Chapter Four
“Hi, Mum.” Cassie strolled into the kitchen and dumped the shopping bags on the counter.
“Mmm, something looks good.” She snaffled a pinch of the pastry her mother was kneading.
Helen pushed her hand away before she could steal any more.
“What took you so long? I was about to send out a search party.”
“Brenda in the shop kept me chatting.” She took the frozen stuff from the bags and began to stack it into the freezer.
“Then I popped round to visit Arthur Crocombe. Brenda said he’d had a nasty fall.”
“He did, but he’s doing okay now. His son in Canada has arranged for a full-time carer for him.”
“Oh, yes. I met him. Marcus. Nice chap, ex-army medic, and Arthur seems to like him. Mmm, blackberry-and-apple pie. My favourite. How’s Nanna?”
“Fine. She’s been dozing most of the morning, but she ate a bit of lunch — without too much grumbling.”
Cassie laughed.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He had to go into school. They’re doing a safety inspection.”
“But it’s the holidays!”
“Apparently it’s urgent.” Helen sprinkled some flour onto the marble pastry board and began rolling out the dough.
“Something to do with the roof this time.”
Cassie watched her mother fondly.
So many times she had sat here in the kitchen while she baked.
She would be sixty next year.
She had put on a little weight in the past ten years, but not much.
There were threads of silver in her dark hair, and a few lines around her eyes — mostly of laughter.
Helen Channing had been the deputy head of Fowey Road Primary School — which had been a serious embarrassment for Cassie and her brother and sister when they had been pupils there themselves.
She had taken early retirement five years ago to care for her mother-in-law.
Though whether coping with Edie Channing was easier or harder than coping with a hundred or so lively five- to eleven-year-olds remained a moot point.
“You’re still wearing that old apron!” Cassie remarked.
“It must be donkey’s years old.”
“It’s my favourite. By the way, I was thinking. If you like, I could put you on my car insurance. That way you can borrow it whenever you need to, even if it’s only for a few weeks.”
“That would be good. Thank you.”
A small stab of guilt pricked at her.
Her mother was being matter-of-fact about it, in her usual way, but those words — “only for a few weeks”— glossed over the surface of a much deeper current.
“If the bus service is as bad as it used to be, it could come in very handy.”
Helen rolled her eyes.
“It’s worse. Once an hour, even in high season. Off season, it’s every two.”
Oh yes, the buses.
She remembered a long campaign by the locals to try to improve the service, but apparently it still hadn’t achieved anything.
With the train station demolished years ago when the rail line had been closed down, Sturcombe had dwindled into a backwater, no longer the thriving holiday destination it had once been.
Most people would stop off at the popular resorts of East Devon — Beer and Exmouth and Dawlish — or drive straight past on their way to Cornwall.
Though it could still attract crowds at the height of the season, by October it would lapse almost into hibernation for the winter.
She knew that many people loved the place and never wanted to leave — her parents, her sister and her friends, even her brother.
But for her, the lure of what was beyond the horizon had always tugged at her heart.
Now .
.
.
she really didn’t know.
She’d had some wonderful adventures — but home was home.
Dammit, she wasn’t going to think about that right now.
One day at a time was enough.
“Would you like a cuppa?” she asked her mum.
“Yes, please. And you could make one for Nanna while you’re at it.”
“Sure.” She filled the kettle and got the mugs down from the cupboard.
“Liam Ellis was at the beach this morning, with his little girl,” she remarked, hoping her tone conveyed only casual interest.
“She’s such a pretty little thing. She saw my tattoo and wanted one like it. She called it a ‘tappoo’.”
Helen laughed as she reached for the greased pie dish and slid the rolled-out pastry onto it.
“He seems to be making a very good job of bringing her up on his own.”
“He is.” Helen dusted off her hands and turned to check the oven temperature.
“Fortunately, he’s got the family around him to help.”
“Even so, it must be tough for him.” Cassie fiddled unnecessarily with the mugs, lining up the handles.
“Lisa said Natalie used to work for Ollie.”
“Natalie? Yes, she did. He always said she was the best receptionist he’d ever had. She could even manage Edie.”
Cassie’s eyes danced.
“That’s quite an achievement.”
Her mum was looking at her the same way Lisa had — questioning, slightly sceptical.
As if doubting that she really wasn’t interested in reviving that old relationship.
Which she wasn’t.
Too much water had flowed under the bridge, they were different people now.
There could be no going back.
The kettle had boiled, and she focused on making the tea, refusing to even notice that her hand was shaking slightly.
She brought her mother’s mug over to the table.
“I’ll take my tea in and sit with Nanna for a while,” she suggested.
“Take her a couple of chocolate biscuits too. Not too many — she’ll scoff the lot, and I’m not sure they’d be good for her.”
Cassie laughed.
“She’d tell you that she’s too old to be bothered about what’s good for her.”
She set Nanna’s teacup down on a tray with a plate of biscuits.
No mug for Nanna — it had to be a cup and saucer from her second-best bone china tea service, which had been brought down from her house when she had moved.
Careful not to let any tea spill in the saucer, Cassie carried the tray along the hall to the half-open door.
“Nanna?”
The old lady was sitting in her chair, her eyes closed, her frail hands resting on the crocheted blanket covering her knees.
As Cassie quietly stepped into the room, the old lady opened her eyes, glaring fiercely.
“Ah, you’ve brought me a cup of tea. About time, too. My mouth’s as dry as the Sahara Desert.” The sight of the chocolate biscuits mellowed her instantly.
“Biscuits. Good girl.”
Cassie set the tea tray down on the side table.
“What about your teeth?”
“Ugh!” The old lady dismissed the suggestion with a snort of disgust.
“Never bother with ’em. Make my mouth sore.”
“They might be better if you’d let the dentist fit them properly,” Cassie offered gently.
“Dentists! As bad as doctors. And they call me a fussy old woman! I’ve got nothing on them for fussy, the lot of ’em. Now, come and sit by your old Nanna and talk to me.”
Cassie concealed her eye-roll as she went to fetch a chair so that she could sit close to her grandmother.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Pretty well, considering I’m dying. Oh, don’t look so upset about it — I’m quite settled to it in my mind. It’s time. Ninety-three years is more than enough for anyone.” She reached over for a biscuit and dunked it in her tea.
“You know, I was just fifteen when I first met your grandfather. He was a cadet at the Royal Naval College in Dartmouth.” She smiled dreamily.
“I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever met.”
Cassie had heard the story many times, but she wasn’t going to interrupt Nanna’s happy reminiscences.
“I’ve seen his photos.” She glanced at the old wedding photo on the sideboard.
“He certainly was handsome. He could have been a film star.”
It was the right thing to say.
Nanna beamed.
“He could, too. When we went out together, all the girls envied me for being on his arm.”
“And I bet the boys envied him just as much, for having you.”
Nanna chuckled.
“Well, yes — maybe they did, maybe they did.” She went on nodding to herself, seeming to drift into memories.
“You didn’t get married for quite a few years after you met, did you?” Cassie prompted.
“No. He had his heart set on a career at sea.” Nanna sighed.
“It had been his ambition since he was ten years old, to be the captain of a Royal Navy ship. I knew I couldn’t ask him to give that up for me. If he had, sooner or later he would have started to feel restless, and in the end he would have resented me for holding him back.” She fixed Cassie with a look full of meaning.
“So, he followed his dream, and I waited. It was the right thing to do.”
Cassie acknowledged the truth of that with a wry smile.
“Just like it was probably right for me too, to go away. But you were lucky, you married him in the end, so you both got what you wanted.”
“I did. Fifty-two years we were married.” She closed her eyes again.
“What’s meant to be is meant to be.”
She seemed to have fallen asleep again.
Cassie sipped her own tea, her mind drifting back in time.
Nanna had always understood her thirst to travel — she said she had inherited the wanderlust gene from her grandfather.
It was Nanna who had encouraged her to believe that she could make the dream come true.
Who had nudged her into taking her PADI diving certificates, paying for the courses as a birthday present.
Who had suggested that she look on the internet for information about how to get a work visa for the USA.
Then when she was seventeen, she had met Liam Ellis.
Well, she had known him all her life, of course — he had been one of her brother’s best friends since they were at school.
But she’d just been Paul’s kid sister, tagging along with the gang, probably a bit of a tomboy, determined not to be left out.
But that Easter he’d come home from university in Bristol to help out in his dad’s veterinary practice.
And of course he’d been invited to Lisa’s twenty-first birthday party.
The memories were still so vivid .
.
.
* * *
The house was crowded.
The furniture had been moved to make space, and people were dancing in the sitting room, nattering in the kitchen, queuing for the bathroom.
And probably doing other things in Lisa’s and Paul’s bedrooms among the coats.
The big joke was that Lisa’s boyfriend Ollie and his medical student mates had brought along a stack of cardboard urinal bottles for people to drink out of instead of glasses.
Cassie had made a bit of an effort to look nice.
Her mum had taken her into Exeter to get her hair trimmed, and the hairdresser had suggested she change to a centre parting.
And Mum had bought her a pretty top in a soft emerald green, with a handkerchief hem.
Though she’d insisted on wearing it with her usual jeans.
She’d been carting a bag of empty beer cans out to dump them in the dustbin.
As she came back into the kitchen, she found Liam Ellis spreading a lump of French bread with a thick layer of butter.
“Oh!” Her heart thumped.
He turned and smiled at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as they skimmed over her.
“Hello. I was just nicking some bread. I came straight down from Bristol and I haven’t had any supper.”
“Oh, that’s fine.” She felt as if she’d been running.
“Help yourself — there’s plenty. Would you like some ham or cheese with it?”
“Cheese would be good.”
She turned to the fridge, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush of pink that had risen to her cheeks.
“Here you are. Cheddar or Brie?”
“Cheddar will be fine.”
She got the knife out of the drawer, cut him a thick wedge, and put it on his bread.
He flashed her another of those smiles as he bit into it.
“Great, thanks.”
“Would you like some more?”
“No. Maybe later.” He smiled again as he finished the snack, and held out his hand.
“Come and have a dance with me.”
That smile — it made her insides melt.
She put her hand into his and let him lead her into the sitting room where an old Rolling Stones album of her mother’s had everyone rocking.
In spite of the press of people, he managed to make enough space for them.
He didn’t put his arms round her.
He just laid a hand on her hip, and they moved together to the music.
It was difficult to hold a conversation, but Liam leaned down to speak close to her ear.
“What have you been getting up to lately?”
“Oh, just studying for my A levels. That hasn’t left me much time for anything else.”
“Not even riding?”
“Sometimes. Lisa and I went up to the moor a couple of weeks ago with Tom and Ollie.”
“Would you like to come out for a ride with me tomorrow? We’ve just taken in a youngster who wasn’t making it on the racecourse. He needs a good outing, but he likes company. You could ride Missie, if you’d like.”
She hesitated, longing to say yes but feeling suddenly shy.
“Oh . . . Okay, yes . . .” She was struggling to project a cool demeanour while excitement was sizzling through her veins.
“Um . . . I’d like that.”
“Tomorrow. Say, two o’clock then?”
“That would be fine.”
She wondered if he could hear her heart beating, so fast that she felt light-headed.
The crowd was shoving them closer together, and she didn’t notice when his arms slid round her.
Was it deliberate?
She let her forehead rest against his shoulder.
Just dancing with him, feeling the warm strength of his body, breathing the subtle male scent of his skin .
.
.
It was after one o’clock in the morning when the party began to wind down.
She and Liam wandered outside and across the road to lean against the wall and look across the bay, bathed in silver moonlight.
So romantic.
And when he tipped up her face to his, and his lips brushed over hers, warm and firm, she felt as if the whole world was slipping away.
It was a magical kiss, tender and demanding.
She’d been kissed before, a couple of times, by callow boys who didn’t know what to do with tongues and noses.
Never like this.
The taste of him, the feel of his silky hair between her fingers .
.
.
Those things would stay with her forever.
They went riding the next day, and many days after that.
They talked and laughed as if they’d been together for years.
And when he went back to university, he phoned or texted her every couple of days, and came home most weekends.
And when he came home for the summer vacation, they spent time together every day.
She could hardly believe that she was living her dream.
But the other dream hadn’t gone away.
It was still there, in internet searches for water-sports centres in Florida and around the Gulf of Mexico, and for how to get a working visa for the US.
And in the PADI diving certificate and RYA power-boat handling qualification she had gained while studying for her A Levels.
She had no idea how she could reconcile the two dreams, so she just pushed the question aside, and kept them in separate boxes in her head.
It was her grandmother who had forced her to face reality.
One afternoon as the date for starting university loomed, Cassie had gone up to her house with the shopping her mother had brought home, and had stayed to sit on a stool at the kitchen table, watching Nanna bake one of her fabulous coffee-and-walnut cakes.
“So then, where do you see yourself in five years’ time if you stay and marry Liam?” Nanna demanded in her usual blunt fashion.
“Well, I . . . I’ll be with him.”
“And?”
“He’ll be qualified.” Why did she sound so hesitant?
“Working with his dad and his brother.”
“And what will you be doing?” The prodding was relentless.
“I don’t know . . .”
“What about your dream of travelling the world?”
“Well, I . . .” Five years.
She would be only twenty-three.
“Maybe he’ll come with me.”
Nanna shook her head.
“Do you really think he will?”
Something seemed to be constricting her throat, making it difficult to speak.
“No.”
Nanna put down her wooden spoon and took both her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze.
“Then you have to choose which dream to follow and which to give up.”
That night, gazing out of her bedroom window at the village and the long crescent of the bay, she felt as if her heart was being torn in half.
She loved Sturcombe, but was it her future — all her future?
If she stayed, would she begin to feel trapped?
Maybe not in the next few months, but what about the next few years?
And though she didn’t want to believe it would happen to her and Liam, she knew that the odds were against a youthful marriage lasting the course.
The crunch came at the end of the summer vacation.
Liam had finished at Bristol and was taking up his internship at an equine medical practice near Exeter.
He had been talking about them getting a flat together when she went to Exeter University.
“I’m . . . not going to Exeter University.”
He frowned sharply.
“But you got great A-level results,” he protested.
“And anyway, they’ve offered you an unconditional place, haven’t they?”
“I know, but . . . I’ve got a job as diving instructor.” There seemed to be a cold weight in her chest, making it difficult to speak.
“In Florida.”
The way he stared at her — shocked, wounded .
.
.
She felt as if her heart was breaking.
* * *
She became aware that her grandmother had opened her eyes and was watching her shrewdly.
“And you followed your dream too.” She smiled, reaching out one thin hand and laying it over Cassie’s.
“I know it was a difficult choice for you, but I was very proud of you for having the courage to do it.”
Cassie nodded.
“It was difficult. But it would have been difficult to stay, too. Maybe not at first, but . . . You were right to make me think about five years down the line.”
Nanna nodded, smug.
“I’m always right.”
“Everything okay?”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder, dragging her mind back from old memories as her mother poked her head round the door.
“Yes, fine.”
“What day is it?” her grandmother demanded.
“The twenty-third of August.”
“No, no, not the date. What day ?”
“Oh. It’s Saturday.”
“Right. So tomorrow will be Sunday. I’m going down to watch the cricket.”
“ What ? Oh, Mama, no! Don’t be silly. You can’t.”
“Don’t call me silly,” Nanna grumped impatiently.
“I can and I will.” Then she grinned toothlessly, her eyes sparkling with humour.
“Don’t fret, I’ll go in my wheelchair. And if that useless son of mine won’t drive me, my little Pickle can push me.”
Helen threw up her hands in exasperation.
“Very well, I’ll see what Ollie says.”
“Huh! If that nincompoop son-in-law of yours tries to say I can’t go, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”