The Returning Tide Page 20

  Lara scanned through the paperwork. One hundred and fifty guests and three courses. The first course would be served in the form of canapés while everyone was drinking champagne and the official photographs were taking place. During that time the main course of local beef and lamb would be cooked on site on barbecues. The vegetarian provision was a quiche made with local Cornish cheese, a white Stilton, and caramelised onions; these would be made this morning and served warm. Fresh salads and vegetables including new potatoes would be served on platters distributed on the long tables. Going through the pages again, she looked for the diagram of the seating plan in relation to the cooking and service areas.

  The reception was being held in a tepee. The information included a picture of one used for another wedding. It was certainly different. Lara tried to picture a tepee in the setting but memories of her own reception by the sea kept blotting the images out. Hopefully Peta Rowse and her future husband would be luckier than Lara had been, but she didn’t hold out much hope for any marriages these days. Something was different in society as a whole. Life was more disposable.

  The brownies she’d help to make yesterday were cut and packed and she checked all the fridges and supplies twice before heading back into the bungalow to change. Cassie had insisted that once everything had started Lara was to change out of chef’s whites and mix among the guests to make sure things were happening correctly. Her team knew what to do but Cassie had said she would feel happier if Lara was on hand.

  Opening the wardrobe in her room, Lara stared at her available clothes, but saw little to no option for what to wear. She hadn’t packed to go to an Indian summer wedding. Snowy snaked around her legs as she continued searching and tried to decide on a solution. Finally, she admitted defeat: she would have to see if Cassie had anything suitable. They were the same size but even as kids their tastes had been very different.

  Snowy followed her through the kitchen, knocking off the wedding photo of her great-grandparents perched on the kitchen table. She bent down and placed the picture back, wishing there was more she could uncover about it. With the little information she had, there was virtually no chance of discovering more, unless someone was still alive who remembered Grandie. Leo was making enquiries through Grandie’s West Point connections, so maybe something might come up that way.

  ‘Well, Snowy, what do you think Cassie will have in there?’ Lara opened the closet in Cassie’s room and looked at the array of floral dresses. They suited Cassie so well but Lara didn’t see herself as a flowery sort of girl. However, she was drawn to a vintage rose-covered print on a sundress that reminded her of the forties. She took it out and found a lovely pair of red shoes with a strap across the ankle that matched the roses in the print. The heel was quite chunky and not too high so that would work on the lawns. There was nothing worse than being at an outdoor event and having your shoes sinking into the grass.

  ‘This’ll do, Snowy. Don’t you think?’ Lara held the dress up in front of herself and looked in the mirror. She’d sweep her hair up in a 1940s roll to complete the picture. Wind rattled the glass in the window behind her. She wondered if she was being too optimistic with a sundress, but Cassie must have a small cardigan that would go over it.

  The cat followed her while she did her hair then she located a cardigan before pulling on a pair of black trousers and tee-shirt to be worn under her chef’s white jacket. She would change into the dress once she was confident that all was running smoothly.

  She had time for one more cup of coffee before the team arrived, then they would set off to Windward. Snowy walked along the sofa and rubbed up against her as she went to the kitchen. Lara stroked his long white fur head to tail. He definitely seemed like he’d moved in permanently. She knew she should take him to the vet or something to see if he was microchipped – his owner might be worried about him. Cassie had asked around, and the grapevine had come back with no one missing a cat. Snowy meowed and jumped down before wandering to the kitchen where he stood expectantly in front of the cupboard that Lara had recently filled with cat food. She was aware that she had possibly gone completely mad over this cat, but at least he seemed as happy as any cat could be.

  Windward, Mawnan Smith, Falmouth, Cornwall

  12 September 2015

  The setting took Lara’s breath away. On her previous two visits she’d never ventured to the side of the house facing the sea. The lawn stretched out to a cliff that then dropped to a beach below. She walked through the set-up while Cassie’s catering team assembled the barbecues to the side of the house. In the middle of the lawn was a massive damp tepee. It was huge, with three peaks from which the structure was formed. Everything was dripping from the night’s rainstorm and she was grateful she’d remembered to throw some wellington boots into the car at the last minute. Although the sun shone brightly, it would need to build up some heat to dry everything out. She looked out into the bay. The sky was clear of the clouds that had arrived yesterday. Things were so sharp she felt she was watching high-definition television. Raindrops clung to the needles of the pine tree and the light shining through them cast a rainbow onto the fabric of the tepee. Was it a promise of good things to come? She hoped it was for the bride and groom.

  The refrigerated van was parked close to the kitchen. Lara took a swig of coffee as she surveyed the site, noting the bank of restrooms discreetly placed a small distance from the house, behind the cover of a few trees. It was all laid out well and thus far didn’t look overtly ‘weddingy’. Cassie had mentioned that Peta was a dress designer. Lara’s appreciation of the bride’s talent grew as she caught sight of one of the bridesmaids dashing through the kitchen in a burgundy dress that faded to soft pink on the floaty skirt about her. It wasn’t your average bridesmaid dress. She then saw another whose dress began with a soft pink flattering her skin tone until it became burgundy by her ankles. As more bridesmaids passed the window, she saw that each dress was different – some were strapless and sophisticated but others were more in the style of a 1950s diva. Lara was impressed, and wondered what the bride had chosen for herself.

  Tipping the remains of the coffee out, she ventured into the tepee to be met by a steely-haired woman creating wonderful little flower arrangements at regular intervals on the long tables. The effect was charming and would beautifully complement what Lara had seen of the dresses.

  ‘Hello, are you Cassie?’

  ‘No, sadly her mother’s in hospital. I’m Lara.’

  ‘Victoria Roberts,’ the woman said as she stuck another anemone into a small vase. She stopped then stood straight. Her bearing was impressive and Lara wondered if she was about to be yelled at. ‘How disappointing. Nothing too serious, I hope.’ Before Lara could reply, the woman asked, ‘Does Peta know?’

  Lara nodded. ‘I spoke to her yesterday.’

  ‘Good. You don’t need extra stress on your wedding day.’

  ‘True.’ Lara counted the tables, noting the dance floor at one end of the tepee and several sofas at the other. ‘The flowers look wonderful.’

  ‘Thank you. Bride’s choice.’

  Lara left the woman completing her task and walked to the table that held the wedding cake. The smooth royal icing was covered in delicate autumn leaves and wrapped in tendrils of honeysuckle and jasmine. It was a work of art. She turned back to the dance floor. By the time the music was on and the floor filled with happy wedding guests, she would be long gone.

  Peta stood in my bedroom in front of my grandmother’s tall mirror, just as my sister had on this day seventy years ago. My mother had insisted I be there at the wedding, but she hadn’t seemed to understand how hard it had been. Even then her mind was slipping from reality. Only six people on that bright beautiful September day knew the whole truth and each had been scarred by it in different ways. All these years later, I only knew what had happened to my father, my mother, my grandmother and me.

  Today, the photographer clicked away and I tried to ignore him while I placed my grandmo
ther’s veil on Peta’s head. Somehow this antique worked beautifully with the dress she’d designed and made. She was the picture of innocence and love despite the thin gold ring in her nose and graduated pearls going up her ears.

  I secured the last hairpin in place and she covered my hand resting on her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’ I smiled, looking at her happiness. That was what would take me through today.

  ‘For everything.’

  I fussed with the fall of the veil, noting the holes that created the pattern and made it both beautiful and delicate. ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Her finger lifted my head. ‘You have always been here for me.’

  I swallowed. ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too and I don’t say it enough.’

  I turned from her happy beauty. I would not let the past cloud today.

  ‘I don’t know what’s causing you pain but I feel it.’ She gave me a hug and wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. ‘I don’t know if you are thinking about my parents. And that makes me sad too, but we will both come through this.’ She kissed my cheek. ‘And look. I was right about the weather.’ The morning had broken dry and blowy, but as if by magic the air had stilled. It was as fresh as if God had wiped the day clean, and the sun was shining intensely. If a breeze didn’t stir up soon it threatened to become steamy, but I knew nothing would make Peta wilt. She looked as fresh as a breath of sweetly scented air.

  ‘So lovely.’

  ‘Thank you. I feel it too.’ She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes smiling at me.

  Her chief bridesmaid tapped on the door. ‘The little ones are ready.’

  ‘Great, thanks. All set, Gran?’

  I nodded and let her friends do the final adjustments, putting the flower crown in place before Peta turned and walked out into the hallway. She looked like a fairy goddess, so far from my sister’s fragile visage seventy years ago. Back then I couldn’t look at how frightened Amelia had been about marrying a man she barely knew. Her eyes had shown that worry but my own pain blocked it out. Peta’s showed nothing but radiance.

  The scene out on the landing was chaos. Small children darted in and out of the adults. The grown-up bridesmaids were doing their best to marshal the children into order on the stairs for a photo. Jack stood quietly in front of his bedroom. He wore an expression of grim determination and I longed to dash across the landing and tell him it would be all right. But that wasn’t possible and I had no idea if it would be all right. What was certain was that everyone looked beautiful. The young girls were in multi-coloured tutus and the little boys in patchwork waistcoats. In fact, Jack wore a similar waistcoat under his morning coat. He wasn’t too different from these little energetic boys. It was easy to remember him at this age, forever presenting me with birds with broken wings and lost kittens. He had always wanted to fix everything – I’d assumed he’d become a vet or a doctor. Where had all that need to fix things gone? I sighed, realising it had died with his father. Jack had tried to make him see that he was still loved but George hadn’t been able to see anything beyond the loss of his wife.

  Peta looked up from the chaos and held out a hand to her brother. He smiled at her and my heart leapt just a little. The little boy was still in there and he would do anything for his sister, even this.

  Twenty-Two

  HMS Attack, Portland, Dorset

  28 April 1944

  There was a tap on the cabin door and Pat walked in with a cup of tea. ‘Hi. The superintendent sent me up with this.’ She squinted at me. ‘I think you might need it.’

  I nodded, my head throbbing. Bright sunlight was streaming through the cabin window, and every time I looked at it a sharp pain seemed to cut my head in half. Death might be preferable to this. The taste of the whisky was stale on my tongue.

  ‘I don’t know what has happened.’ Pat shuddered. ‘But there have been bodies of young Americans brought onto shore all morning. It’s awful.’ She sat on the end of my bed as I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image that her words had created.

  Bobby.

  ‘Thankfully I heard from Joe.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘God, I’m sorry. Have you heard from Bobby? Joe didn’t mention him.’

  I opened my eyes and took the cup and saucer from her, blowing on the tea to cool it down. The oily puddles on the tea’s surface moved around. ‘No.’

  Pat glanced at her watch. ‘It’s ten fifty.’

  I nodded, and my brain crashed against the sides of my skull. I winced.

  Pat looked at my uniform on the floor where I had cast it off. ‘Do you need a hand?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll be fine in a minute.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ I placed the cup and saucer on the floor and tried to revive myself. I wouldn’t think about how much my head hurt. It was minor. Somewhere out there so many were dead and their families would be without them. I might have lost Bobby, and that pain would go deeper than anything whisky could inflict. I rocked myself back and forth until I found the strength to put on my uniform then straighten the counterpane on my bed.

  Once I was outside, I could hear the lament of a lone piper. As I neared the dock I saw a convoy of US military trucks lined up. I kept walking although I feared what I would see, my heart breaking with each step. The rear admiral and Commander Rowse were on the rescue motor launch watching the bodies of the dead being taken off as the piper played each soul ashore. Tears flowed down my face. Were these the boys I had heard dying last night? God forbid, was Bobby one of them?

  Commander Rowse looked up, his face ashen but resigned. Such a loss of life. He saw me and I knew I had to pull myself together. I turned from the scene and took in great gulps of air to chase away the cobwebs that were clogging my brain. We’d let those men die last night. I knew it. They were close enough to Portland that help could have reached them. Their deaths were unnecessary and on our hands. I paced. Anger pumped through me until suddenly there was nothing and it was time to go to the meeting.

  An American sergeant with a clipboard stood on duty outside the door to the meeting room. He looked me up and down. ‘Name?’

  ‘Leading Wren Seaton.’ I bit the words out. My hands clenched into fists.

  He stepped back after he had ticked my name off the list. The room was already full. Unfortunately there was only one seat left, right in the front row. If it hadn’t been for my pounding head I would have stood at the back, but I ventured forward to take the seat, scanning the crowd, hoping against hope that I would see Bobby or at least someone I could ask about him. As I sat, I wondered if this was how Amelia felt when she didn’t have news of Eddie. But no, she was better than me, more positive. I had to hold onto hope. Bobby could be in London, or anywhere. I prayed that he was not one of the many bodies I had seen being piped off the boat as I walked to the meeting. Those were the men I’d heard last night. I knew I would always hear them.

  I turned my attention to the American general standing at the front with a chart on an easel and a pointer. Beside him was an admiral from the US Navy as well as the rear admiral. I could see Commander Rowse at the side with a worried frown on his face. The rear admiral stepped forward.

  ‘I can see that we are missing a few people but we need to proceed.’ I studied him as he looked around, making eye contact with many people. ‘Everyone knows why we are here. But I will make it plain now: everything said today is classified and covered by the Official Secrets Act. If anything leaks it will be court-martial, no questions asked. This is genuine and not simply a threat. I am relying on the highest integrity from all of you.’ Again he slowly scanned the room, leaving no one out of his glance, including me.

  ‘What I need from you is to focus on your own key roles. There are lessons to be learned from what has happened and it is important to all those men who have lost their lives that we do learn.’

  The US admiral stepped forward. ‘If you are here, you know that
for the past few nights there have been practice landings on the Dorset beaches. What is clear from last night’s tragedy is that there were mistakes made. Everyone and everything will be investigated and tighter security will follow.’ He cleared his throat. ‘It is imperative.’ He stared at the faces looking at him. ‘I want to thank you all for doing your best in a dire situation, particularly the medics. Many lives were saved thanks to them.’

  Despite his polite words I could see his anger, yet they hadn’t told us anything. I probably knew more than many of the people around me. There had been friendly fire as well as enemy, or at least that was what the men had said.

  ‘No stone will be left unturned until we discover exactly what occurred.’ The US admiral turned and walked to the side of the room. ‘You will each be questioned, and remember that you must not say anything to anyone except Commander Rowse or myself.’

  I looked at the commander. He stood straight but his eyes were weary. I doubted whether he’d been able to grab a few hours of sleep, as I had done.

  The meeting was over. People began to move and when I turned I saw Captain Tucker. His glance met mine before he left the room. I found him waiting for me in the passage outside.

  ‘I have no news.’

  I nodded. It told me what I feared most. Why hadn’t I told Bobby how I felt about him? Now I’d never have the chance. Outside I walked into the thick fog that was rolling in off the sea. ‘No news’ didn’t have to be bad, but it was hard to hold onto hope.