Chapter 25
After a morning of sightseeing, shopping and generally indulging in more local seasonal treats than any one woman needed, Ruth felt utterly relaxed.
Apart from the part of her that remained on high alert for Nathan, of course.
God only knew how she was going to cope when the time came for him to fly the nest and head off to college or university.
Not that she could see Nathan taking a hugely academic route through the rest of his education, if she was being totally honest, especially after he’d scraped the bare minimum in GCSE results needed to stay on at school.
Ruth frowned. That was her fault, too. If she’d kept quiet and remained with Trev a few more years, long enough to get both children through school – maybe that would have been better.
Although, she doubted whether Trev would have stayed, even if she hadn’t rocked the boat. Things with Janey seemed settled. Trev was living a new and, by all accounts, far happier life away from his family. Away from her.
It was a shame she didn’t seem able to repel the street hawkers with such ease. And if that guy with a monkey accosted her once more asking if he could put the damn thing on her shoulder for a photo – and a tip – Ruth thought she might just lose her new-found relaxed attitude.
Now in an area called The Circus, a shopping area modelled, according to the guidebook guru, Millie, on Picadilly Circus in London, the hawker was wandering in their direction again. Suggesting they should head into the art gallery she’d noticed proved to be a good choice.
The three of them wandered through the cool interior space, filled with the vibrant work of local artists and away from that monkey.
Ruth had considered she liked most creatures – apart from the obvious: scorpions, snakes, ticks…
oh, and toads, she’d always had a problem with toads.
She had thought furry creatures were all good, and yet something about the monkey’s tail, which had a life of its own, and the way its sharp little black eyes watched her…
Ruth shuddered, refocusing on a brightly depicted scene of fishing nets, a fresh catch glistening in the sunshine and with a gorgeous piece of coastline in the background.
Hannah was circling the space, tailed by Millie who was asking questions about the artists’ techniques, or the style of the paintings.
All questions Ruth would be completely incapable of answering.
But it was clear that Hannah was fidgeting, as time ticked towards afternoon.
Ruth smiled to herself as she watched the two of them chatting in front of a rainforest scene, thick and vibrant with more shades of green than she had thought existed.
She remembered how it felt to have everything trail away in the wake of finding someone special.
How nothing mattered but spending time with them.
And Ruth had no doubt Louis was proving himself to be very special, and was the cause of Hannah’s subtle watch checks, her glances at the exit from the gallery.
Walking across, Ruth took the bull by the horns.
‘Go back to the ship, Hannah. You don’t have to pretend you want to be here with us.’
Hannah’s relief was palpable. ‘Do you mind? I feel bad for having forced you to stay around Basseterre rather than exploring the island, especially if I duck out and go back now.’
‘It was always the plan to get some Christmas shopping done on one of the islands – the kids won’t forgive me if they have nothing to open.’ Ruth frowned. ‘Wrapping paper… Didn’t think of that. Can we even buy wrapping paper here?’
Millie shrugged, unhelpfully. ‘I know what you’ve bought, anyway. Even that little wooden dolphin you thought I hadn’t seen.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ Ruth thought she’d been at her subtlest with that one.
‘Well, if you really don’t mind…’ Hannah smiled her thanks and Ruth watched her as she headed, with more purpose than any of them had bothered with all morning, towards the exit.
Hannah crossed paths with a middle-aged man who was on his way in. He stood back, holding the door wide as she nodded her thanks and swept past him into the bright sunshine beyond.
‘Hannah said this one has given her inspiration for her new painting,’ Millie said, tugging Ruth’s attention back to the rainforest picture.
‘That’s good,’ Ruth said, frowning as something in the back of her mind rippled with recognition.
The man continued into the gallery, his face at an oblique angle to her even as she watched him smiling at the warm greeting he received from the attendant, and Ruth’s brow furrowed even more deeply.
His smile triggered something deeply buried in her and she shook her head, doing her best to refocus on Millie. It couldn’t be.
The man wandered around in much the same way they themselves had, pausing to appreciate paintings, his greying flecks of short dark hair atop a tall frame giving little away other than that he was of similar vintage to Ruth, and yet…
He folded his arms, his back still to Ruth, and he tilted his head, his hidden gaze studying a clamour of fishing boats in a painting closer to an abstract style than anything else on display.
And then Ruth knew. Even though she couldn’t know, couldn’t be sure because she hadn’t even seen his face, not clearly, but that action – nothing special nor out of the ordinary, simply a tilt of the head – but the action did something to Ruth’s gut, right at the very bottom of it, in the place that only reacts when something fundamental shifts in the world.
Millie was saying something about the colours in another painting, but Ruth couldn’t shift her focus from the back of the man’s head, as other aspects of his physicality slotted into her growing recognition.
Wide shoulders, the left slightly lower than the right – the result of a broken collarbone as a kid.
The way he folded his arms and then ticked a single finger against the opposing elbow.
She was still staring when he straightened and turned, his expression full of mirth until he saw her. The smile slid away from his features, the gentle glitter of amusement fading as his eyes hooded and he frowned.
Ruth fully expected him to blank her, to see nothing but a mousy middle-aged stranger staring at him. Expected him to smile politely and move away – because he would never be rude, not even to a stranger. And that was what she was… now.
She hadn’t noticed his glasses, only registering them as he pushed at the bridge. She wondered when he’d started wearing them. They suited him.
Ruth swallowed, her throat dry as she tried to work out what to do. Noticed the wedding band on his left hand, even though he was here alone, and made to turn away.
‘Ruth?’ he said. ‘Roo? Is that you?’
Ruth nodded. ‘Yes. Hello, Teddy.’