The Returning Tide Page 23

  Impulsively I leaned out of the window and waved. In the past I never would have shown emotion so publicly but now I couldn’t hold it back. I needed Bobby to know exactly how I felt about him. We might not have much more time. The train slowed further and I pulled back from the window and dashed to the door. Not a second could be wasted. My stomach was in happy knots of anticipation. I’d made a decision and Amelia was right. Carpe diem – we might not have a tomorrow but I needed today.

  Once the train had come to a halt, Bobby opened the door and I flung myself into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  ‘That’s quite a hello,’ he said, laughing.

  ‘Hmmm.’ The touch of his sun-warmed skin against mine reassured me he was real, not just a memory. He studied me. I stared back, trying to convey everything that was in my heart. Smiling, he took my hand. The afternoon was beautiful, with the sea so blue and the cliffs in the distance so bright. Everything had a golden glow, and even the barbed wire on the beach didn’t look as threatening.

  The jeep stood by, which meant we could escape inland and forget the madness of the war for a few hours. I intended to make the most of them.

  Bobby was quiet as we left town. Swathes of tight blue buds caught the sunlight that was falling through the trees as we drove into one of the many large areas of woodland.

  Parking the jeep under a tree, he pulled a basket from the back and held out his hand for mine. Like other times when our fingers touched, my heart raced; it knew of my plans. I intended to make Bobby fully mine today. My conversation with Pat was fresh in my mind. Fear and excitement knotted my insides.

  As we walked up the hill I noticed the set of Bobby’s mouth. There was no smile as he squinted against the sun, scanning the horizon. I squeezed his hand. ‘All right?’

  He stopped and kissed my forehead. ‘Sorry, I have something to tell you.’

  I looked up, trying to read him, and knew I didn’t want to hear what he would say. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Let’s eat first.’

  I frowned. The food would taste of sawdust with this hanging over me, but his face was set so I tiptoed and kissed his cheek. He smiled, and once we reached a beautiful field he spread out a blanket and unpacked the food. It was filled with treats. Things I’d taken for granted in the past were to be cherished now, like the sweetness of butter on fresh bread.

  And with that thought, I was suddenly certain what Bobby was going to tell me. He’s being transferred, I told myself. It seemed the only possibility.

  Waiting for his announcement made this feel like it was my last meal. I should have been savouring the experience but I couldn’t. I lay back on the blanket with the wool scratching through my blouse while the heat of the sun warmed my face. My whole body called out to the man not three inches from me, but I didn’t know how to close the gap. I thought of my sister. She would know how.

  He pushed a stray lock of hair off my cheek. My breath stilled. He leaned over me, blocking the sun from my face. His lips touched mine. The salt of the ham and sweetness of the peaches was on his lips. The kiss deepened. I felt the length of his body along mine. I pushed against him and heard his gasp. He pulled me closer. Although I knew what I needed to do, part of me was still afraid, unsure. As his lips travelled to my neck and along my collarbone, sensations built and I moved under him.

  My fingers explored his back, making their way down to the base of his spine, then hesitated before going lower. His hand travelled to my breast. Proper thought disappeared as his mouth soon reached the top of my bra. There was a groan – from me or him, I couldn’t tell. The fabric was pushed aside. His thumb brushed my nipple. My heart stopped and started again when his mouth replaced his fingers. My hands slipped around his torso while our hips moved with their own rhythm.

  A crow cried above and suddenly Bobby pulled back.

  ‘This isn’t right.’

  Cool air circled my flesh where his lips had just been. ‘Don’t stop.’ I kissed his cheek, working my way to his mouth.

  ‘No, we mustn’t.’ He sat up and shifted uncomfortably.

  I lay back shivering. He leant forward and pulled my bra and blouse back into place. ‘I’m so sorry. I lost control.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s not right.’ He stood up and took a couple of steps away, scanning the horizon.

  I closed my eyes. I wanted him so much and he’d just pushed me away. Opening my eyes, I stood and went to him. ‘It is right. I love you.’

  He turned to me, his eyes wide. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘Then what’s wrong?’

  ‘I want to marry you.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  He pulled me into his arms and whispered in my ear, ‘That’s why it’s wrong. I want to do this right. I want to be with you forever and I don’t want us to look back and regret anything.’

  I sighed. ‘We may not have tomorrow.’

  ‘I know. But –’ he kissed me ‘– I love you so much that I never want you to think I didn’t …’ He paused. ‘It’s not easy to explain.’

  I looked up at him. ‘Try?’

  ‘My parents.’

  ‘Yes?’

  He shook his head. ‘They came from very different backgrounds. It caused problems.’

  ‘But they are together.’

  ‘Yes, it worked but not without … a lot of pain on all sides. My father wasn’t Catholic, but my mother was.’

  I frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  He sighed. ‘My father came from a very wealthy family. My mother was an immigrant.’

  ‘Oh.’ I ran through what the implications of that would mean here, but I knew so little about America.

  ‘His parents forbade him to marry.’ He turned from the view and looked at me. ‘They did anyway and they disinherited him.’

  ‘I see.’ But I didn’t at all. His parents loved each other. Surely that was enough?

  ‘I don’t want this to happen to us. I want to do this properly.’ He took my hands in his. This I could understand, even if it was frustrating. ‘You might become pregnant, then if something happened to me …’ He shook his head. ‘We have to be strong.’

  I swallowed. I didn’t want to be strong. I wanted to make love to him right there and then. My body was shouting: We have today, we may not have tomorrow.

  He kissed me before I could protest.

  ‘I’m being transferred.’ He trailed a finger down my face.

  I nodded. I hadn’t wanted to hear the words. Once he left Weymouth, who knew when I’d see him?

  ‘Can you say where?’

  He closed his eyes. ‘No, but … you know it. You love it.’

  Cornwall.

  He stroked my cheek. ‘Say you’ll be my wife.’

  ‘Yes and yes and yes again.’

  ‘We’ll make this happen.’

  I nodded. I knew somehow we would.

  Twenty-Five

  Bodmin Moor, Cornwall

  14 May 1944

  Ipinched myself and it hurt, so this must be happening. I was in a jeep, driving through Cornwall with Bobby, heading to an empty Windward. Mother and Grandmother were in London on a long-overdue visit to Father. I wasn’t sure where Amelia was for I hadn’t had a letter, but no doubt she was having fun. And, just for a change, so was I.

  The hours passed in a blur and off the A30 we found a quiet spot to have tea and a sandwich. The sky was cornflower blue and not a cloud dared mar its surface. I lay back on the grassy hill and closed my eyes, trying to contain the excitement of having Bobby to myself for three days. I had no idea how long it would be before I would see him again. It was simply wonderful that we would be spending the time in Cornwall. My two loves together. My heart would be whole.

  My breath caught. Amelia. I turned to the man at my side. Everything in me called to him. He was my life, and Eddie was hers. Something twisted inside me and I knew part of me would never be complete without her.

  ‘Why the frown?’ He turned and leaned o
n his elbow.

  I squinted. I couldn’t tell him about the hole that my future would have without my sister. ‘I haven’t been home since I went into training almost a year ago.’

  ‘This worries you?’

  ‘Things will have changed.’

  ‘True. Nothing remains the same.’

  ‘Those are wise words.’ His eyes were a deeper blue than the sky as they stared into mine. His love would fill every gap in my life and make a new whole. I wouldn’t worry about the future but only think about the now. I didn’t want to rush ahead – I wanted to slow down time so that each minute would be the equivalent of an hour or a day. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the touch of his fingers resting on my arm.

  ‘A penny for them?’

  ‘Wishing today could go on for ever.’ I opened my eyes and stared into his.

  ‘Lying here by the road?’

  ‘No, just lying in the sunshine with you.’

  He kissed me and filled my entire view. I traced his lips with my finger, wanting to remember their feel. Three days to make memories to hold onto. Big things were about to happen. I sensed but didn’t know for certain. Although Bobby appeared relaxed, he wasn’t.

  He stretched out next to me, our sides touching and our hands entwined. ‘We have hours of driving in front of us.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘We should be moving.’

  ‘If you insist.’ I pushed up onto my elbow and stared at him. His mouth, full and firm, had a smile hovering on it. His eyes were half closed against the sun. The scar on his forehead had healed. I leaned down and kissed it. He groaned and pulled me on top of him. Kissing, we rolled over. ‘I want you so much,’ he whispered just below my ear, sending shivers through me.

  ‘Yes.’ I squirmed with pleasure and we rolled again, this time over and over, gaining momentum until we landed in a heap at the bottom of the hill near the jeep, both of us full of laughter.

  He held out his hand to pull me up and into his arms. ‘That was a close shave.’

  We looked out across the moor with Rough Tor in the distance. He laced his fingers through mine, and we climbed back up the hill, collected the picnic basket then set off again.

  The black sky was filled with stars as we arrived at Windward. The pines scented the soft night.

  ‘You’re home,’ Bobby whispered.

  And I was. Windward was the constant in my life and as I looked at its silhouetted mass against the evening sky I felt a pull to it that had always been there. Amelia and I had been born here, with the sea air in our lungs and the tang of salt in our mouths. Poor Mother had gone into labour early while walking on the beach below the house. The local farmer’s wife had come to the rescue and delivered us. I let the evening wrap around me and embrace me in the feeling of home, of Cornwall.

  Bobby grabbed the bags then took my hand. We crossed the lawn already covered in dew. Walking into the kitchen, all was in darkness. I switched on my torch, and the beam picked out the familiar shapes of the range and the table. There was so much to show him and so little time. I longed to take him down to the beach where we could lie on the cold sand, stare at the night sky and look for the phosphorescence in the sea. But the beach was off limits, as was the whole coast, covered in defences of varying types. The best that I could do would be to take him halfway down the cliff to my old hiding place. From there we could experience the still of the night and listen to the waves coming ashore.

  We went past Grandmother’s room and climbed the flight of stairs to the turret room, where we dropped off his bag. This was the best room in the house, although not as large as Grandmother’s. It had sweeping views across the bay as far as Dodman Head in the north to the Manacles in the south. In many ways I was surprised the house hadn’t been requisitioned for the view of the coastline. The hotel nearby had a similar outlook and the Dutch cadets were using their beach house, while the Home Guard had built a base just along the coast. A notebook by the window confirmed my belief that Grandmother kept a record of all the marine activity that she saw.

  Coming to my room, Bobby placed my bag on the bed and then I took his hand and tugged.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked.

  ‘To a special place.’

  ‘Sounds intriguing. Would we be able to have a drink there? It was a long drive.’ He let go of my hand and pulled a bottle of whisky out from behind him.

  I smiled. ‘Yes, we’ll grab two glasses on our way out.’

  Back in the kitchen, I jumped when I found someone there. I’d forgotten about Madame Pomfrey, the French refugee.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here and the family isn’t.’ She waved her hands. ‘You just missed your sister by a few hours. She’s gone up to London to meet her fiancé. She’s just heard he’s being transferred to the Far East.’

  ‘No.’ My hand flew to my heart. That explained the sorrow that had been slipping around the edges of my thoughts. I had been pushing it aside because of my own happiness.

  ‘Are you all right? You’ve gone very pale.’ Bobby’s glance was full of concern.

  ‘Yes, just worried about Amelia.’

  He nodded and Madame Pomfrey took her cocoa and left us. I switched off the kitchen lights and Bobby followed me into the garden. We stood in the darkness letting our eyes adjust and I tried to send love to Amelia. This war was hell, especially on our hearts. The Far East was a lifetime from here. There would be no possibility of seeing Eddie until he returned. If he did return.

  Bobby slipped his arm around my shoulders. ‘It will be tough on your sister.’

  ‘Yes.’ I began walking, not turning on the torch but navigating in the darkness by memory and feel. The landscape had changed and soon we had stumbled into Grandmother’s vegetable patch. How I could have forgotten she had dug up the lawn?

  I switched on the torch briefly to locate the small path to my secret place. Bobby followed along the narrow way close behind me, with an ever-ready hand to steady me if I stumbled.

  I stopped abruptly and Bobby collided with me. He had no idea how close to the cliff edge we were as I teetered on the brink. Then, taking his hand, I turned and found my spot under an outcrop of stone and scrub pine.

  It was a tight fit for the two of us, a small place between the rocks and sheltered from the elements. He was pressed against me. The tingling of the whisky on my taste buds vied with the reaction of my body to his. I knew this was just purely chemistry, chemistry of the physical kind. I wanted him and was more and more impatient. The scorn I had poured on my sister had begun to feel like ignorance.

  ‘I can see Orion’s Belt.’ He pointed then brought his arm back down and placed it around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. Warmth overtook the cool night air.

  ‘Yes, and the Plough,’ I said.

  He turned to me. His face was just inches from mine. ‘Do you mean the Big Dipper?’

  ‘Dipper?’

  ‘Yes, Dipper.’ He kissed me. ‘Dipper as in ladle.’

  ‘Ah.’ I tasted the whisky on my lips from his. ‘Thank you for the translation.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ He kissed me again and I forgot the difference in our common language, even the stars above, and simply felt my need for him.

  Windward, Mawnan Smith, Falmouth, Cornwall

  13 September 2015

  The wind hit the house with force. After the glorious day and evening for the wedding, all hell had broken loose, just like in my thoughts. Turning on the light I could see the window frame shaking. Before long rain would follow, persistent and powerful, so I rose to shut it. I hoped everything outside was battened down. Once the window was shut I paced, trying to empty my mind. Sleep had not visited me as I listened to the wedding music into the small hours. Laughter, so much laughter, and sounds of happiness drifted in between the thump of the bass. I was so pleased for Peta and Fred.

  But as I looked out on the darkness now, my heart bled. That girl in the dress. I knew she had
been real, but standing there alone I felt differently. She had brought everything back, everything that was lost. Did she know? Or was it some cruel twist of fate that had brought her to my door?

  Something crashed against the house. I walked downstairs. In the kitchen I grabbed a torch and pulled on my waxed jacket. The back door almost ripped out of my hands as I opened it. With all my strength I managed to push it shut behind me. Both Jack and Eddie must have been sound asleep not to have been woken by the noise.

  Reaching the terrace with the bay below, I felt the full force of the wind. Small drops of rain hit my face as I shone the torch into the darkness. The clock in the kitchen had read four in the morning, which meant there was a while before dawn would come and reveal the damage, but I couldn’t find anything amiss. Not that I could do anything on my own. Standing out in a howling gale was not sensible, but I felt better in the elements. My hair whipped around my head, echoing my thoughts. Standing where I last saw my sister, I let the tears that had been threatening fall. They mixed with the light rain.

  I walked on until I came to the narrow path towards the cove. Halfway down, as the rain changed from small drops to big fat pelting missiles of water, I turned and pushed my way through the wild growths of brambles to my secret spot. A lump formed in my throat. Bobby. My heart called out to him. I couldn’t go on. I bent myself down into the small hollow and curled into a ball, holding my memories, hoping death would take me. Trying hard, I could feel his arms around me and his lips on mine. A cry sprang from me. I closed my eyes and waited.

  Twenty-Six

  Boscawen House Hotel, Constantine, Cornwall

  18 September 2015

  As Lara passed through the gates of Boscawen, the drive ahead was longer than she’d expected. She’d always been intrigued by the set-up process of restaurants. All the ones she’d worked in had been well established by the time she’d joined – the last had already earned its first Michelin star and she had helped it reach its second. She had learned a lot from the experience, but in return she’d given everything, including her marriage as it turned out. Would she want to do that again? Was it worth it? Her chest tightened in sadness not love.