Cornwall basks in the hottest day of the year with temperatures hitting 32°C and the Met Office issues a ‘level three’ heatwave warning. There’s not a cloud in the sky and the winds are light, offering little relief from the incessant heat. It must be more refreshing down on the sand close to the sea, but up here on the cliffs it’s scorching. Even the gulls seem lethargic, sitting silently on the granite outcrops and expending little energy, simply extending their wings to catch any hint of a breeze.
Sylvie angrily wipes perspiration from her forehead, her lank hair sticking to her skin. Through her binoculars, she watches the beach way below. They’re playing happy families and she can’t bear his obvious happiness. Why are they still together? The package was delivered two weeks ago. His wife should have reacted by now! Sylvie’s mind is in torment, finding no answers and giving no rest. They look the ideal family. It’s like watching a sickeningly perfect commercial for the latest holiday resort: great-looking parents and healthy, cheerful kids playing in the surf with their dog. Any advertiser would kill for this dream team. It’s nauseating.
‘Bastard! I hate you.’ As she utters the words she knows it’s not true.
Letting the binoculars drop on their strap around her neck, she stands with feet apart and raises her long cotton skirt above her knees. Her bare arms blister under the heat of an unforgiving sun. It’s as if she’s melting. She should have brought sunscreen. A sudden burst of laughter makes her turn. Two teenage boys walk the cliff path and she scowls at them, raising her skirt even higher and exposing her knickers.
‘Seen enough?’
The lads stare at the strange woman standing close to the cliff edge.
‘Be careful,’ one calls out. ‘There have been rock falls in this area.’
‘What the fuck’s it got to do with you?’ Sylvie shouts. ‘Piss off!’
The boys continue walking towards the cove, but before disappearing round the corner they glance back. Sylvie still watches. Turning her back to them, she hitches up her skirt around her waist and bends over, wiggling her bottom at them.
Nasty little boys!
Cackling, she straightens up and shakes out her long, floaty skirt; a wild, gypsy girl once more. Now, where is Oliver? Raising her binoculars, she scans the beach. Oh, how sickeningly cutesy. He’s in the sea with the blond boy, throwing a Frisbee for the dog. Where’s the golden woman gone? Sylvie scrambles along the cliff edge. Ah, there she is.
Observing mother and daughter investigating one of the many rock pools along this stretch of beach, Sylvie watches Cara pick something up and place it in the palm of Bethany’s hand. It looks like a starfish. She watches the young girl study it closely before running across the sand to show it to Oliver.
Filled with hatred and jealousy, Sylvie knows she’s witnessing a happy and carefree day on the beach; an experience she has never had. Something dark and twisted stirs within her cold heart. Lurking, creeping and slithering, slowly it infects her like a virus that can’t be cured. Standing, a forlorn figure on the cliff top, she listens to the clamouring voices telling her to smash and rip apart this little family. She has lived her whole adult life with the possibility of Oliver. Without him, she has nothing. Feeling as if she is slowly dying, Sylvie casts expletives at the figures on the beach below, her misery growing more unbearable. As evil wins, becoming part of her, filling and controlling her, Sylvie loses her mind. Even God can’t save her now.
Turning her face to the sun suspended high in the cloudless sky, she cannot feel its warmth. She looks out over the azure sea, sparkling and dazzling, and watches a container ship silently traversing the far horizon. It’s so peaceful and serene, but she will smash it. She will swoop over the figures on the sand below and peck out the eyes of that golden woman and her children in front of him. She will destroy Oliver.
Sylvie takes a few paces back and then runs towards the edge of the cliff. As heather and granite give way to air, she spreads her arms wide. But Sylvie doesn’t fly. Instead, she plummets towards the pristine sands eagerly rushing up to greet her.
*
Uncharacteristically, Barnaby growls and Cara turns towards the dog. His hackles are raised and she follows his intense stare.
‘Oh my God!’ Her hands fly up to her mouth.
At the sound of her cry, Oliver turns sharply. Hearing a thud, he looks towards the cliffs. A pile of rags lies at their base, but from the look of horror on Cara’s face he already suspects what it is. Oliver runs from the surf across the sand with the Labrador in hot pursuit.
‘Barnaby, here!’ Cara calls urgently. The dog halts and immediately trots back to his mistress. ‘Beth, you and Sky stay here. Don’t move!’ she says, more harshly than intended. ‘And keep hold of Barnaby.’
Cara runs across the beach. As she approaches the stricken figure she can see it’s a woman. Oliver kneels beside her, holding her hand. He looks up with concern and guilt in his eyes.
‘It’s Sylvie,’ he says in a shocked whisper.
Cara looks down at the moaning woman on the sand. Her eyes have rolled back into their sockets and her right leg sticks out at an unnatural angle, the foot twisted beneath; bone protruding.
‘I’ll get help,’ she says. Calling to her children, Cara sets off at a run towards the main cove with Barnaby keeping pace.
Oliver brushes Sylvie’s hair out of her face with the lightest touch. ‘Sylvie, what have you done?’ His tone is compassionate and full of concern. Sylvie groans, eyelids flickering. ‘Just lie still. Help will be here soon.’
Sylvie’s eyes fly open and she grimaces. What’s she doing lying here? She should be soaring. She has no feeling below her pelvis but the pain in her back is acute. And then Oliver swims into focus. What’s he doing? He’s holding her hand and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Is she dreaming? The pain is unbearable. She gasps and lets out a moan, the sound of a wounded animal.
Oliver pales. ‘Don’t try to move.’
‘I’m cold,’ she croaks, shivering violently as shock sets in.
Wearing only swimming trunks, Oliver has nothing to cover her with. He lies down beside her and wraps her in his arms, giving his warmth.
‘Oliver…’
‘Shhh, Sylvie. Just try to keep still.’
The sand is cold in the shadow of the cliff but he will not leave. As the minutes pass by, Sylvie slips into unconsciousness.
‘Sylvie, come back,’ Oliver calls.
Presently, Cara arrives with a blanket. ‘The air ambulance is on its way.’
‘Where are Beth and Sky?’ Oliver asks, carefully extracting himself from Sylvie and rising to his knees.
‘Janine’s looking after them,’ Cara says, gently placing the blanket over the stricken woman. Sylvie moans deliriously.
A sudden shout and Oliver turns to see a group of people approaching from around the rocky outcrop. Rick is amongst them. The jungle drums are working well.
‘Is there anything we can do?’ Rick calls out.
‘Just make sure everyone keeps back so the air ambulance can land safely,’ Oliver says.
Rick nods and turns to the growing crowd alerted to an incident in the next cove.
‘Oliver?’ Sylvie calls out weakly.
‘Sylvie, I’m here,’ he says, turning back to her.
Her eyes snap open, full of pain. She stares at him in bewilderment. Then her eyes focus on Cara, shrouded in a beautiful, golden light. Is she an angel?
Cara takes Sylvie’s hand in hers and Oliver looks on in awe, as a healing light transfers itself to the broken woman lying on the sand.
As warmth travels up Sylvie’s arm into her chest and down her spine, the agony in her eyes decreases. ‘Oliver,’ she croaks, ‘I love you.’
‘I know and it’s OK.’
Hearing the distant sound of rotating blades, Oliver watches as the red helicopter swoops in from Porthleven Beach on its approach to the hidden cove. As it manoeuvres into position to land, the noise intensifies and the downdraft forces the crowd to stand back.
‘Love me, Oliver, please,’ Sylvie begs.
Cara glances at Oliver, her heart aching with the tragedy of it all.
Tenderly, Oliver takes Sylvie’s free hand in his. ‘I love you,’ he says, the lump in his throat distorting his voice.
Sylvie smiles. Suddenly, her face is transformed.
As the paramedics approach across the sand, Sylvie’s eyes cloud over and a trickle of blood escapes from the corner of her mouth, dripping onto the sand and staining it red. Her limp, battered body is lifeless – an empty husk at the base of the cliff – but at last her spirit is free.
*
‘What a sorry state of affairs,’ says Rick to no one in particular. ‘Do you two want a drink?’
‘No, thanks, Rick.’ Cara says. ‘I’d better get back to the kids.’
Rick nods. ‘Probably just as well if you both disappear. Looks like the press have arrived.’
Oliver glances sharply in the direction of the café. A car emblazoned with the local radio signage pulls into the car park. ‘Thanks for your help,’ he says, pale with shock.
Did Sylvie slip, or did she jump? He knows it’s no coincidence her being here. She was stalking him again. When the paramedics asked if they knew the woman he considered keeping quiet, but his hard-working conscience demanded he be honest. He explained she was an acquaintance. When they enquired if she had any family he told them of the aunt who could be contacted via the monks on Holy Isle. They didn’t ask anything further, just took his and Cara’s contact details so they could be called upon to give evidence at the inquest.
Cara’s hand is warm and soft and gives him some comfort. As Rick bids them farewell, Oliver follows her up the cliff steps. As they emerge onto the grass in front of The Lookout, Cara stumbles. With lightning-quick reflexes, Oliver catches her.
‘Cara?’ His voice is full of concern.
She clings to him and buries her head against his chest. Closing her eyes, Cara swallows hard but she cannot stem the tears. She cries for Sylvie and her unrequited love; for Christo at leaving them way too soon; and for the uncertainty of her relationship with Oliver.
‘My beautiful girl,’ Oliver says softly. ‘Let it all out.’ He rocks her gently and, lovingly, strokes her long, blonde hair.
As they stand together in the muggy evening air, Oliver looks out over the cove. Several people are still on the beach, making the most of the stunning summer’s day, and he can see Rick and Tania standing on the decking. Marvelling at the tranquil scene before him, he wonders how many other tragedies this deceptively peaceful cove has witnessed over the centuries.
Eventually, Cara lifts her head and peers up at him. Her face is blotched and red.
‘Let’s get you inside,’ Oliver says quietly.
With his arm around her waist, he walks her towards the porch but she stumbles again. As soon as the door is open, he sweeps her into his arms and carries her to her bedroom. Carefully, he lays her on her bed. Immediately, she curls up into a ball.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Oliver asks, worry deeply etched upon his face.
She shakes her head. She just wants to drift away and block out the world.
‘Let’s get you into bed, then.’
He persuades her to sit up and, like a child, Cara allows him to undress her; all the fight in her extinguished. Oliver lies down beside her. Tenderly, he cradles her in his arms. The minutes tick by and he watches the last golden rays of sun streaming through the wooden slatted blinds turn to the greyness of dusk.
‘I’m just going to get Beth and Sky,’ he whispers in her ear.
Unsure whether she’s heard him, he raises his head. She’s asleep; her tears streaked dry upon her face. Careful not to disturb her, Oliver gets out of bed. He looks down at this beautiful woman who has so unexpectedly come into his life and his heart overflows with love and compassion. He pulls the sheet gently over her body. Tas’s summer tour is rapidly coming to an end but he cannot imagine life without her. Exiting her bedroom, he walks through the silent bungalow and switches on the porch light before heading along the track to Janine’s house, deep in thought.
‘Oliver, come in.’ Janine opens her front door and steps aside. The hallway is crammed full of jackets, boots, buckets and spades. ‘Is Cara OK? It must have been a huge shock for her, what with the air ambulance being called out,’ she whispers.
‘It’s taken its toll,’ he says, ‘but she’s sleeping now.’
‘You know, Beth and Sky can stay here. The twins love having them for a sleepover.’
‘Are you sure, Janine?’
‘Of course!’ She leads the way to the lounge. ‘Hey, kids, what do you say to a sleepover?’
The children look up from colouring in a large paper tablecloth spread out over the floor. In unison, the twins shout, ‘Yes!’
Perhaps it would be best for Beth and Sky to stay the night with Janine’s family. It may help block out the memories of the day.
‘Bobkin will be hungry,’ says Bethany. ‘Will you feed him for me, please?’
‘Of course, Beth.’ Oliver smiles at the young girl.
‘And don’t forget Barnaby and Basil,’ calls Sky. ‘They will be hungry too.’
‘Thanks, Janine. I am indebted to you,’ Oliver says, relieved at the normality of it all.
‘Not at all,’ she responds, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘Beth and Sky are no trouble and Molls and Mills love having them to stay. Anyway, I’d do anything for Cara, as I know you would too.’
It’s true. He’d give his life.
Calling to Barnaby, Oliver walks slowly back to The Lookout. The tide is on the turn and in the deepening dusk a couple walk hand in hand along the shoreline.
Of all the places I’ve travelled in the world, none is more beautiful than this.
He stops and looks back at Rick’s Beach Hut. Yes, he can understand why the Australian is happy to settle here. As the cove weaves its magic there’s no escaping the unquestionable truth staring him in the face: He wants to be here with Cara and her children. Oliver sighs and walks on. Apart from the porch light, The Lookout is in darkness. He checks on Cara and finds her sleeping soundly: The sleep of a thousand sleeps. Having fed all the animals, finally he pours himself a large glass of wine and, taking a deep slug, phones his wife. When she answers, her voice is that of a stranger’s.
‘Hi, Dee. How’s everything?’
‘Good. The folks are well and the boys are having a great time. How’s it with you?’
Where does he start?
‘Fine. Full houses most nights. Can’t believe it’s the home stretch. We’ll be at the Minack soon.’ He doesn’t want to think about it. ‘When are you returning to Surrey?’
‘Oh, we’ll stay in Norfolk until the boys go back to school. It’s so much nicer here.’
Oliver flinches. Did she really have to say that? She’s made it perfectly clear she doesn’t like the changes at Hunter’s Moon. The security measures are probably unnecessary now but as they’re in place they may as well stay, though he will concede on the guard and his dog.
‘Deanna, a woman died today.’
‘Oh?’
‘She died in front of me.’
Silence.
‘Dee, did you hear what I said?’
‘Yes. That’s tough. Did you know her?’
How can I even start to explain?
‘Not really.’
‘Well, then. It’s sad for her family but you’ll recover from the shock, Ollie. Life goes on.’
For some…
It has been absent for weeks, but now Oliver feels the ‘grey mist’ descending and he soon finishes the call. He sits listening to the silence, the only sound Barnaby’s contented snores from the corner of the room. Eventually, he switches off the light and walks to Cara’s bedroom. The wooden blinds are folded back and she stands naked at the open French doors, bathed in moonlight.
‘It’s so hot,’ she says, turning as he enters. ‘I wanted to sleep with the doors open and listen to the ocean.’
He smiles. ‘Are you feeling better?’
She nods. ‘Where are the children?’
‘Sleepover at Janine’s. I checked earlier. I don’t think they understand what happened today.’
‘Are you OK, Oliver?’
He grimaces. ‘It’s a shock and I know it’s my fault. Sylvie wouldn’t have been on the cliffs if I hadn’t been here.’
‘You can’t blame yourself for Sylvie’s actions. If it wasn’t today it would have been some other time,’ Cara says, walking towards him. She takes his hands. ‘Stay with me tonight?’ she whispers.
He nods.
Without speaking, she helps him out of his clothes and leads him to her bed. Lying down beside him, Cara turns to face Oliver. The actor’s rugged good looks are further accentuated by the moon’s silvery light but she hardly notices, seeing only his essence; not the shell. She kisses him tenderly and, soon, they are far away from the shocks of the day. Later, lying together in each other’s arms, two halves of a whole, they listen to the waves breaking gently on the shore. Through the open French doors they gaze at the moon casting its light in the ink-black sky, and a meteor shower gifts them a display of streaking lights.
‘Perfect,’ Oliver murmurs.
Cara smiles. It is.
‘You know, Cara,’ Oliver whispers, ‘I’ve been homesick for so long, for a place I was not sure even existed. A place where my heart would be full and my soul understood.’ Gently he kisses her beneath her ear. ‘Thank you for being that place.’ Trailing a hand over the contours of her body, Oliver breathes in her scent and knows he is home. ‘I love you, Cara Justine Penhaligon,’ he says with certainty.
Fighting back tears, Cara wonders if this declaration of love has been brought on due to the shared tragedy they have lived through today. But as she turns and looks deep into his eyes she knows it is true.
‘And I love you, Oliver Tobias Foxley,’ she says softly. ‘But you know what else?’
He shakes his head.
And then Cara utters the three little words he’s been yearning to hear all his life.
‘I… get… you.’