The Returning Tide Read online

  ‘No.’ I took a sip, waiting for him to move on.

  ‘Just the odd skeleton then.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘So these are letters to your lover?’ He cast me a mischievous smile then picked up the pile.

  ‘No.’ A memory. Letters from my lover. ‘Don’t you have something to do?’

  ‘Right. I know when I’m not wanted,’ he said, and backed away. I reached a hand out to him, but he was already at the door, and moments later he was gone. Jack was someone who needed to feel wanted and I had just pushed him away. I was sorry, but I also knew that venturing into the past was best done alone.

  10 September 1943

  Dearest A,

  I don’t like having you so far away, but even though you are I can feel your excitement. Your clever brain is thrilled by all that you’re learning. I really do think you should go for a place at Oxford (it’s closer than Durham and not Cambridge) when this beastly war is finished … if it ever ends. I know Grandmother will never forgive you for becoming a bluestocking. She despairs of us. She becomes so cross when I wear trousers. But she is proud that you are in the WRNS. I heard her bragging about you to one of the ladies in the village. Doesn’t say anything about me, though. I’m a lowly driver not a soon-to-be telegraphist. However I think she is secretly hoping I’ll fall for some officer and marry quickly.

  Yes, I’m still doing much of the cooking despite working long hours. Madame Pomfrey is a huge ally in the food stakes. I’ve learned so much from her and my French has improved far more than any tutoring would have done. Despite French cooking lessons and driving, life here still revolves around the dances. My world doesn’t feel as glamorous as yours in London. I’m jealous that you are making it to the 400 Club. It doesn’t seem fair. Are you making the most of being there? Somehow I doubt it. You need me to push you. I’d be slipping out every night.

  Things are becoming more interesting though with so many visitors from across the pond arriving. I’d wink if I could. Grandmother won’t stop saying how vulgar they are with their over bright smiles and chewing gum. The big excitement of course is the colour of some of the visitors. People stop and stare. In my travels I see all shapes and sizes of them. Things are changing. I can’t say what but when you have leave and come home you will see.

  The weather has been glorious and I long to swim but I never have time. I can’t tell you anything of what I’m doing but I’m behind the wheel mostly and sometimes entertaining after hours. I can see your frown from here but seriously, who knows if we’ll survive? Bombs fell the other day and didn’t do any damage, thank God. In fact it was a bonus as there were so many stunned fish. Mother and Grandmother along with many others collected them. We practically fed the whole village and I’ve smoked many of them. That night we ate incredibly well on Grandmother’s vegetables and the fish.

  I’ve become very good at cooking fish of all types. There’s no turning one’s nose up at a lowly mackerel or a pollack. No fish is too plain including grey mullet. Grandmother has taken to fishing off the rocks. If you could see her in the gardener’s old straw hat and her dress all rucked up. If I could sketch it I would … of course, I hear you ask … she was wearing her double strand pearls!

  Mother has gone silent for the most part. She seems to live for Father’s infrequent calls and sporadic letters. He is a beast to keep her so much in the dark, but then I suppose he has to. I do miss him too but I think she is really suffering. He was home on leave ages ago and she never knows where he is.

  The house and the Red Cross work keep her very busy, thank God. Otherwise I think she would completely collapse into depression. This threatens her constantly. If you see Father do press him to be better. I know what he’s like wrapped up in his job, which is so important, but she needs him. I did suggest that she should move back to London but she shivered like I had walked on her grave. The night in the Blitz when the house nearby was hit still gives her nightmares. I remember it but frankly compared to what most people have lived through it was nothing.

  I know I can hear you say I am being too tough on her and you are right. She is delicate and artistic. Thank God we are more robust like Father!

  I’m so pleased you saw him when you visited Aunt Margaret. She seems to see more of him than anyone and certainly more of him than her own husband. Grandmother had herself all spun to pieces about Uncle Reg again. She ranted that he had no right to head off to war without an heir or two in the nursery. His volunteering at the start still bothers her.

  How is Aunt Margaret? Did you say she was working for the Red Cross too? Is she still so glamorous? I long for some of her red lipstick.

  I miss you so much and yes, I still hear you in my head, which officially makes me mad and you too. Love you so much.

  Your other half,

  XXXX

  I took a large gulp of the whisky and lifted the letter to my nose. The softest touches of tuberose clung to the yellowed page. Tabu. It was funny how one note of the fragrance remained. It was all so real. Here in this room, Grandmother’s room. Her pearls, minus one strand, hung on my neck. The other one was with my sister.

  Truro Train Station, Cornwall

  6 June 1943

  The train was too crowded; even first-class seats were in short supply. I didn’t have a uniform and wouldn’t have one for the first month so I felt out of place on a train full of them. Everywhere I looked men and women were kitted out and perched on suitcases and standing where they could find space. First class wasn’t much better but I finally found a seat next to the window in the last compartment in which I looked. A major smiled and helped me to store my bag.

  ‘London?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ I smiled my thanks.

  ‘Me too.’ He grinned and I nodded, wondering what Amelia would do. No doubt she would chat to him, but that might lead him on and I wouldn’t know how to handle that. The landscape outside the window was a safer option. It didn’t expect anything from me.

  The war had taken its toll on people, but as the train moved through the countryside I could almost forget that I was heading to London for training. I had no idea where I’d be posted after the six month course, and that was rather exciting, even though part of me was jealous of Amelia staying at home. It was good that she could play her part and still look after Mother. Someone had to and she was far better at it than me. I had less patience, but I loved Cornwall more.

  The train stopped at St Germans Station and I remembered all the times we’d spent at Carvallek, Eddie and Tom Carew’s home. I wondered how they were. Mother wasn’t very good at keeping in touch. Maybe Aunt Margaret would know, as their mother Rebecca was a dear friend of hers.

  The door to the compartment opened and I smiled, thinking of a game of hide and seek in the gardens.

  ‘Well, hello, Delly. It is Delly, isn’t it?’ Eddie walked into the compartment. In surprise I stood to see the object of my thoughts standing in front of me in his uniform. The splash of freckles across his nose was the reminder of the boy I’d been remembering. Eddie embraced me, shocking the major who’d been trying to get my attention.

  ‘Right the first time, Flight Lieutenant.’ I grinned, thinking how handsome he was in his uniform. ‘Were you at home?’

  ‘Yes, I had forty-eight hours’ leave and Mother wanted to see her baby boy.’ He sat opposite.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Fretting. With big brother Tom flying as well she figures she won’t have any children by the end of the war.’ He frowned. ‘Tom has outlived the odds so far and I’ve always been the luckier of us two.’

  ‘How’s Sarah?’

  ‘At school and thankful to be away from Mummy.’

  I laughed. He always made me smile. Grandmother had hopes that either Amelia or I would marry Tom and put the family further back up the social ladder with a title, but Tom was dull whereas Eddie was full of fun.

  ‘How are your mother and Amelia? I won’t ask about the dragon – I know she’ll be
miserable if at all possible.’

  ‘Actually Grandmother has taken to gardening well.’

  He laughed. ‘My mother has too. Who knew the flowerbeds could be so productive?’

  ‘Ah,’ I said, ‘Grandmother wouldn’t sacrifice her borders. Half of the lawn has been dug up instead.’

  ‘Mother has a house full of children from London. I do think she missed her calling in life. She should have been a school mistress.’

  I shook my head. I could not imagine Eddie’s mother with a house full of children. Rebecca was always immaculate and my mother had always felt insecure around her. Father’s response had been to tell her not to be silly, and yet his gaze had never failed to follow Rebecca.

  ‘How’s Amelia?’

  ‘Excellent. Joining the Wrens like me.’

  He looked out the window and his dark hair fell across his forehead. ‘Do send her my best when you next speak to her. Where is she?’

  ‘Off on training right now but she’ll be living at Windward.’

  ‘Lucky her.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not the same now.’ I glanced out of the window. The tide was high as the train crossed the Tamar.

  ‘True. Nothing is.’ He leaned forward. ‘Heading to London?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Shame I’m not.’ He sighed. ‘Will you be there long?’

  ‘Six months.’ I clasped my hands together, feeling the sweat on my palms.

  ‘Brilliant news. I’ll see you, then. Will your aunt have your contact details?’

  ‘Yes.’

  His eyes lit up when he smiled. Although I knew Tom was the better catch, the better looking of the two, Eddie would still be my choice with his dark hair and laughing brown eyes. I had no plans to fall in love, but looking at his smile again maybe I could be tempted.

  Five

  Eventide, Falmouth Heights, Cape Cod, Massachusetts

  15 August 2015

  The sky was changing from solid grey to dark blue. The air was cool. Goosebumps covered Lara’s arms. Standing on the porch she debated going to get a sweater, but was reluctant to leave Leo to venture upstairs. Grandie wasn’t there anymore. Eventide was silent except for the sound of thunder over Teaticket. The storm had stalled above for a long time. Its noise raged while they called everyone including the doctor, the funeral director and, of course, their grandmother. Betty had been quiet in her response, which had surprised both of them. But, Lara thought as she rubbed her arms, becoming an orphan even in your seventieth year had to be a solemn moment.

  ‘Penny for them.’ Leo handed her a glass.

  She swirled the wine then sniffed. ‘We shouldn’t be drinking this without food.’

  ‘True, but it was his favourite and champagne was the only other alternative.’

  Lara wrinkled her nose. ‘He’d want us to celebrate.’

  ‘Yes, but it wouldn’t feel right tonight.’

  The moon appeared above the horizon, half hidden by the storm clouds. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘To Grandie.’ Leo raised his glass.

  ‘The best of us.’ Lara touched hers to his then took a sip, letting the richness play across her tongue. Grandie had said his appreciation of wine had come from his time in France after the war. She looked at the label on the bottle: Calon Ségur, Grandie’s favourite wine. He had told her that the Marquis de Ségur had owned two other vineyards, Lafite and Latour, and it was said that he had made wines in those two but his heart was at the Calon Ségur vineyard so their label had a heart circling the name. Grandie’s Christmas table wasn’t complete without it but Lara hadn’t been able to spend a Christmas on the Cape since she finished culinary school years ago. The restaurant trade didn’t respect holidays or family life. She sighed.

  ‘Runt,’ said Leo.

  She looked up.

  ‘He had a good life.’

  She released her breath. ‘I know.’

  ‘Maybe your non-compete gives you the chance to reassess yours.’

  Lara walked to the edge of the porch and leaned on a pillar. ‘Will another top restaurant hire me after I behaved so badly?’

  ‘They will.’

  ‘How do you know?’ She turned to him. ‘I was so unprofessional.’

  ‘They expect chefs to be divas.’

  ‘That’s because of reality TV shows which are nothing like the real thing.’ She laughed. ‘The restaurant world is tough and fickle. By the time six months is over all I have achieved will be forgotten and I’ll end up as sous chef to someone less qualified than I am.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  She smiled. ‘Sadly I do.’

  ‘Look at it this way. At least I helped with getting the non-compete halved. You could have had a year instead.’ He walked to the opposite pillar and stared at the water.

  ‘Yes, it helps having a top lawyer for a brother.’ She sat on the old rocking chair. So many childhood summer nights had been spent here on the porch listening to adults chatting inside while she and Leo caught fireflies and dodged mosquitos. The world had been simple then and they had known all they had needed to know. Now it was filled with questions like what to do with her life. ‘It was also a bit of luck that Stephan was in a good mood when they approached him.’

  ‘Luck always plays a part.’ He sipped his wine.

  ‘Up until this year I would say I’ve been very lucky.’

  He turned to her. ‘You still are. It might just be a different type of luck.’

  ‘No husband, no job and no plan?’ She shook her head.

  ‘Yes.’

  She leaned forward. ‘To me that equals no luck.’

  ‘It depends on how you look at it, Runt.’

  She laughed. ‘OK, tell me how you would.’

  Leo sat down next to her. ‘Remember being out here watching the fireflies when we were ten, and we told each other what we were going to do?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well, you haven’t done anything on that list.’

  She snorted. ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘But I have.’

  ‘Show-off.’

  ‘No, not a show-off. I just didn’t get side-tracked.’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Not fair.’ Pierre was what he was talking about. Grandie had been right. Marrying at eighteen had been a mistake. It hadn’t worked out as she had planned.

  ‘Fine. Maybe it’s not fair, but right now you have a chance to do something you wanted to.’

  Lara stared at him. For once she couldn’t see where he was going.

  ‘You always wanted to go to England, to trace the family history.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, I did.’ The idea had been discussed many times. They already knew all of the Irish and Yankee side of the family, but had nothing about their great-grandmother. Lara looked into the wine glass then glanced up. Leo’s eyes met hers.

  ‘Adele?’ they both said at the same time.

  A few moments of silence followed, before Leo leant across and filled her glass. ‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘A long-lost lover?’

  ‘Not likely. Grandie went to Mass everyday until he couldn’t drive or walk.’

  ‘True.’ He swirled the wine. ‘We didn’t mishear, did we?’

  ‘No.’ Lara was sure that they hadn’t. If only one of them had heard him then it was a possibility, but not both. ‘Maybe Betty can shed some light on it when she arrives.’

  Leo laughed. ‘In your dreams.’

  ‘We can hope. But I need some information from her if I’m setting out to find her mother. Amelia is the black hole in our family history.’

  17 August 2015

  Her grandmother’s normally tanned skin had a grey tinge in the mid-morning light. Lara handed Betty a cup of tea, watching her as she turned the blue and white striped mug around in her hands. ‘What am I going to do with all of this?’ She looked at Lara then back at Eventide’s sprawling kitchen filled with paraphernalia.

  ‘I wish I could say I’ll have it but …’

&
nbsp; ‘I know, dear.’ She placed her hand across Lara’s pale one. ‘Is there anything in particular you do want?’

  Lara nodded and lifted up the metal box she’d found under Grandie’s bed. Betty frowned. ‘Good lord, what on earth is that?’

  ‘Grandie’s military metals, World War II diaries and a few photos.’ Lara placed it on the kitchen table. Betty opened it and rifled through the contents. Her hand shook when she saw the letters.

  ‘From your mother?’ Lara sat down.

  Betty shrugged. ‘I assume so.’

  ‘What do you know about her?’

  ‘Not much.’ Betty picked up the photos. ‘I was four when she died.’

  ‘Do you remember her?’

  ‘Truthfully, not really.’

  Through the kitchen window, Lara saw her own mother Maeve in the garden talking with Leo, probably about the arrangements for Grandie’s funeral tomorrow. Right then, she tried to imagine life without her mother in it, and couldn’t – but then, she had eventually adjusted to life without her father after the motorcycle accident. She missed him, but her memories of him had faded too. ‘I haven’t found anything of hers other than these letters.’

  ‘Thank you for doing so much in the house.’ Betty smiled.

  ‘I left the heavy stuff to Leo and I went through the paperwork for you.’ Lara sipped her tea, wondering whether to press Betty further. ‘Your mother?’

  Betty sighed. ‘I don’t remember her.’

  ‘Do you have any pictures, her passport, wedding certificate, anything?

  Betty shook her head. ‘Dad was in Europe when it happened. A neighbour found my mother washed up on the beach.’ She picked up a photo of Grandie in uniform. ‘He was different then.’ She traced the outline of her father. ‘Different from the man you knew.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He was rigid.’ She pursed her mouth. ‘Well, he was and he wasn’t. He was a military man who gave it all up to come home because of me.’

  Lara tilted her head. ‘You mean he didn’t live with you?’

  ‘No, he was posted to Europe.’ She shook her head. ‘My mother and I were here in Eventide.’