Chapter Thirty
That’s Christmas well and truly over with, Bart thought as he watched Mitch descend the stairs with his rucksack. He was wearing his leathers and carrying a helmet, and his expression was sombre.
“Thanks for everything, Bart.”
“No, thank you. Sarah and Toby are going to miss you. So will I.”
“And I’m going to miss them. You too, of course. This Christmas has been a…” Mitch trailed off awkwardly and shrugged.
Bart knew what he meant. It had been a crazy, wonderful, heart-wrenching Christmas for all of them.
“I’ll be back when I can, if that’s okay,” Mitch said, his expression anxious.
“We’ve been over this. You’re welcome anytime.” Bart grinned slyly. “Next weekend, is it?”
“I don’t want to rush things.” Mitch’s eyes slid to the guest lounge, where Sarah was playing on the floor with Toby.
“I don’t think you’d be rushing things at all. She’ll want to see you, and if she doesn’t she’ll soon let you know.” Bart held out his hand for Mitch to shake and gave his arm a squeeze. “Have a safe journey back. You’d better go say goodbye to Toby.”
“I’m going to miss that little guy so much.”
So he would, Bart thought, but Mitch would miss Sarah even more.
Bart hovered in the doorway as Toby launched himself at Mitch’s legs. “I wanna come.”
Sarah got to her feet. “Remember what I said? Mitch has to go home.”
Toby turned his head. “This is home.”
“This is Bart’s home. Mitch lives somewhere else.”
“I wanna go with Mitch.”
“It’s too far and you’re too little to go on the back of Mitch’s motorbike.”
“Am not.”
Mitch crouched and put his arms around the boy. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
Sarah bit her lip. “Will you?”
“If you want me to?”
“Do you want to?”
Bart rolled his eyes, his vow not to interfere going out the window. “Will you two stop fannying around and admit you love each other? Toby, let’s go see if there are any snowman cookies left, and let these numpties have a minute to themselves.”
Toby didn’t need to be asked twice. Snowman cookies clearly trumped Mitch’s imminent departure.
The cookie had been found and eaten and a glass of milk drunk before Sarah wandered into the kitchen. Her eyes were damp, but she was smiling.
“Well?” Bart demanded.
“He’s gone.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to leave me in suspense?”
“He says he loves me.”
“Yes!” Bart fist-pumped the air. Then he sobered. “How about you? How do you feel?”
She pulled a face. “I’ve been hurt before and I’ve got Toby to consider.
I told him I want to take it slow. Anyway, I’ve got to find a place to live first; I can’t stay here forever.
I’ll give the council a call in the morning.
Now that the holidays are over, things should hopefully be back to normal. ”
Bart pressed his lips together. There was going to be a big hole in his heart when they went. He just hoped they wouldn’t disappear from his life completely.
“You can stay here as long as you need to,” Bart reminded her firmly.
Putting Sea View on the market could wait.
Sarah and Toby were more important than the sad state of his finances.
He’d managed okay up to now, and he could manage for a while longer.
He carried on, “In the meantime I hope you’ll continue to treat this place like your own, and if that means Mitch turning up every weekend, then I’ll be thrilled for both of you. ”
Sarah put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”
That’s where she was wrong—she deserved every bit of help and support he was able to give after what she’d been through. And now that she had a chance of happiness, he was going to do everything in his power to make it easy for her to take it.
Sarah hesitated, and from her cautious expression he had a feeling he knew what she was going to say. “About you and Eloise…Have you…? Should you…?” She ground to a halt.
“No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t think of me like that.”
“But…”
Bart shook his head adamantly. “I messed up. Let’s leave it at that, eh?” There was no point in raking up old coals, because as far as Eloise was concerned, there hadn’t been a spark there to begin with.
There was only one thing Eloise didn’t miss about her job—and it wasn’t actually the job itself. It was the dismal dark January mornings when she’d had to scrape ice off the car, and it would take forever for the interior to warm up and to be able to feel her hands again.
Today, however, she would have gladly swapped places with the poor sod who lived opposite, as he grumpily de-iced his car, a resigned expression on his face.
It was the Monday after the Christmas holidays and the first proper day back at work for many people.
Everyone she’d spotted heading off to work this morning looked miserable, and her envy was like a nasty taste in her mouth.
What did she have to look forward to today, other than trawling the online job sites and the drivel of daytime TV?
“You need to bloody well snap out of it,” she scolded. Instead of sitting around feeling sorry for herself, she needed to have a good think about what she could do to fill her time, because if she had something to occupy her during the days, the nights mightn’t feel as long.
Since the type of job she was used to doing appeared to be out of the question, voluntary work crossed her mind again.
Charity shops were always crying out for volunteers, weren’t they?
Or they might have a role where she could use her organisational skills?
She was happy to travel a reasonable distance, and she would even consider working from home, although she’d much prefer to spend the day in an office rather than inside her own four walls.
Feeling more hopeful, Eloise had a shower and got dressed, then made breakfast. As she popped a single slice of bread into the toaster, an image of one of Bart’s sumptuous full English breakfasts slid into her mind, and she sighed sadly.
Why did everything have to remind her of him?
She couldn’t fold a towel without thinking of the way he’d stacked them on the shelf in the en suite.
She couldn’t put her slippers on without being reminded that she’d worn the very same pair at Sea View.
Thoughts of Bart were constantly taking her by surprise, and even when she was doing something that had no connection to him whatsoever, her treacherous mind still managed to insert him stealthily into her thoughts.
Determined to distract herself, Eloise selected a playlist on her phone (definitely no jazz), the music keeping her company while she scoured the internet for suitable jobs. No new ones had appeared since she’d last looked, so she turned her attention to voluntary work instead.
An hour later, she was deep in the depths of the internet when her phone rang.
“I can’t accept it,” Sarah announced.
“Hi, Sarah, how are you?”
“You are an awful woman.”
“It’s arrived, then?” The computer Eloise had ordered for her should have been delivered last week, but those odd days between Christmas and New Year had slowed things down.
“I can’t accept it,” Sarah repeated.
“What will you do with it then?”
“Send it back, of course!”
“And how do you propose to do that, since you’ve got no way to initiate a return?” Eloise asked mildly.
“I’ll phone the company and tell them it’s a mistake.”
“That won’t work.”
“But I can’t accept it, Eloise! A pair of boots is one thing, but this is—”
“Nana Weez? I wanna talk to Nana Weez!”
Eloise’s heart faltered when she heard Toby’s voice in the background.
His mother said, “Not now, Toby. Later, okay?”
“No! Now!”
“Put him on,” Eloise said.
“All right, but this isn’t over.”
“Nana Weez, we’re going to the beach after the ossifis.”
“The what?”
“Ossifis. For a house.”
“He means the council offices,” Sarah called in the background.
“I’m taking my kite.”
“Ah yes, your kite.” It was one of the presents Mitch had given him. “Do you know how to fly it?”
No reply.
“Toby?”
“He’s gone to fetch it,” Sarah said, coming back on the line again.
“Did Mitch get home all right yesterday? I’m assuming you’ve heard from him.”
“I have…”
Eloise narrowed her eyes at her hesitant tone. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“He, um…told me he loved me.”
“Woo-hoo!”
“Yeah…”
The hesitation was there again, and Eloise guessed what was going on. “Mitch isn’t Karl.”
“I know, but…”
“You don’t want to jump in with both feet?”
“Exactly.”
“You don’t have to; you’ve got all the time in the world to get to know him and trust him. Mitch isn’t going anywhere.”
Sarah giggled. “Actually, he is. I’ll be seeing him again this weekend. He’s coming here, obviously. Bart is ever so good about it.”
At the mention of Bart’s name, Eloise’s heart skipped a beat. “How is Bart?”
“Quite subdued actually, though he’s doing his best not to show it. He looked downcast when I told him I was going to pop into the council offices today to chivvy them along, rather than phoning them.”
“I hope for your sake they can find you somewhere soon.” But not for Bart’s, Eloise thought; he needed to be needed, and she worried he would become morose and sorrow-filled again when Sarah and Toby moved out.
Although with spring around the corner, he’d soon have plenty of guests to keep him occupied.
“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Sarah said.
“I love being here with Bart, but we can’t live at the guest house forever.
He’ll need the room before long. Honeycombe Bay is quiet now, but by Easter it’ll be buzzing with tourists.
Anyway, that’s beside the point—can we get back to the computer? I don’t want it.”
“You need it.”
“Yes, but—”
“Sarah, just take it. Think of it as an early housewarming gift.”
“Most people buy a houseplant or a bunch of flowers.”
“I’m not most people.”
“You can say that again!” Sarah exclaimed, then added, “Thank you. I do need it, but I’m going to pay you back.”
“Fine.” Eloise would argue against that when the time came, because she had no doubt that independent, strong-willed Sarah would do her best to keep her promise. “Let me know how you get on with the council,” she said. “And keep me updated about Mitch?”
Sarah’s giggled assurance lingered in Eloise’s ears as the call ended. She was so pleased for her and Mitch, and for Toby too. Mitch would be a fantastic stepdad, and with Bart as a grandfather figure, the little boy would thrive.
Eloise wished she could take a more active part in his life, and in Sarah’s, but she’d have to be content to watch from the sidelines—because returning to Honeycombe Bay simply wasn’t an option.