‘I’m just hanging up the washing,’ Cara calls to her children. It’s a fine, blustery day; perfect for drying.
Grappling with the washing basket, she opens the porch door and steps out into the world. Immediately the wind whips at her long hair. Turning to get it out of her face, she glances along the track and does a double-take. Walking towards her, with an uncertain smile on his face, is Oliver.
‘Hello,’ he says.
‘Hi,’ she responds. Having not seen him since the beach party, she has successfully accepted their previous meeting as simply an amazing and ridiculously surreal experience. ‘What blows you this way?’ she asks, breaking a silence that threatens to develop into awkwardness.
You! he wants to shout.
‘I had a few hours to kill and wondered how you were.’
Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach preparing for flight, Cara wonders why.
‘Looks like you’ve been busy.’ Oliver nods to the overflowing basket. ‘Here, let me help.’ He takes a step towards her.
Hastily Cara steps back. ‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of it! Go in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll only be a few minutes.’ The last thing she needs is this world-famous actor pegging out her smalls! ‘The children are inside,’ she adds.
He watches as Cara disappears around the side of the bungalow. She’s as lovely as he remembers, if not more so. Since their first meeting, it’s been hard to get her out of his mind. Oliver steps over the threshold into Cara’s world.
As he enters the living room, Bethany looks up from her Kindle and smiles.
‘Hey, Oliver! Have you come for lunch?’ asks Sky excitedly.
Oliver laughs. ‘If I’m asked, I guess.’
‘Oh, stay for lunch,’ Bethany pleads.
‘Watch this,’ commands Sky. ‘I’ve taught Barnaby a new trick.’ Grabbing Oliver’s hand, he pulls him onto the sofa next to his sister.
Glancing down at the young girl shyly observing him, Oliver asks, ‘What are you reading?’
‘Harry Potter, the Order of the Phoenix. Have you read it?’
‘I have,’ he says.
‘You have?’ she exclaims, her eyes opening wide.
‘Yes, I read it with my son, Jamie.’
Her face breaks into a smile.
‘Look, Oliver!’ shouts Sky.
Alert to the boy’s every action, the Labrador sits attentively.
‘Roll over,’ Sky commands, making a circular motion with his hand. The dog obediently lies down, rolls over and then sits, eagerly awaiting the next instruction. Sky laughs and pats the Labrador’s head. ‘Good boy, Barnaby!’
‘Well done,’ says Oliver, aware that Bethany has closed the gap between them.
‘How old is your son,’ she asks.
‘Jamie? He’s nine.’
‘The same age as me,’ says Bethany.
Oliver smiles. Jamie would like her, if they ever met. But how could that ever occur?
‘I have two other sons and a daughter as well. Charlie, Sebastian and Samantha.’ His heart softens as he thinks of his children, all so different but each contributing to the whole.
‘BLP is nine. BLP is nine,’ chants Sky, circling the dog.
‘Shut up,’ Bethany cries, her body suddenly rigid; her face frozen.
Oliver frowns. What’s happening here?
‘BLP is nine, Beautiful Little Princess is nine!’
Bethany jumps to her feet. ‘SHUT UP SKY!’
‘Hey, what’s going on?’ Cara stands in the doorway, the empty washing basket in her hand. She glances from Bethany to Sky and then at Oliver. What must he think?
‘Mum, make him stop, please,’ Bethany pleads.
Sky continues chanting, but more quietly now.
‘Sky, stop calling Beth by that name and stop circling Barnaby. Just look how excited you’ve made him.’ She glances at Oliver again. ‘Sorry.’
Oliver shakes his head and gives a bewildered smile.
On the verge of tears, Bethany says to her brother, ‘You horrible, stupid, fat pig.’
‘Oh, Beth! That’s not helping, is it?’ Walking to her daughter, Cara hugs her, while making an angry face at her son. ‘I’m sorry you had to witness this,’ she says to Oliver.
‘I don’t actually know what I’ve just witnessed,’ Oliver says.
‘BLP are Beth’s initials,’ pipes up Sky, grinning. ‘Beautiful Little Princess.’
‘Mum!’ wails Bethany.
‘Let’s all take a deep breath,’ suggests Cara, glancing up at the surfboard on the living-room wall.
‘But that’s wonderful, Beth, and perfect for you,’ Oliver says. ‘What is your middle name?’
The young girl blinks at him, the threatened tears stemmed.
‘Lowena,’ Sky sings out his sister’s name.
‘What a lovely name,’ Oliver says, and Cara watches as her daughter’s face is transformed with a small smile.
‘Lowena is old Cornish for joy or happiness,’ Bethany proudly informs him.
‘And what’s your middle name, Sky?’ Oliver turns his attention to the boy.
‘Fat. Stupid Fat Pig,’ Bethany says angrily and Cara groans.
Ignoring his sister, Sky says, ‘Felix.’
‘Latin for happy or lucky,’ adds Cara, as if to herself.
‘And what about you, Cara? Do you have a middle name?’ Oliver asks.
‘Yes, but I don’t think it has any particular meaning. Justine. My mother tells me she gave me that name because in her youth she used to hang out with the Moody Blues and had a thing for Justin Hayward!’ She laughs.
Oliver smiles. ‘Well, my initials are OTF, and they don’t stand for Old Tragic Fool. See if you can guess what my middle name is.’
There’s something about the way he says it that gives Cara pause. Is he being funny? She doesn’t think so. But why would he say that? Why would he see himself in that light?
‘Tree,’ offers Sky.
‘Er, no…’
‘Timothy,’ suggests Bethany quietly.
Oliver shakes his head.
‘Trumpet.’ Sky warms to the challenge.
‘Wrong again.’
‘Thomas?’ asks Bethany.
‘Tractor!’ Sky giggles.
Cara laughs. How absurd!
She watches in fascination as Oliver successfully turns the potentially explosive situation into a fun game. Both her children appear entranced.
Aware of her gaze, Oliver looks up and smiles. He had no idea what he was doing earlier, coming to find her like that, but he was powerless to keep away. He was racked with indecision but it has, nevertheless, turned out well. This is just what he needed.
‘Do you know, Cara?’ he asks.
She tries to recall if she’s ever seen his full name in print. She shakes her head.
‘Tobias,’ he says, ‘and it, too, has a meaning. In Hebrew, Tobias means God is good.’
‘Tobias,’ says Bethany, ‘I like that. Tobias… Toby.’ She plays with the name, a serious look on her face.
‘Yes, Toby is the shortened version,’ Oliver says.
Cara smiles. She likes the name too. Glancing up at the clock on the kitchen wall, she asks, ‘Would you like to stay for lunch, Oliver?’
‘Please stay,’ says Bethany.
Sky grins conspiratorially at the actor.
*
The afternoon slips towards evening and Oliver reluctantly drags himself away. He’s performing tonight, but he’d much rather spend the evening with this little family.
As Cara opens the stable door and steps outside, a strong breeze catches her hair. She holds it out of her face. A lone windsurfer skims across the water, jumping the waves and moving briskly from one side of the cove to the other.
Oliver stands beside Cara as they watch in silence. He longs to move closer. It’s not just that she’s so lovely. He feels a connection so strong and is drawn to her in a way he has never known before.
‘So, now you’ve experienced an afternoon at home with the Penhaligons,’ Cara says, groaning inwardly. How pompous that must sound!
An afternoon? I’d like it to be a lifetime!
The thought takes Oliver by surprise and he glances down at her. ‘Much like an afternoon with the Foxleys.’
She laughs. ‘You must miss your children, being here without them.’
Oliver nods slowly. His children, yes. Instantly he feels guilt at the omission of his wife.
‘What was all that about earlier with Beth and Sky?’
Looking down at her feet, Cara kicks a small stone lying on the track. When she meets his gaze, sadness pools deeply in her eyes. ‘Christo used to call Beth his “Beautiful Little Princess”.’
‘I heard what happened,’ Oliver says softly. ‘I’m so very sorry, Cara.’ He wants to hold her so badly and soothe away her pain.
Biting her lip, she blinks rapidly.
‘Will you do something for me?’ he asks. It’s unimaginable to think he may not see her again. ‘Will you show me your Cornwall, if you have the time?’
Please have time!
Oh, so that’s the reason he’s here! thinks Cara.
‘Well, I have some commissions to finish and I work several days at the gallery.’ Cara considers Oliver for a long moment. ‘But I’m sure I could make the time.’ She smiles. ‘Yes, I’d like to show you my Cornwall.’
Oliver lets out a long, silent breath.
‘Thank you,’ he says, gently squeezing her arm. ‘And now I really must be going. Tas will skin me alive if I’m late.’
‘Oh yes, you’re at Nancegollan village hall tonight, aren’t you? Mum and Sheila are going.’
Nancegollan! How he loves these Cornish names.
‘Is that so? I’ll be sure to make a fuss of them!’ Oliver’s eyes twinkle and a mischievous smile spreads across his face.
‘Please don’t. They may never recover,’ Cara says, her smile matching his.
Oliver laughs, carefree for the first time in years. As he gazes into Cara’s dark brown eyes a sense of well-being settles deep within his soul.
‘Thank you, Cara, for sharing your lovely family with me this afternoon.’
He walks away from her but after a few yards turns back. She still stands at the door watching him and his heartbeat quickens. Something about her takes him to a different place entirely; a place he intuitively knows exists but has never visited.
Cara raises her hand and gives a small wave. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. But it’s her eyes that hold him spellbound. Her sadness is lifting and a glimpse of something else is taking its place.