Chapter Fifty
‘Yes, Mrs Tremain.’
There was a squawk on the end of the line that made Ruan’s ears hurt.
‘Apologies, yes, Polly .’ Polly’s guffaw almost shook the phone so Ruan held it slightly away from his ear until she finished relaying her message.
He’d called her privately after his trip to Scotland to let her know how his visit to Kathleen had gone and to thank her for connecting them.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘See you next Wednesday. Yes, I’ll remind Hector that you’re having lunch with him the Saturday after next.’
His smile faded the moment he ended the call. Even Polly Tremain in full flow couldn’t wipe out the gloom that had descended since they’d returned from Scotland and Tammy had discovered he’d put Rosewarne up for sale.
Even as the idea of letting go of his dream had wormed its way into his mind, he’d known that selling up was the only option for him – and for Tammy. Neither of them had made the other happier, that was for sure, and judging by their last meeting, she’d accepted that.
He had to get away from Seaspray and from Cornwall, where every glimpse of the shimmering sea or the white beaches or the roses in the gardens reminded him how futile its wild beauty was without her.
It was clear that his presence had put her under intolerable pressure and he loved her too much to be another burden weighing on her and stopping her from moving on.
He worked all afternoon, eating a biscuit at his desk for lunch because he wanted to finish earlier so he could set off straight from the office to visit his parents. He wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news that he was selling Seaspray and probably looking for another job.
They’d be gutted if they thought he was going to move even further away than Cornwall, but Ruan felt he owed them some honesty. They’d ask why and he’d made up his mind to tell them the truth about Walter and Kathleen and Tammy.
At four o’clock, his stomach grumbled loudly enough for one of the legal assistants to glance up from his desk and grimace. His doomed love life might have made him lose sleep, but it hadn’t put him off his food, he reflected grimly.
‘I’m calling it a day,’ Ruan said, picking up his jacket and heading for the door. ‘See you on Monday.’
‘OK,’ the assistant said. ‘Enjoy Bristol.’
He managed a smile. ‘I’ll try.’
Ten minutes later, he’d managed to get hold of the last pasty in the nearby baker’s and ate it sitting on a bench under the scrutiny of a beady-eyed seagull perched on a wall.
Then it was back to the office car park, and he was on his way out of town, crawling along the A30 through the Friday afternoon traffic.
Every second took him further away from Cornwall and Tammy … though not quickly enough.