Cara’s legs have turned to jelly and what the hell is her stomach doing? For crying out loud! Despite the music having stopped, Oliver still holds her. Frantically, she tries to think of something intelligent to say, but the emotions coursing through her have rendered her speechless.
‘So, what do you say to a dip in the sea?’ Tas bellows, approaching out of the darkness with his arm firmly around Morwenna’s waist.
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Morwenna exclaims. ‘The sea will be freezing! Give it a month or two, then maybe…’
‘Baby, never fear, I’d soon warm you up!’ he says and Morwenna laughs nervously. ‘But I will definitely hold you to that.’ Tas turns his attentions to Oliver and Cara. ‘What are you two doing now?’
Good question. ‘What are we doing now?’ Oliver asks quietly.
Cara takes a deep breath. ‘Well, I have a full day tomorrow so I should be getting home.’
Overwhelmed by crushing disappointment, Oliver knows he can’t let her disappear so quickly; not when he’s only just found her.
‘Is home far? Did you come by car?’
Cara laughs. ‘No, I came by foot! I live at the end of the beach.’
Another who enjoys the freedom of this fabulous cove.
And then Oliver recalls the cheeky lad with the Labrador and the adorable young girl. His eyes open wide. ‘Are you Cara Penhaligon?’ he asks incredulously.
‘You’ve got me.’ She smiles up at him.
Oh, how I wish I had!
‘But I have one of your paintings!’ he exclaims.
‘Yes, I know. The Minack.’
‘And you didn’t say anything?’
Cara shakes her head. Seeing a small frown furrow his brow, swiftly she adds, ‘I’ve had other things on my mind tonight.’
Could she possibly mean him? Could he affect her as much as she does him?
Could I do that to her?
Deep in his belly the bubbling excitement builds.
‘I met your family earlier,’ he says. ‘Beth, Sky and your mother, although I’ve met her before. Oh, and not forgetting Barnaby.’ Warmth fills his soul.
Cara smiles. ‘I know that too!’
‘Cara Penhaligon,’ Oliver says in a mock stern voice, ‘you have had me at a disadvantage from the start.’
‘The start of what?’ Cara asks.
Oliver can hardly speak. She’s hit the nail on the head. There’s nothing that can be started. He rakes a hand through his hair. He can’t just let her disappear into the night and walk out of his life, but what other option does he have?
‘Allow me to walk you to your door at least.’
Graciously Cara accepts his offer. Glancing towards the café, she sees Tristan and Jane striding across the sand towards them. Behind them, Ben looks sulkily in her direction.
‘Mo, we’re making tracks. See you tomorrow around one,’ Tristan says pointedly to his sister. The look on his face makes Cara want to laugh.
Morwenna nods.
Glancing at Tas’s hand on his sister’s waist, Tristan frowns. He looks over at Cara and Oliver, and is startled to meet Cara’s steady gaze. She raises an eyebrow.
‘Can’t help it,’ he says, smiling sheepishly.
Now she laughs. As Cara walks towards her friends by the fire, Oliver’s eyes follow her.
‘Blimey, Cara!’ exclaims Martha, breathless with excitement. ‘Dancing with Oliver Foxley, you lucky, lucky…’ Casting around for a suitable word, she eventually settles on, ‘…friend!’
Cara smiles, embarrassed.
‘Yeah, a bit of a smooth mover, isn’t he?’ says Ben moodily, glaring in Oliver’s direction.
‘Oh, Ben, it was only a few dances,’ Cara says.
‘Yeah, but I wanted to have the last dance with you.’
Cara smiles apologetically. Picking up her cardigan from the log, she throws it around her shoulders.
‘Do me a favour, Cara,’ says Tristan, as he and Jane approach. ‘Keep an eye on Mo, will you? You know what she’s like when she fancies someone and I think she’s got the hots for that guy.’ He jerks his head in Tas’s direction.
‘Tristan, Mo can look after herself but, OK, I will keep an eye out.’
‘And keep an eye out for yourself too,’ he says.
‘Now you’re being ridiculous, Trist. They’re just walking us back to The Lookout. Nothing’s going to happen.’
Jane steps forward and hugs Cara. ‘Enjoy, sweet girl, but maintain perspective.’
Cara groans. ‘Not you too! Three dances and you think I’ve lost all reasoning.’
‘I’m just saying…’ Turning her palms up to the sky, Jane pulls a face and raises her eyebrows.
Cara studies Tristan’s girlfriend for a moment. Both women are acutely aware of the good-looking actor standing only a few yards away. He has powerful magnetism.
‘Thanks, guys,’ Cara calls out across the sand to Rick and Tania, still sitting on the log on the far side of the fire. ‘It was a great evening.’
‘Glad you had a good time,’ Rick says, saluting her with his beer bottle. ‘There will be many more, won’t there, Tan?’
‘Yeah,’ Tania mumbles, her eyes glued to Oliver.
Cara turns back, her stomach double-somersaulting when she sees the look in Oliver’s eyes. Perhaps Tristan is right.
‘Goodbyes over?’ asks Tas, steering Morwenna into the darkness, but not before she’s looked over her shoulder and pulled an amazed face at Cara. Oliver and Cara fall into step behind them.
‘It’s a beautiful night,’ says Oliver, wishing he could be as natural with Cara as Tas is with Morwenna. He wants to put his arm around her so badly.
Cara glances up at the sky. ‘Yes, it is, but we get quite a few like this.’
‘No pollution,’ Oliver comments. He has not felt this nervous or awkward since a teenager. So far their conversations have, at best, been stilted but his feelings are overflowing. ‘How long have you lived in the cove?’
She steals a glance. He is so ruggedly good-looking in the moonlight. Unaccustomedly, Cara feels shy.
‘Well, Beth’s just turned nine. We moved in a year before she was born, so ten years… give or take.’
So there is a ‘we’. Of course there is! He knew she couldn’t be on her own.
Despite the cool night air, Oliver’s skin is hot and clammy. Her partner – or husband – obviously couldn’t make the party for some reason and that eager young man must have seized the opportunity to get close in his absence. Well, he can certainly understand that! Drawing deeply on his training as an actor, Oliver focuses his mind to override his emotions. When he speaks his voice sounds remarkably normal.
‘I have a nine-year-old. Jamie.’
‘Is he here with you now?’
‘No. The family is in Surrey. It’s just me here for the summer.’
Just you… for the summer.
‘Perhaps they’ll visit when it gets warmer,’ she suggests.
‘Maybe,’ he says doubtfully.
Cara steals another glance. He sounds so adrift.
Is that it, then? For God’s sake, speak to her.
‘Samantha’s seventeen and at the stage when spending time with her old man is no longer considered cool. Charlie’s fifteen and has a girlfriend so I don’t think he’ll be easily prised away. I only recently found out he’s been dating for over a year,’ he says incredulously. ‘And Sebastian’s eleven and very self-sufficient. He loves football and as long as he can kick a ball around he doesn’t mind where he is.’
But Jamie, thinks Oliver, would like it here, and his heart swells at the thought of his quiet, sensitive, youngest child.
‘They sound a great family,’ Cara says. Oliver nods briefly, his lips twitching into a small smile. ‘I’m sure, in the future, your daughter will want to spend time in your company again.’
She wonders what his wife’s like. Gorgeous, no doubt. Unsuccessfully, Cara tries to recall any media photos of his family.
They walk on in silence, listening to the sound of waves breaking some distance away.
Oliver welcomes the peace and tranquillity, allowing it to calm his racing heart. ‘You are very lucky to live here,’ he says with feeling.
‘Well, I think so,’ Cara says, wondering at his wistfulness. ‘But you must have travelled all over the world and experienced many beautiful places.’
‘I have, that’s true, but there’s something particularly magical about this place. It’s so free.’
So, he feels it too! Who’d have thought that someone with all his worldly experience would be so attuned to the cove’s unique atmosphere? Not only great-looking, but also sensitive and deep…
From some distance ahead they hear Morwenna squeal. Suddenly, emerging out of the darkness, she rushes past laughing. Tas is only a few yards behind.
‘Just bagging myself a fair Cornish maid,’ he says, as he passes by.
Oliver grins, but quickly the grin fades. How he wishes he could do just that. They hear Morwenna shriek and then burst into giggles. Cara chuckles. Tristan would be beside himself if he could hear his sister now.
Oliver glances at Cara. He loves the sound of her laughter, which contradicts the haunting sadness in her eyes. He has never met anyone so desirable. Everything about her is perfect to him: her lovely oval face with its small straight nose; her beautifully shaped pale lips just waiting to be kissed; her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders and glistening in the moonlight. And it’s obvious her clothes disguise a neat figure. Desire stirs.
‘That’s my place,’ Cara says, pointing to a light suspended halfway up the cliff face. ‘There are steps just round the corner.’
Oliver’s senses, already strained to breaking point, tip over into panic mode. Surely it’s not going to end here?
They walk on in silence. A few yards further on, wooden steps, little more than a ladder, rise up the rock face.
‘Stairway to heaven,’ Oliver whispers.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘Not important.’ He shakes his head and smiles at her.
Cara looks beyond him to the sea. In the moonlight, at the water’s edge, Morwenna and Tas are locked in a passionate embrace. Yes, Tristan would be well panicked by now. Perhaps she should try and slow things down. She turns towards Rick’s Beach Hut. The main lights have been switched off but the fairy lights are still on and a healthy glow emanates from the embers of the fire. She breathes in the salt air. Oh, how she loves this cove. It fills her soul and gives her solace.
‘Anyone for coffee?’ she calls out in Morwenna and Tas’s direction, and Oliver raises his eyes to the night sky, silently thanking God.
As Cara climbs, Oliver follows, his breath hitching in his throat as he savours the rise and fall of her neat buttocks.
‘Only twenty-eight steps,’ she calls out over her shoulder.
‘No wonder you’re all so fit in Cornwall.’
Cara laughs, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Well, you must be doing something right in Surrey.’
Oliver stops and looks up at her disappearing figure. He, too, smiles at the compliment but almost immediately the smile freezes on his face. What the hell is he doing? He feels like some love-struck teenager, not knowing what to do or how to react, and his thoughts turn to his eldest son and his girlfriend dilemma. Deanna, Samantha, Charlie, Sebastian and Jamie are his life. What is he thinking?
Cara reaches the top step and glances down. Seeing Oliver’s disquiet envelop him like a grey cloud, she wonders at this handsome man whose public image is so powerful and self-assured, yet the person he has presented her with appears troubled and full of doubt.
‘Are you intending to finish the climb?’ she asks.
Oliver looks up to see Cara watching him. Highlighted from behind by The Lookout’s porch light, she appears shrouded in a golden glow. The look on her face is thoughtful and full of concern, and she simply takes his breath away.
‘Yes,’ he whispers.
As Oliver emerges onto the top step, a black and white cat suddenly appears round the corner of the bungalow. Calling a greeting, it trots towards Cara with its tail bolt upright.
‘Hello, Basil. What have you been up to tonight?’ She bends to stroke it. Rising off its front paws, the cat pushes its head into the palm of her hand. ‘This is another family member,’ she says to Oliver, ‘or have you two already met?’
Oliver shakes his head, bemused. Has he arrived in some enchanted land?
Cara regards him for a moment and then opens the stable door. ‘Welcome to The Lookout,’ she says before disappearing inside.
Oliver inhales deeply, the sea air tickling his senses, and takes a long look at this magical world in which he finds himself. From the light of the moon he can see that The Lookout is a modest bungalow with a couple of gables and obvious extensions. It’s a hotchpotch affair. To one end, a flat-roofed two-storey extension has been added. In fact, the bungalow looks like a child’s Lego building with several afterthoughts. Nevertheless, it has charm and is not the least ostentatious. Behind the building he can sense the dark bulk of the cliffs rising high above its roofline. Turning his attention to the beach, he looks for Tas and Morwenna but they are nowhere to be seen. The moon casts its silvery light upon the ocean, scything a path across the surface, and Oliver listens to the waves gently breaking on the shore. Apart from that, all is silent. As the peace and tranquillity of the cove seduce him, Oliver knows that now he’s brought Cara safely to her door he must walk away.
But she has left the door open…
Entering a porch full of children’s paraphernalia, he smiles. This is so familiar. He walks through to a simply furnished living room, its walls and wood panelling painted white. Even the exposed floorboards are whitewashed. Against the far wall is a wood-burning stove set on a slate hearth, and to one side is a dusky blue sofa with blue and white striped scatter cushions. A matching armchair is positioned against the opposite wall. A dining table and chairs fill a bay window, from which Oliver imagines there must be fantastic views along the cove. The room is simple, clean and totally authentic, without a whiff of an interior designer’s staged idea of beachside living.
This is the real deal.
Glancing through an opening into a galley kitchen, he sees Cara at the sink, filling a kettle.
She looks over her shoulder. ‘How do you take your coffee?’
‘White please. No sugar.’
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she says, turning back to the sink.
Fighting an overwhelming urge to seize the kettle from her and take her in his arms, Oliver moves further into the living room. The art on the walls is obviously Cara’s and displayed on the far wall, dominating the room, is a full-sized electric-blue surfboard. On it – painted Andy Warhol style – are the faces of a stunning, younger Cara and a golden, open-faced man. His heart races at the sight of a teenage Cara and this glimpse into her past, but it’s the young man that demands his attention. The face looking down at him is natural, sunny and full of character; an adult version of Sky.
This has got to be the missing husband/partner. Will he walk in at any moment? Perhaps Cara is just friendly and thinks nothing of inviting strangers back to their place for coffee. Maybe that’s how this golden, free-spirited couple live.
All at once Oliver feels trapped. His life has always seemed relatively free and certainly smoothly run – largely due to his wife’s efficient nature – but recently it has felt neither quite so smooth nor free. He is still standing in the middle of the room staring at the surfboard when Cara emerges from the kitchen.
‘Ah, you’ve spotted the board,’ she says, then cringes. What a ridiculous thing to say! How could he possibly not?
‘It’s stunning,’ he says. But what he really wants to say is that she is stunning… in every way.
‘Thank you. It was one of the pieces I did for my degree.’
‘Where did you study?’ he asks.
‘Oh, I didn’t go far. Falmouth.’
Everything you could ever want is here in this county.
‘It was a great time,’ she says, and Oliver detects a wistfulness.
‘And the young man? With that face he must be Sky’s father.’
‘Yes, Christo,’ she says gazing up at the familiar face. She swallows the lump forming in her throat, refusing to give in to the emotion.
So, your name is Christo. Why aren’t you here with your beautiful wife tonight? Perhaps you’re a fisherman? You look the outdoor type. Maybe you are at sea now and will return in the early hours after you’ve landed your catch? Oliver is stunned at the level of jealousy consuming him and shocked by the anger that swiftly follows. Why the hell are you not here?
If Christo had been present this evening he would never have had the chance to dance with Cara. He would have had to simply appreciate her from afar. If Christo had been here tonight he wouldn’t, now, be battling with all these raging feelings and emotions.
For God’s sake, why did you leave her alone tonight?
A sound at the door interrupts his thoughts and, together, Cara and Oliver turn. Entwined in each other’s arms, Morwenna and Tas navigate their way from the hallway into the living room.
‘Coffee, you two?’ Cara asks, shooting her friend a meaningful look.
Morwenna extracts herself from Tas and joins Cara in the kitchen.
‘Mo, steady on,’ Cara whispers, as she spoons coffee into four mugs.
‘Don’t think I can!’ Morwenna’s face is flushed, her eyes shining.
‘You’ve only just met him.’ Cara frowns as she pours hot water from the kettle onto the granules.
‘I know.’ Morwenna hugs herself, a huge smile splitting her face.
‘Well, try,’ Cara says, picking up two mugs. ‘Bring the others, will you?’ She walks into the living room.
Taken aback by Cara’s clipped tone, Morwenna strokes the cat, now lying in its favourite spot amongst the pot plants. Opening one eye, sleepily it considers her.
‘Hey, Basil, did you know it’s so much easier being a cat?’
From the living room, Tas’s playful voice rings out loud and clear. ‘Morwenna, baby, I’m getting lonely in here!’
‘Got to go!’ she whispers conspiratorially to Basil, as she picks up the two remaining mugs.
Sitting in the armchair, Tas pats his knee as Morwenna enters the room. Giggling nervously and avoiding eye contact with Cara, she sets the mugs on the floor and sits on his lap. Immediately, he wraps his arms around her and gently nuzzles the back of her neck.
Sitting on the sofa at the furthest end from Oliver, Cara is acutely aware that their body language is in sharp contrast. She attempts to relax. After all, this is her place, but it seems so surreal having a famous actor in her home. She blows on her coffee and takes a sip.
‘I love your paintings, Cara,’ Oliver says.
Taken by surprise, she swallows a large mouthful and chokes, the hot liquid burning her throat. Gasping for air, she places her mug on the floor.
Swiftly Oliver closes the gap. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he says, gently patting her back, ‘but I do love them.’
Cara turns to look at him, half-choking. ‘Thanks,’ she gasps. ‘I think I’m OK now.’
Reluctantly Oliver removes his hand. He feels so alive. Something about this woman fires him up. He doesn’t know what it is – apart from her obvious assets. Something else is at play here.
‘Have you always painted?’ he asks.
‘Forever. My parents gave me some watercolours one Christmas, I think I was about four at the time. Apparently, I created numerous abstracts, which obviously meant something to me but I’m not sure anyone else understood!’ Cara laughs.
‘Well, no such trouble now. Each of these paintings is beautiful.’
Cara stares at him in astonishment. What a compliment!
‘Well, thank you, Oliver Foxley.’
Mesmerised by the emerald green and golden lights dancing in her dark brown eyes, Oliver holds Cara’s gaze for a long heartbeat. A darker line defines each iris. There are pools of hidden depths in those eyes and Oliver fears that if he holds her gaze a second longer he will dive straight in and never want to resurface.
‘You must have heard that before?’ he says, averting his gaze.
‘Well, yes. People have shown their appreciation over the years, but…’ Flustered, she lets the sentence peter out. For some reason it’s important he value her work, but if she voiced that how odd would it sound? She turns away.
God, how he wants to take her in his arms! Oliver shifts on the sofa, wondering when Christo will appear.
‘Where’s Barnaby?’ he asks, spying a dog basket in the corner of the room.
‘With my parents, along with the children. They’re staying the night as an Easter treat. I’m picking them up tomorrow.’ She glances at her watch. ‘Or rather today.’
Easter! Oliver makes a mental note to phone Deanna.
‘Do they live far?’
‘No. On the edge of a village with outstanding views over Mounts Bay.’
‘Ah yes, St Michael’s Mount. We visited last autumn. A fascinating place.’
‘Do you know Cornwall well?’ Cara asks.
‘Not well. Perhaps you would suggest some places I should see while I’m here. I’d like to get to know the county better.’
Cara laughs. ‘Where to begin?’
Oh, how he loves her laugh. It’s so spirited and carefree, belying the raw pain that fills her eyes. Why are her eyes so sad? Is it just her look? If so, her children haven’t inherited it.
Oliver glances at his watch. It’s past two. Aware that Cara has a full day ahead of her, reluctantly he decides it’s time to leave. He glances at his friend. Morwenna’s head rests on Tas’s shoulder, her eyes closed. If only he could hold Cara like that.
‘Tas, we should make tracks,’ he says.
Tas nods and whispers in Morwenna’s ear.
‘So soon?’ she says, opening her eyes.
‘Hey, baby, don’t you fret. We’ll see each other again. In any case, you’ve promised me a midnight swim. I’m going to hold you to that!’
Morwenna smiles and gets to her feet.
Oliver, too, rises and collects the empty mugs. Out of practice at seeing a man clearing up in her home, Cara watches as he moves round the room. His easy, athletic movements speak to something deep within and, involuntarily, a shiver runs through her body.
‘I can give you a lift back to the car park,’ Morwenna says to Tas, ‘as long as you don’t mind slumming it.’
‘Baby, I’d slum it anywhere with you.’
Cara smiles to herself. Tas is so full on.
‘You haven’t seen the inside of Doris yet,’ warns Morwenna.
‘Doris?’
‘Yes. Doris is a Daewoo.’
‘Ah well, that explains it,’ Tas teases, his eyes glinting mischievously.
As Oliver re-enters the living room he glances at Cara. He doesn’t want to leave not knowing when, or if, he will see her again, but what can he do?
‘Mo, just chill a bit,’ whispers Cara, hugging her friend.
‘What’s a girl to do?’ Morwenna says, and winks.
Cara shrugs. She’s done all she can. Morwenna is her own woman.
As Tas steps forward, wrapping Cara in an enormous hug, he almost unbalances her. Cara laughs.
‘Thank you for the coffee, oh, fairest of maidens. I hope we see you at one of our performances in the not too distant future.’ He turns his attention to Oliver. ‘Mr Fox, Doris awaits.’
Oliver drags his eyes away from Cara. ‘Who?’
Tas grins at his friend. ‘Doris is a Daewoo!’
‘What?’ Oliver says, confused.
‘Step this way, my man, and all will be revealed,’ says Tas, following Morwenna from the room.
Oliver deliberates. Would it be OK to hug Cara? Of course it would. It’s a courteous thing to do.
But before he gets the chance, Cara says, ‘I’ll see you off at the door.’ She smiles at him.
Parked in front of the bungalow next to Cara’s vehicle is Morwenna’s car. Through the porch windows they watch as Morwenna opens the doors for Tas to inspect its interior.
‘That,’ says Cara, ‘is Doris.’
Oliver laughs. ‘Ah, now all is clear!’
As a silence falls between them Cara thinks, you’re nothing like I thought you would be.
‘Thank you for your charming company tonight, Cara,’ Oliver says softly.
She glances up at him and catches her breath. There’s that look again. She could so easily get lost in that look if she weren’t careful.
‘You’re welcome. Yours wasn’t so bad either!’ she replies flippantly, and then cringes. She didn’t mean to say it like that. She doesn’t feel flippant at all.
Cara bites her lip, her head in a spin. Truthfully, she isn’t sure what his company has been like. At best, their conversations have been stilted; stop-start ever since she tried to make him have that lobster. But, putting aside her awareness of his public image, something about Oliver speaks to her on a deeper level. Maybe that’s why she’s being so impertinent. Some form of safety mechanism.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,’ she says, looking away.
‘You’re not being rude, Cara.’ Placing his fingertips lightly under her chin, Oliver brings her exquisite face back to his. Looking deep into her eyes, he says, ‘I think you are enchanting.’
Oh, how he’d love to kiss those pale lips! But Oliver simply smiles and turns away.
As the car sets off down the track, he wills himself not to look back at Cara standing at the open stable door, but he is powerless to resist. His heart leaps when he sees that she, too, appears unable to let him simply drive away and the eyes that observe him, though still full of sorrow, now ask a question.