The Holiday Escape, page 16
‘Just around this corner,’ I said, opening the window and letting a wave of very warm air into the cool interior, ‘is my favourite cottage in this entire village.’
Having checked there was nothing behind him, Logan slowed down even more and I was able to take in the thatched roof, deep set tiny windows, rickety gate and cottage garden.
‘They all look pretty to me,’ he said, his gaze tracking to either side of the road. ‘They’re chocolate box perfect, aren’t they?’
‘You’re right,’ I agreed, ‘but that pink one was always the one I looked out for when we drove this route when I was younger. And Mum loved that mustard coloured one,’ I said, pointing out a larger, but still cosy, abode on the opposite side. ‘But obviously not as much as she loved Hollyhock Cottage,’ I added, with a fond smile, while wondering if the childhood game of favourite house spotting had been the first thing to ignite my passion for old places.
‘From what your dad told me the other day, it sounds as though your mum felt melded to the place,’ Logan said softly, as I closed the window and sat back again. ‘His description made me think of Mrs Wilcox in Howards End. Do you know who I mean?’
‘Yes,’ I said. As well as Hardy, Mum had loved the novels of Forster and I had read them too, so I knew how beautifully he had written of Ruth Wilcox’s spiritual connection to her inherited home. ‘And you’re right. Mum loved the very foundations of the cottage and she knew its history far better than anyone else thanks to her years working for Beatrice.’
‘She was the woman who left your parents the house?’
‘That’s right,’ I confirmed, my gaze falling again on the view. The verges were full of wildflowers, cheerful bright, white daisies being the most prolific. ‘I used to spend my school holidays trying to hide from Beatrice during the years I was considered too young to be left to fend for myself back in Shellcombe.’
‘You really didn’t like going to the cottage?’
I’d mentioned it before, but not elaborated.
‘Not at all,’ I said, wrinkling my nose. ‘Mum and Dad were always busy. I used to get bored helping Dad in the garden and Beatrice used to terrify me, hence the hiding. She was a formidable woman, though an extremely generous one as it turned out. I used to stay out of her way as much as I could but now, I sometimes wonder if I’d have bonded better with the cottage and the cove if I’d got to know her better. I know I would still have the terrifying memories of what happened to Mum, but I do sometimes wonder about that.’
I knew I hadn’t become attached to the cottage when I was younger because I resented having to be there, missing out on playing with Flora and Freddie, who were mostly left to their own devices, but even now, the place still sometimes felt more Beatrice’s, than ours.
That was most likely down to Kasuku’s lingering and loud presence, but I wondered if Beatrice herself still loitered there, too. Dad had suggested he could feel Mum’s presence, so it wasn’t unrealistic to think that the woman who had lived the whole of her life there was hanging about, too. I shuddered at the thought, as I imagined her drifting about the rooms and scrutinising how we had decorated and dressed them.
‘Um,’ Logan thoughtfully said. ‘Hindsight is a mixed blessing, isn’t it?’
‘God, yes,’ I sighed.
‘So,’ he said, turning the air-con up a notch, ‘one way or another, you’ve actually had a connection to Hollyhock Cottage your whole life.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I suppose I have.’
I hadn’t really considered that before, but he was right. I had as much history with the place as Mum and Dad did.
‘I didn’t know that,’ he muttered, tapping the steering wheel.
‘There’s no reason why you should.’ I shrugged, wondering why he was frowning so much.
‘I guess not,’ he said, catching my eye and turning the frown into a smile. ‘So, what else can you tell me about the redoubtable Beatrice Baxter?’
It took the rest of the journey for me to fill him in and explain who else had benefited from her philanthropic bequests. Logan was amazed to hear how far-reaching her generosity had been.
‘It sounds to me,’ he said, pulling into a parking space, ‘that even since she died, Beatrice has supported practically every local business in Kittiwake Cove.’
‘She has,’ I confirmed. ‘And her legacy has formed a bond between the people who live and work there permanently, too.’
‘You should write all that down somewhere,’ he seriously suggested. ‘So much of this sort of thing gets forgotten as people get older and other’s leave.’
‘I’m leaving myself,’ I reminded him. ‘I haven’t got time to start writing about Beatrice Baxter.’
‘Even so,’ he said thoughtfully.
He took a moment to process everything I’d told him and I wondered if he was always keen to learn so much about the places he visited. His quizzing had almost tipped into interrogation, but I supposed it was nice that he was so interested. I had furnished him with all the answers I could and gone into detail in the hope that it would stop him thinking about his uncle. I had been surprised by how much I could remember.
‘Come on then,’ I said, prompting him when he didn’t move. ‘It’s almost time for our tour.’
Not only had my rambling kept him engaged, but it had also stopped my nerves about visiting Max Gate taking too tight a hold. However, as we set off towards the property, a lump began to form in my throat and I carried it the entire way around the house. We had almost reached the end, when it got the better of me.
Logan seemed fine and didn’t notice the rush of tears. Consequently, I was able to look, unobserved, at the writing desk and book of poetry where the tour ended and allow the treasured memory of Mum doing the same thing to wash over me. Her favourite poem was An August Midnight and she had been ecstatic to find the little tome open on that very page, just as it was for me then.
The words of the two short verses swam on the page as my tears continued to flow, but it didn’t matter because I knew them by heart.
‘An August Midnight,’ said Logan, coming to stand next to me.
He then proceeded to read the verses aloud, which made me sniff as I wiped my eyes on the bundle of tissues I’d had the foresight to carry with me.
‘How lovely,’ he said, smiling at the guide who was watching us.
‘I think so,’ they smiled back, before nodding at me. ‘And I can see your partner thinks so, too.’
‘Oh Ally,’ Logan gasped, when he realised the state I was in. ‘Whatever is it?’
‘I’m all right.’ I swallowed. ‘I’m fine. It’s just that this was Mum’s favourite poem and the desk was set up exactly like this the last time I visited with her.’
‘Oh, my goodness,’ he said. ‘Come on.’ He took my hand and led me back through the house and into the garden. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, after giving me another minute to compose myself.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m fine. Honestly.’
He tenderly kissed the back of my hand and then gently let it go.
‘I hadn’t realised that you’d visited here with your mum,’ he said. ‘I never would have suggested you come with me if I had.’
‘In that case,’ I sniffed, giving him a watery smile, ‘I’m pleased you didn’t know because I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. I knew I’d feel something as we walked around, but it wasn’t until I saw that poem…’
I had to stop talking because my bottom lip had started to wobble again.
‘Sorry,’ I apologised, as a few more tears made a bid for freedom and I hastily swiped them away.
‘I’m the one who should be apologising,’ Logan insistently said. ‘I should have realised—’
‘No, you shouldn’t,’ I cut in. ‘It was obviously important to your uncle that you should come here and I’m delighted that I could accompany you. I mean it.’
Given that he was grieving over a far more recent loss than mine, I should have been the one comforting him. There must have been a reason why his uncle had wanted him to come to Max Gate, but I didn’t ask if he had worked out what it was. Had Logan wanted me to know, he would have already told me.
‘Come on,’ I said, as my tears started to dry. ‘Let’s have a look around the garden and the outside of the house and you wanted to pick up some leaflets, didn’t you?’ I was determined to take more of the place in and let it fill up my well of love for properties of the past, which was currently running rather low. ‘And,’ I reminded him, ‘you promised me afternoon tea, didn’t you?’
‘I did,’ he said, reaching for my hand again in a gesture that felt entirely natural. ‘And I promise, there’ll be nothing triggering about that.’
I didn’t contradict him, but I knew that would depend on which tearoom he had booked.
Chapter 16
As much as I had enjoyed spending time with Logan and as delicious as the afternoon tea, in a tearoom I hadn’t visited before, had been, I found myself in the highly unusual position of being more than keen to get back to the cottage by the end of the afternoon.
The trip had been truly lovely, but the emotions it had triggered left me feeling exhausted and I just wanted to hide out in my room until I recovered. However, the sensation of overwhelm increased tenfold before I got there because when Logan dropped me off, I found Dad peacefully dozing in a deckchair with Mum’s battered copy of Hardy’s poems in his lap.
I didn’t sleep well that night and before I went to check the courtyard rooms and refill the vases, I scribbled down a few things about Beatrice, as Logan had suggested I should. I hadn’t done it because he had told me to, but because the information had been floating about in my head all night and writing it down freed me from thinking about it.
As I filled the pages of a previously unused notebook, I wondered at the wisdom of my decision to keep going out with Logan and bid a fond farewell to the county. If the day before was any sort of indicator, I would be an emotional wreck by the end of the season. However, given that I’d let him down so badly before, I felt committed to seeing the endeavour through.
‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ Flora frowned when we collided on the landing ahead of our trip to the pub that evening. ‘Why so fancy?’
‘It’s not fancy,’ I responded, looking down at the second dress in two days that I’d picked out of my wardrobe.
She was right though. It was a bit OTT for a regular Friday night in The Ship.
‘Logan’s going to assume this is for his benefit,’ Flora said, rolling her eyes.
‘Of course, he won’t,’ I tutted, stuffing the lip gloss I’d been about to reapply into the dress pocket. ‘Besides, he’s seen me looking a whole lot fancier than this.’
Compared to the sleek look I had initially adopted in Barcelona, my current outfit was definitely dress down Friday.
‘That’s as maybe,’ Flora shrugged, setting off downstairs, ‘but you should make him aware that the effort you’ve gone to is to impress Tara, not him.’
I stopped dead behind her and she spun around to look at me.
‘What?’ she demanded. ‘It’s obvious she’s going to be there tonight.’
‘How is it obvious?’ I gasped. ‘I haven’t mentioned her name once.’
‘Exactly,’ Flora said wisely. ‘Radio silence is your most unique tell and the look of relief on your face when I said I’d come tonight was a dead giveaway, too.’
‘And you’re still coming, knowing she’ll be there?’
‘Hell yeah. I want to get this reunion over with. And I’m coming to keep an eye on you, too,’ she said.
‘Me?’ I frowned. ‘What have I done that requires you keeping an eye on me?’
‘Fallen under Tara’s spell, that’s what,’ Flora said crossly. ‘I’ve no idea why, but you’re clearly in awe of her again.’
‘I am not,’ I hotly denied.
‘Yes, you are,’ she batted back, looking almost amused. ‘Why else would you go to the bother of dressing up to go for a drink? She’s cast a spell on you, just like she did to both of us when she first arrived, wearing all the right labels and saying all the cool things.’
‘I’m not sixteen,’ I huffed, but I knew I sounded it.
And Flora was right of course. Tara looked exactly like the woman I wanted to be and I had made an effort to try to impress her, just like I had in high school. I felt a bit pathetic and wanted to go and get changed, but Flora wasn’t done with me yet.
‘No,’ Flora said, ‘you’re not a teenager and neither am I. You haven’t forgotten how things ended between us and Tara when we were, have you?’
‘Of course, I haven’t—’ I started, but she cut me off.
‘Good,’ she said, running down the last few steps and grabbing her bag. ‘Let’s go and find Logan then. You can warn him about Tara on the way. Give him the chance to erect an anti-bitch barrier. That’s assuming he’ll want to ward her off, once he’s met her.’
The thought of him not wanting to ward her off made my stomach churn. I abandoned the decision to change outfits and went to say goodnight to Dad instead.
* * *
The pub was busy by the time Flora, Logan and I arrived, but thankfully not so packed that you couldn’t make yourself heard. I was relieved because the last thing the sensitive situation called for was raised voices.
There was no sign of Tara. Something else I was pleased about because it gave Flora the chance to have a drink and chill. Had she been bombarded the second we crossed the threshold; she most likely would have walked straight out again.
‘I’ll get these,’ Logan offered, as we made our way to the bar.
He pulled out his wallet and dropped it and I picked it up for him.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked, as his eyes scanned the bar.
His gaze swung back to me.
‘You’ve got me feeling jittery,’ he laughed, taking the wallet from me. ‘Now you’ve explained the reason for tonight’s trip, I’m thinking it’s going to be more pistols at dawn than a laidback pint.’
‘Sorry,’ I apologised. ‘I suppose I did ramp the drama up a bit.’
‘Or maybe,’ said Flora, ‘you didn’t ramp it up enough. I’m not beyond resorting to pistols if the situation requires it.’
‘She’s joking,’ I said, giving her a shove, as Logan looked like he was getting ready to leave. ‘Why don’t you go and find us a table, Flora?’
She winked at Logan and sauntered off. To the casual observer, her swagger suggested she didn’t have a care in the world, but I knew what was really going on beneath the surface.
‘Right,’ I said to Logan, hoping that a beer might take the edge off. ‘Let’s get some drinks.’
An hour later, there was still no sign of Tara and I was feeling less fond of her again. She’d been practically hounding me to set things up and now she’d stood us up. I checked my phone, but there was nothing. No message, text or missed call. She really was the limit.
‘No word from the great one?’ Flora sardonically asked. ‘Maybe she’s engrossed in breaking hearts somewhere else further along the coast. Or perhaps, not turning up was part of her plan to further piss me off, all along.’
Logan was standing next to the pool table, where Flora had just thrashed him for the third time. I felt bad that I hadn’t paid him much attention, but I had been distracted waiting for the bad penny to turn up.
‘Fancy another game?’ Flora asked him, nodding at the table.
He checked his phone then put it away again.
‘No, thanks,’ he said, shoving his cue back in the old oak barrel next to the fireplace. ‘I’ve had enough humiliation for one night.’
‘You and me both,’ I muttered.
‘I’ll go and get another round in,’ he said. ‘Same again?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Flora, setting the table up for another game.
‘Yeah, I’ll have a pint,’ I said, standing up. ‘But I’ll get these.’
‘I don’t mind,’ he said. He was already on his way to the door. ‘I don’t want Flora goading me into playing again.’
‘That was you, actually playing, was it?’ she teased and he shook his head.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I said, steering him away from the door. ‘This round is on me.’
‘Here,’ said Flora, handing the poor guy a different cue. ‘See if this one brings you more luck.’
Logan winced as Flora broke with all the force of a piston. The balls scattered across the baize, two rolling into pockets at the furthest end of the table. Logan groaned and I laughed and left them to it.
The laughter died on my lips however, as I pushed my way into the bar at the exact moment that Tara walked in. She looked livid, but her expression changed the second she spotted me.
‘Oh my God,’ she gasped, rushing over. ‘I bet you thought I wasn’t coming, didn’t you?’ She didn’t give me a chance to answer. ‘Of course you did and I daresay this has done nothing to raise me in Flora’s estimation. I know I’m late, but I’ve had such a bad day.’
‘Well,’ I lied, ‘I’m sure Flora will understand. Especially if you were stuck at work.’
‘I was,’ she said, pulling me in for a hug and enveloping me in her perfume. ‘And you are sweet, Ally, but I know I’ve burned my bridges. Again.’
‘You might have done,’ I grimaced. ‘Shall we go and find out? Flora’s playing pool in the snug with a friend.’
‘I bet she’s thrashing them.’ Tara tentatively smiled.
‘Of course she is.’ I smiled back.
‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Let’s get a drink and go and watch. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to get changed. I’ve literally come straight from a meeting. You by the way,’ she added, looking me up and down, ‘look gorgeous. I bet that fabric’s vintage, isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ I confirmed, as she spun me around. ‘And you look fabulous, too.’ I reciprocated. ‘So sleek and smart.’
She put her hands on her slender waist.
‘Hardly appropriate for a Friday night in the pub,’ she smiled, her hair swinging forward as she looked down at her shoes. ‘But what my job requires, and what yours will soon, too,’ she added with a wink.
