinner, but Fiona declined, knowing she would be unable to face food.
Alone in the bedroom, she unpacked her suitcase, then repacked most of it – she had no use for a silk negligée anymore, and she wouldn’t have time to wear a bikini or holiday clothes.
She kept out her toiletries, all her books, jeans and t-shirts.
That night Fiona lay awake for hours. Her mind replayed snatches of the horrendous day: Ru’s grinning face when he’d admitted what he’d done with the investors, oblivious to how she felt; Ru’s dazed expression, his slumped shoulders, then those vicious stinging words and the look in his eyes as he’d spat them.
Had she made a dreadful mistake? Should she call, patch things up, promise to catch the first train to London in the morning?
She loved him enough to try, but then she remembered how worried she’d been on his behalf that by failing her exam she had messed up his career, when in truth, he’d been secretly undermining hers to protect his own.
They were destined to split up. She had just precipitated the demise.
Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep, but it offered no release. She dreamed she was being chased along Brambleton Beach by her parents, her feet dragging in damp sand, each step almost overwhelming her energy, while her eyes scoured for some unseen lost treasure.
She woke early, with a heavy ache in her chest. Today marked the start of her new life. One without Ru. The faint sounds of singing drifted through the door. Ivy was up early; Sunday was a busy day for her. Fiona shrugged on a cotton dressing gown and went downstairs.
Her aunt was in the kitchen, a morning church service flickering on the TV screen behind her.
‘Good morning, love. Toast and tea. Why don’t you sit down. I’ll make it.’
Fiona took a seat, listening to the choir singing, ‘ Dear Lord and Father of mankind, forgive our foolish ways ... ’ Well, the hymn was appropriate , Fiona thought.