Chapter Three
Nanna’s homecoming had all the pomp and ceremony of a royal visit, though she had only been in the hospital for ten days.
Ollie had gone with Cassie’s mum and dad to fetch her in her dad’s comfortable car, but Cassie was there waiting for her outside the house, along with Lisa and Paul.
When the car drew up at the kerb the grand old lady gave a regal wave, her eyes twinkling with delight as she saw the reception committee.
Paul opened the car door for her with a solemn bow as Cassie’s dad went to the boot to fetch the wheelchair.
Paul and Ollie settled her into it with all due ceremony and wheeled her to the front door, then the two of them lifted it up the stone steps to the hall.
She gazed around in smug satisfaction.
“Right. I’m home.”
Cassie’s mum smiled wearily.
“Yes, you are.” Apparently, the journey from the hospital hadn’t been without its trials.
Nanna had finally been persuaded nearly five years ago to give up her own house at the top of Cliff Road, and move in with her son’s family three doors down.
Lisa had kept Cassie entertained for months with the story of all the toing and froing as the obstinate old lady had insisted that she was perfectly fine living on her own.
It had taken two falls to put an end to the arguments.
But even then she had been as contrary as possible, refusing point-blank to consider a stairlift so that she could use one of the upstairs bedrooms.
‘She says it looks like a toilet,’ Lisa had written.
‘Can’t say I blame her.
’
So all the furniture had had to be moved out of the dining room, and her bed brought in, along with her dressing table which she had had since she was a bride, and her favourite armchair set in the bay window so that she could see out over the whole village.
They had brought her photographs — her wedding, wearing a lovely white lace gown, Grandpa Channing at her side, handsome and smart in his naval uniform.
And they had set up her television for her to watch her favourite soaps and quiz shows.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” Lisa offered.
“Of course I do. And biscuits. Chocolate digestives.”
Cassie wasn’t the only one trying to suppress her laughter.
Nanna had always been bossy, but as she had grown older she was worse than ever.
Still, as she had said, at the age of ninety-three she was entitled to be as bossy as she liked.
“Do you want to lie on the bed or sit in your chair?” Ollie asked.
“The chair, of course. Come on, what are you standing there for? Help me up.”
They settled her in the armchair, making sure that she was comfortable with several cushions round her, and her feet propped up on a low footstool.
Ollie had taken her wrist and was checking her pulse.
She glared up at him.
“Stop mithering me,” she scolded.
“That’s why I wanted to get out of that damned hospital, with the way all those doctors and nurses kept mithering me all the time.”
He smiled.
“Humour me.”
“Huh!” But she let him finish.
“Now, where are the little ones? Don’t they want to see their poor old granny?”
“Noah is down at the café playing with Amy, and Kyra’s upstairs sleeping. You can see them later — you need to take it easy for a while now.”
“I’ve every intention of taking it easy,” she retorted.
“Where’s that tea? Ah, about time.” She scowled as Lisa came in with a tray.
“What did you do? Go and pick the leaves yourself?”
Cassie’s mum sighed and set the remote control for the television down on the table beside her.
“Is there anything else you want?”
“Not for now. I’m going to drink my tea and then have a nice sleep.” She glared at Ollie.
“And I don’t want anyone disturbing me to take my damned pulse!”
“Okay. We’ll go and leave you in peace for a while then.”
In the kitchen the family settled round the big scrubbed-pine table.
Cassie’s mum had provided home-baked scones and mugs of tea.
“Well, she’s home.”
“She’s going to run you ragged, Mum,” Cassie warned her.
“I don’t mind. She helped me a lot when you were all little. Now it’s her turn to be looked after.”
“I’ll be here to help.”
Paul slanted her a questioning look.
“You’re staying then?”
“For a while.” For a fleeting moment she had a flashback to herself tucking that airline ticket into the poetry book, but she pushed the image aside.
“There’s the two weddings coming up — Debbie’s and Tom’s. I’ll be staying for those. Besides, I thought it was time I took a bit of a break from racketing around having fun.”
Her mum looked pleased but didn’t say anything.
Cassie knew how difficult it had been for her to watch her youngest fly off across the Atlantic ten years ago, but she hadn’t said anything then either.
She had been grateful for that — it wouldn’t have taken much to tip the scales, take the easy path of staying at home.
She glanced around the kitchen.
The family usually ate in here — they had rarely used the dining room, unless they had guests, even before Nanna had taken it over.
The room was at the back of the house, overlooking the garden.
It faced north, but it was always warm and bright, with buttercup-yellow walls, white painted cupboards, and a range-style cooker with polished brass trim.
Barney’s basket was next to the range.
He had been curled up, comfortably dozing, but the prospect of begging for nibbles of scone lured him out, his warm brown eyes full of adoration as he levered his front paws a little stiffly onto Cassie’s lap.
“You greedy little mutt,” she chided him fondly, tickling behind his ears.
“Here you are.” He snaffled the bit of scone she gave him, and promptly turned his attention to Paul.
Cassie laughed.
“You traitor!”
She spread her scone with a thick layer of Devon cream and a smear of her mother’s home-made strawberry jam, and bit into it, the warmth of pure bliss spreading through her.
“Mmm, I’d forgotten how scrummy your scones are.”
Her mother laughed.
“Worth coming home for?”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled through the mouthful.
“Nobody makes scones like you. Or maybe Nanna, back in the day.”
Home.
Sitting around the kitchen table with her family, the little brown terrier still hopefully begging for a bit of scone.
Yes, moments like this were worth coming home for.
Worth staying for?
She didn’t have to make up her mind about that for a while.
She’d be staying for Nanna, and for the two weddings.
After that .
.
.
The ticket said 25th September.
Six weeks.
There was no rush.
* * *
“Daddeee, can we go down to the beeeach today? I want to play with Amy.”
Liam smiled down into his daughter’s upturned face.
He’d give her the moon and the stars, so a trip to the beach was the least he could do.
The stack of emails and paperwork on his desk could wait until tonight, when she was asleep.
“Okay, sweet plum. Are you going to go in the sea?”
The small blonde head nodded vigorously.
“I ’spect so.”
“We’d better put your swimsuit on under your shorts then.”
“I did awready.”
She gave him her most angelic smile, and he laughed, shaking his head.
Five years old, and she could wind him around her little finger.
The beach was crowded, but Robyn knew where to find her best friend.
She let go of Liam’s hand as they reached the bottom of the ramp and raced ahead across the sand.
“Amy! We’re here.”
Liam let Hobo off his lead and he hirpled after her, not troubled at all by the absence of one hind leg.
Barney, the Channing’s small Border Terrier, jumped up to meet him, and the pair of them set off, bouncing and chasing each other down to the water’s edge and back.
A small group was clustered at the far end of the beach, close to the cliff steps.
Debbie Rowley’s little girl Amy, the image of her mum.
Lisa Cullen with Noah, who was in the same class as Robyn and Amy, and the baby in her carrier in the shelter of a colourful canvas windbreak.
And Cassie Channing.
His footsteps faltered briefly.
But his little blonde whirlwind had launched herself to the centre of the group and was chattering excitedly.
He managed a casual smile as he greeted them all, careful not to let his gaze linger too long on that one face.
“Hi. How’s things?”
“We’re going to build a sandcastle,” Noah announced.
“A great big one.”
“Sounds good. Can I help?”
“My daddy builds the bestest sandcastles in the whole world,” Robyn proclaimed proudly, spreading her arms wide.
Noah looked doubtful.
He’d been the foreman in this enterprise, and was afraid he would have to relinquish his position.
Liam grinned at him.
“I’m good at digging. But you’ll have to tell me what to do.”
The little boy conceded a nod.
“We have to start by making the moat. You can help to dig.”
“Right.”
The space was chosen — nice and flat, not too many pebbles.
The outline was marked out, colourful plastic buckets and spades distributed and instructions given.
All the children began to dig, chattering with excitement.
“Mummy, come and help,” Noah demanded.
Lisa shook her head.
“I have to stay with the baby. But Auntie Cassie will help if you ask nicely.”
“Yes please, Auntie Cassie.”
Cassie laughed and levered herself to her feet.
“Okay, I’m coming.”
Liam edged discreetly round to the far side of the excavation so there would be no risk of finding himself too close to her.
But then he found himself opposite her.
He couldn’t quite prevent himself from watching as she hunkered down among the children, her eyes sparkling with fun as she took a yellow plastic spade and began to dig, as instructed by their small foreman.
She was wearing that bright orange swimsuit again, with a pair of shorts.
She must have been in for a swim as the damp fabric clung to every curve of her body like a second skin .
.
.
No .
He forced his gaze away.
That was a path he didn’t want to tread.
Robyn’s curiosity had been drawn to this new person in her world.
“Have you hurted your arm?” she asked, pointing at Cassie’s shoulder.
“No.” Cassie smiled down at her.
“It’s a tattoo.”
“What’s a tappoo?”
“It’s a pattern drawn on your skin, like this. People have all sorts of them.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Of course.”
Robyn stroked the design tentatively with one finger.
“It’s pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“Does it wash off when you go in the sea?”
“No, it never washes off. It’s there forever.”
“Can I have one?”
“You’d better ask your daddy.” She shot him a look that was brimful of teasing amusement.
You deal with it , was the implication.
“Daddy, can I have a tappoo?”
“Absolutely not!” Dammit, in his anxiety he’d spoken more sharply than he’d intended.
But a tattoo?
What next?
Piercings?
“Oh, Daddeee!”
As her little bottom lip wobbled, he recognised the start of a wail.
Heavens, had he brought up a spoiled little girl who would throw a tantrum whenever she didn’t get her own way?
For a moment he thought she was going to throw down her spade and stalk off, but as he struggled to find a way to retrieve the situation before it got out of hand, Cassie came to his rescue.
“Sorry, sweetie, but you can’t have one until you’re eighteen years old, which is a long time yet. But you can have a pretend one, if Daddy says that’s okay.”
“Can I, Daddy?” The child launched herself at him, hugging his neck.
“Can I have a pretend tappoo?”
“I suppose so.” He laughed, shaking his head in resignation.
“You draw all over everything anyway, so having a drawing on yourself won’t be much different.”
“I want one like yours.” Now she launched herself at Cassie, clambering into her lap and raising a pleading face.
“Okay.” Cassie’s eyes were dancing with amusement.
“But we can’t do it right now. We need the proper pens to do it with.”
Liam half expected the child to demand to have it done instantly.
But maybe just because Cassie was new to her, or maybe there was something in her tone, the child agreed happily and picked up her spade again, returning to her sandcastle duties.
He smiled at Cassie across the excavation.
“Thank you,” he mouthed silently.
She smiled back.
“No worries.”
He sat back on his heels watching his small daughter, her face intent, her little pink tongue peeping out from the corner of her lips as she helped to dig the moat deeper.
He could kick himself for speaking to her so sharply.
Much as he adored her, there were times when he just couldn’t seem to get it right.
Maybe he was overanxious, overthinking everything.
Struggling to be both father and mother to her.
Maybe he should try to relax a little more.
His mother had told him more than once that there was no such thing as perfect parenting.
* * *
Cassie was doing her best not to let her gaze linger too much on Liam Ellis.
It wasn’t easy.
She’d met a lot of fit, good-looking men on her travels — men who did a lot of water sports or other adventure activities tended to have good bodies.
Liam didn’t have such a muscular build as them — but then too much muscle didn’t really do it for her.
It was enough that he filled out that T-shirt so nicely.
And those strong forearms and wrists, covered with a smattering of dark, curling hair .
.
.
Strong wrists had always been her thing.
He and Robyn were laughing together as they competed to shovel sand onto the mound that would become the castle, the earlier storm forgotten.
Cassie watched them covertly as she wielded her own plastic spade.
It was lovely to see the way he was with his little girl.
She was a pretty little thing, with that cap of golden curls.
She must take after her mother.
That would be a double-edged sword for him — a constant reminder of the woman he had loved and lost.
If she hadn’t left .
.
.
Liam smiled at her across the construction works.
“How’s your grandmother?”
“Not good. She came home from the hospital yesterday.”
“Oh?” He looked surprised.
“She’s well enough?”
“Not really. But she’s very obstinate. Ollie spoke to her consultant and they agreed it would probably do more harm to refuse to let her have her way. Besides,” she added wryly, “she might be frail but she’s very definitely mentally competent, so really they have to abide by what she wants.”
“Still, it’ll be nice for you to have her home,” he suggested.
“It will. Though she can be pretty hard to manage.”
He laughed.
“At her age, I suppose she’s entitled to be.”
“That’s pretty much what she said.”
With most of the construction of the sandcastle completed, Cassie retreated to the picnic blanket beside the windbreak.
The children continued the task of installing turrets, arranging pebbles strategically around the fortifications, and digging a long canal up from the sea to fill the moat.
The dogs had come back from their romp.
Lisa dug a collapsible bowl out of her capacious bag and filled it from a water bottle.
They lapped it up before collapsing, exhausted, in the shade.
“It’s busier than ever down here today,” Cassie remarked, glancing along the beach.
Hardly an inch of sand wasn’t covered with beach towels and deckchairs and sun loungers.
The shallows were full of excited children, squealing as they skipped over the waves.
The beach shop up on the Esplanade must have very nearly sold out of frisbees and beach balls, lilos and colourful inflatable rings, some shaped like flamingos or dinosaurs.
“It’ll be worse than this in a couple of weeks when it’s the bank holiday. Half the country will be heading for the seaside.”
“Oh lord, yes. I’d forgotten that. The roads’ll be snarled up all the way from Bristol.”
“And everyone will be fighting to squeeze into a space in the car parks, struggling to figure out how to use the parking app. I bet there’ll be a few road-rage incidents before the weekend’s over.”
“Lucky us, eh?” Cassie nodded towards the steps down from Cliff Road.
“Out of the front door and straight down onto the beach.”
“Mmm. It’s just . . . Oh, I know it’s good for the businesses that rely on the tourists. I suppose that’s the compensation for the way the town gets overrun every summer. It just makes it so hard for anyone else trying to find a place to buy or even rent when so many houses are second homes or Airbnbs. I worry what it’ll be like for Noah and Kyra when they’re grown up, whether they’ll even be able to live here.”
“That’s a long time ahead,” Cassie reminded her gently.
Lisa laughed, shaking her head.
“Oh, ignore me, grumbling like some old bloke at the end of the bar. I’m not really complaining — I love it here. And it’s perfect for the kids.” She pulled her phone out of her bag.
“Hey, that’s a fine-looking castle,” she called out to them.
“I’m going to take a photograph.”
The castle was indeed magnificent — three feet square and two high, ready to repel all invaders.
The construction team posed proudly behind it as Lisa took several snaps.
“I can show these to Nanna. She’ll love seeing them.”
Robyn came bouncing over.
“Auntie Cassie, Auntie Cassie, we’re going in swimming. Are you coming too?”
She slanted a swift glance up at Liam.
Swimming.
He’d be taking off his T-shirt, his jeans, stripping down to his swimming togs.
She could cope with that.
Of course she could .
.
.
“Yes, I’m coming swimming,” she confirmed.
The little ones all whooped with delight, racing to scramble out of their T-shirts and shorts.
They all had their swimming togs on underneath, so this was clearly planned for.
“Wait,” Lisa called sternly.
“No one goes till everyone goes.”
“Are you coming in?” Cassie asked.
Lisa shook her head, indicating the baby sleeping in her carrier.
Cassie slipped out of her shorts, then they all lined up to race down the beach to the sea, the dogs bounding ahead, barking with excitement.
They splashed into the water, squealing and jumping over the waves as they rippled in over the sand.
The children could all swim, though more with enthusiasm than style.
After splashing around for a while, they decided on a race.
The two grown-ups were instructed to stand twenty yards apart to serve as the start and finish posts, and Liam called, “One, two, three . . . go!”
“Come on, come on!” Cassie cheered them loudly, clapping her hands as they surged towards her with whirling arms and flapping feet.
A little to her surprise it was Amy, the smallest, who won.
“Well done!” she applauded.
“That was brilliant. You all did really well.”
Liam smiled across at her, and she smiled back, and for that fleeting moment she felt as though she had slipped back in time .
.
.
“Daddy, Daddy, throw me.”
Liam laughed, his delight in his little daughter evident.
“Come on, then.” He made a stirrup with his hands and lifted her up.
Giggling, she leaped off, curling up her knees to make the biggest splash she could as she landed on the water.
“Me too!” pleaded Amy.
He lifted her, and she did a star jump from his hands.
Of course, Robyn wanted to do that too, then Noah joined in to do a rather ungainly back-flip.
What was it about seeing a man playing like that with small children?
Somehow it made him seem sexier than ever.
And dammit, he was sexier than any man had a right to be.
His skin was bronzed by the sun, every muscle defined, his wide chest smattered with dark, curling hair.
She ached to reach out and touch .
.
.
To cool her heated blood she plunged under the waves, staying down for as long as she could.
She came up to find Robyn hanging around her neck.
“I fort you was drownding!” she protested.
Cassie laughed, hugging the child.
“No, I wasn’t — don’t worry. I was holding my breath.”
“Holding your breath?”
“That’s right.”
“Me too!” Clinging tightly to Cassie’s hands, the child took in a huge whooping breath and ducked down below the surface, staying down for a few seconds, then bounced up again in an explosion of bubbles.
“I did it, I did it!”
Of course, they all wanted to play that game, competing to stay down the longest.
Finally, they began to tire, and reluctantly trudged back up the beach to Lisa.
“Phew!” Cassie laughed as she strolled up out of the water with Liam.
“They’ve got some energy.”
“They’re five years old — it’s in the job description.”
“She’s lovely, your little girl.”
He smiled, pride and pleasure clearly written on his face.
“She can be a little minx.”
“I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry about her pestering you earlier. That tattoo . . . I really shouldn’t have spoken so sharply. It was really rather funny. It’s just . . . I worry. I don’t want her to get spoiled.”
Cassie laughed, shaking her head.
“I don’t think there’s much danger of that. She’s adorable. And it’s really no trouble. I’ll be happy to do it. I sometimes used to do face painting for the kids at Kalagooly. I won’t use face paints, though — you can’t get the fine lines, and it’d probably rub off too quickly. Felt-tip pens would be better.”
“Right.”
Oh, that smile .
.
.
It could still do funny things to her insides, even after all these years.
“Kalagooly? That was where you worked?”
“Uh-huh. It’s in Queensland, not far from Straddie Island — Stradbroke Island. It’s a fabulous place. It’s got some of the best surfing in the world, and it’s close to the Great Barrier Reef. I worked there for three years.”
“Why did you leave?”
“My visa was running out, so I moved to New Zealand.”
“Oh.” He glanced down at the tattoo on her shoulder.
“That’s pretty. Does it represent something special?”
“Of course.” She laughed, her eyes dancing.
“All Maori tattoos represent something special. This is a poroporo flower, which represents staying rooted to the earth, and the feather represents flying high.”
He quirked one dark eyebrow.
“Sounds like a bit of a contradiction.”
“Of course. I’m a Gemini — I’m full of contradictions.”
Liam watched Cassie as she skipped away up the beach and flopped down on the blanket beside her sister.
She’d changed.
Well, that wasn’t surprising, after ten years.
As a teenager she’d been bright, sparkling, eager for life.
Now she seemed more .
.
.
grounded, comfortable in her own skin.
Though the sparkle was still there.
Contradictions — the flower and the feather.
Lisa was putting sun cream on the children.
When that task was finished, with much wriggling and giggling, they went off to review the work on their sandcastle and add a few more strategic fortifications.
Cassie had taken the sun cream and was spreading it on those long, elegant legs.
Liam sat down beside her, watching her discreetly.
Memories were swirling through his head, mingling with the image of her he saw now, and he didn’t know what to make of it all.
Hobo had come over to check if he had any treats for him.
He snaffled the proffered biscuit, then turned his attention to Cassie.
She held out her hand for him to sniff.
Apparently, he approved, moving in closer to sniff her neck.
Then with a contented sigh he lay down, his head on her lap.
Liam laughed.
“He likes you.”
“He’s cute.” She stroked the dog’s whiskery grey head and scritched the magic spot behind his ear.
“How did he lose his leg?”
Liam frowned sharply.
“He caught it on a piece of barbed wire. It was the sort of minor injury that could have been dealt with in moments — a couple of stitches and a course of antibiotics. Unfortunately, his owner neglected it and it became infected, to the point where the infection spread to the bone and he developed sepsis. By then the only option was to amputate.”
“Oh, poor Hobo.” The dog recognised her tone and lifted his head, his liquid-brown eyes playing up to the sympathy — possibly in the hope of another treat.
“What a brave boy you are.” She kissed his nose.
“It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, only having three legs.”
He laughed again.
“He’s too dumb to count them.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and Liam felt an odd little tug in his gut.
The lively teenager he had known ten years ago had grown into a very attractive woman.
“Hello everyone.”
“Debbie! Lovely to see you.”
Cassie scrambled to her feet as her old friend, Amy’s mum, came down the middle steps.
Debbie was small and dainty, like her daughter, with soft brown curls and soft brown eyes.
She and her mother ran the CupCake Café up on the Esplanade.
It was always popular with the locals as well as the holidaymakers for its wonderful home-made cakes and scones.
“It’s lovely to see you too.” Debbie beamed with delight.
She had always tended to be rather shy and subdued, but now she positively glowed.
And the neat little diamond engagement ring on her left hand, glinting in the sun, was the reason why.
“I heard you were back. Gosh, you’re so brown!”
Cassie laughed.
“Lots of good New Zealand sunshine. And you’re getting married in . . . what, three weeks?”
“That’s right.” Her eyes danced with happiness.
“You’re coming?”
“Oh, I’d love to!”
“Of course you must.”
Amy darted over to hug her mother’s legs.
“Mummy, we went in the sea and we raced, and I won!”
“Well done, sweetheart.” Debbie stroked a gentle hand over her daughter’s dark hair.
“We’re quiet in the café at the moment, so I brought some cupcakes down, if anyone wants one?”
That announcement met with instant approval.
The box was ice-cream pink to match the colour the café was painted, the name CupCake Café spelled out in blue, and with three cartoon cupcakes dancing along beside the words.
Inside were six iced cupcakes.
Wide-eyed, the children each solemnly selected their favourite colours, remembering to say, “Thank you.”
Debbie sat down on the picnic blanket and handed round the remaining cakes to the grown-ups.
“How long are you staying?” she asked Cassie.
“I . . . um . . . I’m not sure yet.” Always that same question, and she still wasn’t sure how to answer it.
Especially with Liam sitting just a few feet behind her.
“And how’s your grandmother?”
“Well, she’s home — she didn’t want to stay in the hospital any longer. But Ollie thinks it could be any time.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. But she’ll be better off at home, if that’s what she wants.”
“That’s what Ollie said.”
“Oh . . .” Debbie’s phone was buzzing, and she pulled it from her pocket.
Her face paled as she glanced at the screen.
“Alan?” Lisa asked quietly.
Debbie nodded, her happy smile gone as she opened the call.
“No, we’re down on the beach, with Lisa and Cassie Channing . . . He’s up at the farm . . . Why are you doing this, Alan?” Her voice cracked.
“You were never that bothered about her before.”
“Causing hassle for her, as usual,” Lisa explained softly to Cassie.
“He doesn’t like it that she’s getting married again, that she’s going to be happy without him. So he’s trying to stop her by threatening to go for custody of Amy.”
“That’s ridiculous . . .”
Liam had heard, and his mouth thinned.
He held out his hand to Debbie, gesturing for her to give him the phone.
“Gowan? This is Liam Ellis. Yes, Ellis. Mrs Ellis is my mum. Remember that lurcher pup you took into her surgery a couple of months ago?” Hobo lifted his head, as if some canine instinct had told him he was being talked about.
“Mum remembers. Running with fleas and badly undernourished, and with a nasty injury to his leg which should have been treated weeks sooner?”
Liam’s voice held a barely restrained anger.
“She remembers how you slammed out of the surgery, refusing to pay for the treatment. You were lucky the RSPCA decided not to prosecute, but only because you signed the poor thing over to her. She’d have been happy to see you in court. And she’d be happy to see you in court now if you don’t leave Debbie alone.”
If Debbie’s ex-husband was trying to argue, Liam wasn’t giving him the chance to get a word in edgeways.
“Do you seriously think any judge is going to let you have custody of a five-year-old child if you can’t even look after a puppy properly?” A brief pause.
“Yes, I suggest you do that. And if any of us hear that you’ve been hassling Debbie, you’re likely to find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Goodbye.”
Debbie’s eyes were wide as he cut the call and handed the phone back to her with a grin.
“He’s reconsidered.”
“Thank you.” She laughed, half in disbelief.
“Wow! I didn’t really think he could get custody, that he was just trying to stir up trouble. But I was afraid Bill would get drawn into it, and . . . well . . .”
Liam gave her a quick hug.
“Don’t you worry about it. All your friends have got your back. Just enjoy getting ready for your wedding.”
“Thank you.” She shook her head.
“Well, I’d better be getting back.” She picked up the empty cake box.
“I promised Mum I’d only be a few minutes. Bye, everyone.”
“That scumbag,” Lisa remarked with uncharacteristic acid when Debbie had gone.
“If Tom Cullen gets to hear what’s been going on, he’d sort him out quick enough.”
Liam laughed.
“He did once, years ago. And quite by coincidence, it was because of Vicky. She was down here on holiday, staying with old Molly. Gowan and some of his stupid gang were bullying her, here on the beach, and Tom thumped him one. Gowan ran away crying like a baby! He’s been wary of Tom ever since.”
“Ace!” Lisa punched the air.
“Anyway, it looks like the tide’s coming in, and I have a pile of paperwork waiting for me, plus a couple of foals who are due for their vaccinations. Come along, Robyn.” He held out his hand to her.
“Say bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye.” The child smiled angelically, waving as she put her small hand in her father’s large one, and they walked away along the beach, Hobo hirpling along beside them on his three legs.
Cassie watched them go, all the way to the ramp up to the Memorial Gardens.
That casual, athletic stride — it had been one of the things she had found so attractive about him all those years ago.
That phone call .
.
.
She’d never heard him use that tone — ice-cold menace.
She doubted that he or Tom Cullen would ever resort to violence, but when it came to cruelty to animals .
.
.
And she’d hold their beer.
She became aware that Lisa was watching her, a small smile curving her mouth.
“What?”
Lisa shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Anyway, tide’s coming in. Time to go.” She began to pack up the towels and discarded swimsuits and stowed them in her seemingly bottomless mum-bag.
“Noah, you can carry the windbreak for Mummy, and Amy, you can take the empty cola cans and put them in your mummy’s recycling bin.”
The slope of the beach was long and shallow, so that once the tide turned, it came in quite quickly.
All the other beachgoers were gathering up their belongings too and hurrying up the steps to the Esplanade.
The amusement arcade and the ice-cream parlour would soon be doing a roaring trade, and so would Debbie’s café.
“The kids are going to lose their sandcastle soon,” Cassie remarked as they climbed the cliff steps.
“That’s the way of sandcastles,” her sister responded, laughing.
“They know it always happens, but they can come back another time and build a new one. In a funny sort of way, I think it’s quite good for them.”
“How’s that?”
“They learn to cope with disappointment, and that there’s always hope for tomorrow.”
Cassie laughed.
“How philosophical!”
“It comes to you as you grow older.”
“Ah! I remember when you dyed your hair purple. Now you’re the local GP’s wife and all grown up and sensible.”
“For now,” Lisa conceded.
“But that purple dye’s only on hold. It could break out again at any time.”
* * *
The house was quiet when Liam and Robyn arrived home.
He let Hobo off his lead and went in search of his sister-in-law.
He found her in the small room which she had taken over as an office to serve all the business management for the practice.
She was sitting at her desk behind a computer and a stack of paperwork, her curly red hair caught up in a loose bunch on top of her head, her expression conveying unmistakable exasperation as he appeared in the doorway.
“There you are! Have you checked those invoices yet?”
“Auntie Julia, we been to the beach,” Robyn announced before he could come up with a better excuse.
“Amy was there, and Noah, and we built the biggest, bestest sandcastle ever !”
“Did you, Honey-bun? You look as if you’ve been in the sea, too.”
“We did. We raced, and Amy won. And Auntie Cassie came too, and she showed me how to breathe under the water.”
Julia lifted an enquiring eyebrow.
“No, sweetie,” Liam corrected, trying to suppress his laughter.
“How to not breathe under the water. Remember? You take a great big breath first, then you duck down.”
“Ah.” Julia nodded, smiling at the little girl.
“So Auntie Cassie was there too?” The glance she slanted at Liam was full of teasing humour.
“Yes. She’s ever so pretty and ever so nice, and she’s got a tappoo . . . here.” The child touched her shoulder to indicate the placement.
“And she’s going to draw one for me too.”
“A tappoo?”
“A tattoo. A pretend one,” Liam explained quietly.
“Ah . . .”
“Anyway . . .” He smiled down at his daughter.
“I think I need to hose you down to get all that sand and gunge off you.”
“The invoices?” Julia prompted.
He might have known it was a vain hope that she would forget them.
“Oh . . . I’ll see to them later.”
“You know you won’t. You’ve got appointments booked all afternoon, and it’s darts night tonight. Do them now, while I pop this one in the shower and make us some lunch. And she can tell me all about Auntie Cassie too,” she added with a mischievous wink.
Liam sighed and took the folder from her.
“Okay. I need a quick shower myself first, then I’ll look at them.”
Upstairs in the bathroom he peeled off his clothes and stepped under the shower, letting the warm water flow down over his body.
How did the sand manage to get everywhere — in his hair, in his armpits, in his groin?
Once it was all washed down the drain he soaped himself all over, working up a good lather.
That wink from Julia — would everyone be speculating now that Cassie was back?
In a small place like Sturcombe, anyone’s business was everyone’s business, and people had long memories.
Though it was ten years ago, that brief fling— barely six months, from March to September — would be fuel for the gossips now.
They’d all be watching, latching onto every look, every word.
It could drive you crazy — and he could well imagine that it was just the sort of thing that would drive Cassie to leave again.
Cassie .
.
.
He ran his hand down over his wet chest.
She used to do that, when they’d been swimming — run her hand over his chest, teasing her fingers through the curly dark hair that grew there, laughing up at him.
And he’d run his hands over her body, savouring every contour — the long curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, the firm swell of her breasts .
.
.
Dammit!
Invoices .
They’d stop him letting his mind run on memories of Cassandra Channing and her soft, silky skin .
.
.