Chapter 17
KATE
Whether you will or no.
Kate has cleaned her cottage and cleared the clutter.
Pia is coming for coffee—the main reason for the decluttering—and later, Linda is coming over for a pen-and-wash lesson.
Guilt about not confessing to being JoJo Rose made her offer.
Although she might have suggested it anyway.
She thinks it will be nice to hang out with Linda.
She likes her cottage, her biggest investment from when she was making money through the JoJo Rose range.
But she hadn’t wanted any of her china paintings on the walls, since it was too much of a reminder of her parents’ deaths.
This was also the reason she never gave interviews about being the creator of the range.
Since her girls left home, she has rearranged the accommodation to suit herself and redecorated.
Mainly blues and greens, but not a “seaside” theme.
She has avoided that, seeing too much of it in the second homes that proliferate along the coast. She is unsure how she feels about the second-home owners.
She likes her neighbors and appreciates that this area should be shared, plus she realizes that tourism is an important industry.
But she is pleased that the council is looking to make sure new builds have to be primary residences.
She worries about the young people trying to stay in the area, who now can’t afford houses.
She knows the fire station and the RNLI struggle, as crew members need to live near and be on call, but sometimes can’t afford the housing.
But important as this is, she now has other things on her mind.
How to make her home acceptable to a supremely stylish Scandinavian.
She throws a few more things into the cupboards.
She imagines Pia’s home is effortlessly minimalist. She places Ellie’s sewing machine ready in the hallway. She hopes Pia might find it useful.
Pia arrives with Noy (wearing a smart green quilted coat today) and a plate of what she says is brunsviger—small squares of cake marbled with caramelized butter. “It’s what I always have with my sisters when we meet for coffee.”
Kate bites into the gooey, crispy caramel top. The cake beneath is light and fluffy and absolutely delicious.
“These are fantastic,” Kate declares appreciatively.
Pia murmurs modestly, but Kate can tell she is pleased.
They are settled in chairs in the kitchen, a raised brick and wood extension that has views out over the creek.
The day is calm, and the water is flowing fast; the creek is now a broad channel of water.
Across it, the sea blight and sea purslane are becoming submerged.
To Kate, it always feels like the landscape is sinking beneath the water, not being flooded by it.
She feels that if she were to walk on the furthest shore now, she would no longer find any land, or her feet would punch holes in it.
In an hour or so, all will be water. On the far shore, three children are slipping and sliding into the creek, their laughter mixing with the sound of gulls.
They are local children, and Kate has no fear that they will become stranded by the tide.
They have their small rowboat within easy reach.
She misses her girls with a sudden longing and sends them a quick photo of the view.
Tempting them back? She really must chase up her boat-building friend who is giving The Rose an overhaul.
It would be good to see her moored by the edge of the creek.
Waiting. Like her. A sign of hope that one day they might all squeeze aboard once more.
She will try to organize a group FaceTime on the weekend.
Timings can be difficult: Bella working with her women’s soccer team in Texas; Ellie in Patagonia, for the time being at least; and Jess teaching math in Edinburgh.
Or should she just call Jess? Still no baby news.
But she doesn’t want to be one of those mothers who keep asking.
As Kate pours coffee, Pia tells her about her own family and growing up on a promontory surrounded by water.
She knows this type of joy and understands the ebb and flow, the change of landscape from a creek that meanders, carving a path in mud and sand, to being surrounded by a breadth of water that brings the ocean within touching distance.
She describes her parents’ current home on an island.
Both her parents had been dentists. Her mother a dental surgeon.
She worries a little about their isolation now that they are older.
“But that is the way they like it,” she tells Kate.
“What do you miss about Denmark?” Kate asks.
“Apart from my family, I suppose it is the little things,” Pia says, thoughtfully.
“I don’t often say, as I would not like people to think that I don’t like living here in England.
And I do, I really do.” She smiles suddenly.
“It has been wonderful to be part of this group. It does make me feel much more part of the community.” She nibbles on a piece of brunsviger.
“I think it is not so much what I miss, but sometimes the things I don’t understand. ”
“Such as?” Kate is intrigued.
“Why do you buy horrible sandwiches from garages?”
Kate grins, “Well, I don’t. Or not that often.”
“We would never do that. Lunch is an important part of the day. Something you savor. And when we have friends over . . .” Pia leans forward, warming to her theme.
“We would buy the best ingredients to make a meal, but would not create a feast as the English sometimes do, with tables groaning with food. We would offer our guests the most special thing we can afford, but it might be something small.” She shakes her head, “And Danish bacon. You all think we eat this stuff! We do not cook bacon for breakfast. Ham, yes, beautiful ham, but hot bacon! No thank you.”
“Anything else?” Kate is enjoying seeing Pia open up.
“Yes! Conversations. In our London office, each morning, people greet each other and ask the same thing of everyone they meet. Then the next day they do it all over again.”
Kate is laughing now.
This brings Pia up short. She looks perplexed. “But I do wish I understood your humor more. After all the years of living here, I do not always know when people are joking. Your humor is very dry.”
“You made that joke about Tash,” Kate reassures her.
“Yes, but I thought about what I was going to say before I arrived.”
Kate thinks this is rather sweet.
“When you mentioned Tash making a model of Noy,” Pia grins, “I thought you might be serious. It is just the sort of thing Brenda would like.” She stops, looking stricken, and Kate can’t help but laugh as she remembers Pia’s dog walker waving Noy’s paw at them through the café window.
“I should not have said that. Brenda is really very good,” Pia sighs.
“She certainly seems to like looking after Noy.”
“She really spoils him,” Pia says, stroking Noy, who is looking lovingly up at her. “In her house, she has a special bed for him and toys. She has even knitted him his own blanket with his name on it.”
“Do you mind?” Kate asks, wondering about the slight frown on Pia’s face.
“No, not really. How can I when she makes my life so much easier for me? It’s just that . . . I wish she wouldn’t call him Noy Boy. And she does feed him too many treats. I worry he will get fat.”
Kate suddenly has an image of Kate Moss with a potbelly. She decides to ask something else. “Do you spend much time in London these days?”
Pia shrugs. “I try not to. I did spend most of my time there. I was in a relationship for a long time. I guess I am finding it hard to adjust. But I can’t say I miss London.”
“It can be tough,” Kate sympathizes. But what does she know?
Since Doug left, she has hardly dated. Her attempts at online dating were, at best, funny anecdotes that her friends enjoyed.
She gave up in the end, deciding she didn’t want her love life to be the butt of any joke.
Still, she knows quite a few people it has worked for.
“Have you thought about getting out there again?”
Pia smiles mischievously at her. “Let’s say it has crossed my mind.”
Kate takes this and her thoughts to the stove to make more coffee. When she is back, Pia is looking around her. “This is a lovely cottage. Very you.”
“I am imagining your house is very simple and stylish.”
“Such a stereotype, Kate,” she chides. Then laughs. “But absolutely right. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but I live in the wooden house set back from the road, beside the green with that great deli.”
“I know it! Wow, that is a lovely house.”
“You must come over sometime and I will cook for you.”
“I’d love that.” Kate chooses her next words carefully. She wants to approach this sensitively. “What did your ex-partner do? Were they a lawyer too?”
Pia glances at her consideringly. The emphasis had been very slight. A brushstroke of inquiry.
“She was in the police. She was in silver command. Dealing with potential riot situations. A huge amount of responsibility.”
“Do you mind me asking why it ended?”
Pia stares out of the window for a while, watching a flock of geese spanning the sky.
“We were both wrapped up in our work, of course we were. It is very much what drew us together in the first place. But I think in the end, Grace wanted different things. She is much more of a party person than I am, and I think she had a thing with a woman at work. She says not, but I don’t know .
. .” She looks back at Kate. “We weren’t very kind to each other at the end. I regret that.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate says, thinking of some of the things she said to Doug. “I know it’s a cliché, but time can help with that.”
“The thing is, I worry she was right about me.”
“In what way?”
“She said that I struggle to share myself with people. That I wouldn’t put myself out for other people, and was selfish and didn’t have any real friends. And that a whippet didn’t count.” Pia tries to smile.
“Well, you have friends now,” Kate assures her, remembering Pia’s comments about comparing herself to someone.
Perhaps Grace was someone who made friends easily, and Pia felt at a disadvantage?
Had she sometimes felt lonely when Doug filled their home with his yachty friends?
For a moment, she wonders if Bardy is lonely.
He had mentioned two sons, but they must be well and truly grown up now.
And Tay? How much did they rely on each other?
Pia interrupts her thoughts. “And you? I know you said you were divorced. Have you . . .”
“Not really. I was bringing up my teenage girls on my own, so I didn’t have time. And then my sister got sick. Then I got sick. Not ideal for romance, really.”
“I’m sorry. And now?”
Kate smiles a little sadly. “There is someone I like, but I’m afraid he’s got his eye on someone else.”
Pia stands up. “Would you show me round your cottage, and maybe then we could take Noy for a walk?”
Her confidences seem to be at an end.
As it is high tide, they take the path which overlooks what is now a broad bay of water.
The path is edged on one side by a bank of statuesque lime-green angelica hemmed with short, purple Muscari; on the other is a hawthorn hedge, separating them from a field of pungent yellow rapeseed.
But overlaying it all is the scent of the sea and the sound of birds.
Noy either walks contentedly sandwiched between the two of them or shoots off at speed, like a greyhound over the flat.
He runs with a fluidity that Kate thinks is joyous to watch.
When he suddenly stops to snap at a cabbage white butterfly and then dig at something in the bank, he is transformed from an elegant, rippling wave of muscle to an excitable, scrabbling thing, all ears and paws.
Kate begins to understand why Pia likes him so much.
When Pia spots some walkers ahead, she calls Noy to heel and puts him on the leash.
“I love to see him run, but I know some bird-watchers are not always keen to have dogs around.”
They chat about art, music, times in London, and places they have visited in Norfolk. Nothing more is said about relationships until they have returned to the cottage and Pia is getting into her car. She looks up at Kate from the driver’s seat and smiles.
“You’ve never thought about, maybe . . .” Pia doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to.
“No. It’s always been men for me. Which, when you think what idiots most men are, is madness.”
Pia grins, “True. You have no idea what you are missing.”
Kate waves her off and thinks she is probably right.
How does she feel? Flattered? Yes. Surprised? A little. Not so much by Pia’s sexuality, but by the fact that it is clear that she likes Kate.
Poor Bardy.
But appropriate somehow.
Which play was it? Twelfth Night?
A traditional Shakespearean love triangle.