6. River
6
It was long gone ten o’clock, but there was still a faint glow in the sky that caught the swell of the ocean. A silver moon was rising above the horizon and casting a path across the waves.
It was beautiful, thought River, sitting on the sand. A damn sight colder than Australia but, on the plus side, there was no risk of sharks lurking in the water.
It was funny, he thought, pulling his knees up under his chin. He’d been dreading coming back to Brellasham Manor, which held so many bad memories – his parents arguing, slammed doors, his mother crying and his father retreating to the library. He’d tried to block them out, over the years. But, without realising it, he’d blocked out the good memories too.
Heaven’s Cove was a beautiful village in the midst of glorious countryside. Driving through the village this morning, he’d been struck anew by the never-ending charm of its whitewashed cottages and winding lanes. It felt like home.
And being here at the house, seeing Clara again, had reminded him of happy days they’d spent together during school holidays, exploring the moors nearby, climbing trees in the manor grounds, swimming in this cove.
He’d known her for as long as he could remember, and they’d been best friends by the time they hit their teens. She was someone he could talk to about his posh boarding school that he hated, and the deteriorating relationship between his parents. She’d been a good listener and a great keeper of secrets.
They’d been thick as thieves, until Bartie had started joining them. River had never taken much notice of the saying ‘two’s company, three’s a crowd’ until then. Clara was dazzled by older Bartie’s good looks and confidence, and River couldn’t blame her. He’d been rather dazzled too…and diminished.
He glanced through the trees behind him. He could just make out the cottage from here where Mrs N lived and there was a light on in Clara’s bedroom. What was she doing? he wondered.
‘Penny for your thoughts,’ said Bartie, suddenly, making River jump. ‘I saw you from the library window, sitting out here, all on your own. Not thinking of wading into the water, are you? I can’t believe your return to the family fold has been that bad!’
‘It’s not been bad at all. Not really,’ said River, wrong-footed by Bartie’s appearance. ‘It’s good to see my father again, and this place which has hardly changed.’
‘Have you had a good chat with Geoffrey yet?’ asked Bartie, plonking himself down on the sand. ‘About…you know.’
‘No. Not yet. He’s been busy on the phone.’
River didn’t mention that he’d tried to speak to his father but, several excuses later, had given up. He’d got the feeling that his father was trying to avoid him.
Maybe, River told himself, he was simply being overly sensitive after an emotionally heightened day. But ever since he’d left as a teenager with his mother, the relationship with his father had been hard to maintain. They’d met up a few times, when his father was in Australia on business, but he’d never enjoyed those brief visits that were filled with stilted conversation and awkward silences.
River would sit with Geoffrey in some soulless hotel bar or restaurant, wishing he was at home with his mother instead. His mum’s colourful, modern house in Sydney – so different from the manor she’d chosen to leave behind – often rang with her warm laughter. He hadn’t heard his father laugh for a long time.
‘Old Geoff does seem busy but I managed to nab him for ten minutes.’ Bartie grinned. ‘He doesn’t change. Still the same old curmudgeon.’
‘Did you discuss his plans?’ asked River, experiencing a twinge of jealousy because his father had found time for Bartie.
His cousin adopted a more serious expression. ‘We did, and he seems determined to go through with it. It’s a shame, of course.’
River nodded. ‘It’s a real shame. I understand why he sees it as the only way forward but it’ll break his heart.’
‘It’s for the best, though, don’t you think? The best for all of us.’
River supposed so. He hugged his arms around his legs because it was chilly out here, even though Bartie had come outside in his shirtsleeves.
Bartie nudged his shoulder against River’s. ‘Hey, changing the subject…what about Clara Netherway then?’
River glanced at Bartie, who was staring out to sea. ‘What about her?’
‘I didn’t think she’d still be living in Heaven’s Cove so it was a pleasant surprise to find her here. What did you think of her?’
‘What did I think?’ River hesitated. ‘I thought it was good to see her again.’
‘It certainly was,’ snorted Bartie. ‘She was an annoying teenager the last time I saw her, with braces and dreadful plaits. But, boy, she’s changed for the better. You could drown in those big grey eyes and I loved her slightly arsey attitude. There’s something rather…naughty about her, don’t you think?’
‘Mmm,’ said River noncommittally. She’d been slightly arsey with him, but he hadn’t noticed her being the same with his cousin.
‘I know you and Clara were close, back in the day, but I was wondering, do you mind if I have a crack at her, while we’re here?’
River shifted round in the sand until he could make out Bartie’s face in the moonlight. ‘A crack at her?’
Bartie had the good grace to look a little shame-faced. ‘Sorry, that was rather ungentlemanly of me. What I mean is, do you mind if I try to woo her?’
River blinked. ‘Your love life is none of my concern.’
‘I suppose she might be married…’
Was she married? wondered River. Had Clara found the love of her life while he was ten thousand miles away?
‘But she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring,’ continued Bartie. ‘And when I was talking to Mrs N, while she was making up my bed, there was no mention of her daughter having a boyfriend or anything. She’s the type of woman to mention it too.’
‘What about your girlfriend? Mary, was it? You mentioned her during our drive down from London.’
Actually, Bartie had passed the time from Wincanton to Yeovil – a good thirty minutes – telling lurid tales of his love life. It all sounded far more exciting than River’s, which Bartie hadn’t enquired about beyond ascertaining that he was currently single.
‘You mean Mariella, my beautiful fiery Italian. She’s not really my girlfriend. It’s just casual between us. We both do our own thing, if you know what I mean.’
River raised an eyebrow, wondering if Mariella realised that their relationship was ‘just casual’.
‘But what about you, mate?’ asked Bartie, giving River’s shoulder another nudge. ‘You’ve been very tight-lipped about your love life.’
‘There’s not much to tell. I’ve gone out with a few Australian women but there’s been no one serious.’ Except Kitty, who had broken his heart two years ago. But he wasn’t about to tell Bartie that. He doubted that Bartie had ever had his heart broken. He was the heartbreaker in his relationships.
What if he broke Clara’s heart? River pushed down his concerns because Bartie was right. Clara was all grown up now – a very different person from the girl he’d known all those years ago. And her heart was her business and hers alone.
‘Well, that’s great we’ve got that sorted,’ said Bartie. He got to his feet and slapped River on the back. ‘And it’s so good to be back at Brellasham Manor with you. If only for a short while.’ He looked around the shadowed beach and at the black waves breaking onto the sand. ‘It’s a bit weird sitting on your own in the dark so don’t stay out here too long.’
‘I won’t. I’ll be in, in a minute.’
River watched Bartie make his way through the trees and cross the grass, silhouetted by light coming from the library. Then he turned his attention once more to the sea.
It felt surreal to be sitting here, with an owl hooting in the trees behind him and the sand growing colder. Audrey had left Brellasham Manor, and his mother had, too. Neither of them would ever return but here he was, back in his childhood home that held so many memories. He could only hope that coming back hadn’t been a horrible mistake.