As Cara turns the key in the lock and opens the door to The Art Shack, she sends a number of envelopes sliding across the mat. Bending to pick them up, she scans them briefly.
‘Here we are, Toby,’ says Carol, pushing the pram across the courtyard. ‘A day at the gallery.’
Cara blocks the doorway, and Carol notices a small frown playing on her daughter’s face. ‘Is everything OK?’
Cara glances at her mother. ‘What? Oh, yes.’ She steps aside to allow Carol and the pushchair to enter.
‘I’ll just get Toby settled in his playpen and then put the kettle on,’ Carol says.
‘Good idea,’ says Cara distractedly. Closing the door, she walks to the sales counter.
Promising spring days and blue skies have brought a sudden swell of people to the little fishing port of Porthleven, as shops and galleries dust off their cobwebs and eagerly open their doors to early visitors of the season. Since returning from London, in preparation, Cara has been busily hanging canvases and restocking shelves with interesting pieces. Her studio at The Lookout was too small to accommodate the large canvas for the London exhibition and so a space has been cleared at the rear of the newly painted gallery to accommodate it. She hopes, as her father has prophesied, it will bring an added interest to customers seeing the artist painting in situ.
Placing the remainder of the post on the counter, Cara considers the envelope in her hand; the red Virgin Atlantic logo plain for all to see. Sliding her finger under the flap of the envelope, she hesitantly extracts its contents. ‘Oh! So soon?’
‘What is it?’ Carol asks, as she eases Toby’s arm out of the sleeve of his jacket.
‘A ticket to New York.’ Cara frowns. He must have organised it while they were in London.
‘Return, I hope,’ mutters her mother under her breath.
‘Why didn’t he ask before booking it?’ Cara sighs.
‘Here you go, young man.’ Carol hands Toby his yellow teddy bear with the smart tartan bow tie. ‘Do you want coffee or tea, Cara?’ she asks, as she heads towards the kitchen at the back of the gallery.
‘Coffee, please. I need copious amounts of caffeine.’ Cara stares at the ticket again – Upper Class. She picks up Greg’s card; his handwriting stylishly spiky and jagged. For some reason, she has a strong vision of a young Greg practising the characters until satisfied with the impression they make. Her frown deepens.
No time like the present, Cara. As you will only grant me so few days of your company I have postponed the meetings until another occasion. As discussed, I will pay for everything. We shall stay at my apartment in Manhattan, and also my home in the Hamptons. I shall enjoy showing you around. All I ask is that you come with an open mind. G x
‘When does he want you out there?’ Carol asks from the kitchen doorway.
‘Next Thursday. He says he’ll pay for everything.’
‘That’s nice.’ Carol studies her daughter for a moment before turning away.
‘I guess so,’ says Cara quietly. She places Greg’s card on top of the tickets on the counter. ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but I can’t just drop everything,’ she says to her mother, as she emerges from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. ‘It’s the start of the season and it’s unfair to ask you to look after the children again so soon after London.’
Carol places the mugs on the counter and glances at Greg’s note. All I ask is that you come with an open mind. What does he mean by that? She gazes at her daughter, now pacing the gallery. What’s the man after? As if she can’t guess!
‘Darling, your father and I are more than happy to have the children for a long weekend. Don’t let that concern you. As for the gallery, Sheila loves to help out here. Between the three of us we can run the show.’
Cara stops pacing. ‘Are you sure?’
Carol nods. ‘It will be good for you to experience New York.’
Cara gazes at Toby playing with his toys. ‘I hated leaving the children when I went to London and that was only for two nights. This will be five days!’
Carol smiles. ‘I know, darling, but they will be well looked after. Your father can be on school duties for Bethany and Sky, and it will do him good to walk Barnaby. And as for young master Toby, Sheila will love spoiling him while running the gallery with me. Just imagine – all her bustling will have a reason! See, it’s all sorted. You go and have fun. You deserve it.’
‘If you’re sure, Mum.’
‘I am sure,’ Carol says, but her heart aches at the sight of her daughter standing in the middle of the gallery looking anything but convinced.
*
Later that evening, Carol dries a dinner plate while her husband washes up.
‘What’s troubling you, my love?’ Ken asks, glancing sideways at his wife.
Carol stares out of the window, deep in thought.
‘You’ve been wiping that plate for the last five minutes!’
‘Oh!’ Carol’s hand stops its circular motion. She smiles sheepishly. ‘Think it might be dry now.’ She places the plate on the Welsh dresser and picks up another from the draining board.
‘Well?’ Ken tries again.
Carol sighs. ‘It’s Cara.’
‘What about her?’
‘She doesn’t seem her usual self since returning from London,’ Carol says.
‘In what way?’ Rinsing a wine glass under the tap, Ken places it on the drainer.
‘I don’t know. She’s just not herself.’ Carol frowns. ‘Her eyes no longer carry the light the way they used to. Their colour has faded, like an old photograph that once held a cherished memory, now lost.’ She shivers at her words.
Ken looks at his wife. ‘Cara’s life is changing. It’s bound to feel odd. A new world is opening up to her and she’s probably trying to hold onto what feels familiar and safe.’
‘It could be that, Ken. But Greg offers exciting opportunities and I would have thought Cara would be happy about that, yet she seems weighed down. Our lovely, free-spirited girl is struggling.’
Wiping his hands on a towel, Ken removes the glass and tea towel from Carol. He puts them to one side and takes his wife’s hands in his. ‘Do you remember when we first met?’
‘Of course I do!’
‘You were the flash, blonde model from London, light-hearted and carefree. And yet, when I asked you to give up your London lifestyle and join me in Cornwall you didn’t automatically jump. You had to think about it.’
Carol nods. He’s partly right. She didn’t automatically jump, but she didn’t have to think about his offer for too long before making her decision.
‘Don’t you think it’s just a transitional time for Cara? Let’s face it; her journey hasn’t been an easy one, firstly losing Christo and then Oliver. She’s naturally strong and free-spirited, but even free spirits have to acclimatise. Bringing up three children alone is something neither of us has any experience of. I think she’s doing very well. Her children are a credit to her. Never fear, Carol, our golden girl will make the right decisions.’
Carol swallows the lump in her throat. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but I don’t like the way Greg pays for everything. It’s as if he owns her.’
‘You’ve never liked him, have you?’
Carol shakes her head. ‘I met too many men like him during my modelling days. So aware of themselves, they tend to believe their own press.’
‘Don’t forget he’s only just lost his wife. He’s probably grieving deeply.’
‘Grieving, yes,’ says Carol, ‘but I doubt deeply.’
Ken frowns at his wife.
‘No, honestly, Ken, I doubt he has the capacity to grieve deeply. I think he’s always had designs on Cara, even when Marietta was alive. He’s asked her to keep an open mind, but an open mind about what?’
Ken kisses his wife gently on the lips. ‘Don’t worry so. Cara is an adult and she can look after herself. If Greg views her as a future partner and she sees him as such, then who are we to question it? If they make each other happy, that’s all we can hope for.’
‘But, Ken, Greg is so much older than Cara, she must seem like a second chance to him. He’s never had children and, although he’s nice to Beth and Sky, they haven’t exactly warmed to him as they did Oliver.’
Carol thinks back to the day she first met Oliver and his independent, attractive wife. The woman’s strength filled the gallery, sweeping away all before her. Even then, long before Oliver and Cara met, some deeply buried intuition told Carol that Oliver’s wife had control and would never allow her husband to follow his heart. Perhaps she should just be happy for Cara if she is considering Greg as a potential partner. After all, just how much pain and disappointment can her daughter take?
Ken hugs his wife. ‘We have much to thank Oliver for. After Christo died, he taught Cara to smile again. Don’t forget, Beth and Sky witnessed her transformation too – and now they have Toby. It’s very sad that Oliver can’t be with Cara, but I know it’s the right thing for her to have rejected his financial help.’
‘If only things were different,’ Carol says with a sigh. ‘They were remarkable together.’
‘Yes, they were, my love, but it’s no use crying over spilt milk. It wasn’t meant to be and we can only make the best of what life has to offer today. If that means Greg stepping up to the mark we must welcome him into the family, not only for Cara’s sake but also for our grandchildren’s.’
Carol looks up at her husband and smiles. He’s always been so kind and fair – the very qualities that initially attracted her. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Ken, but I can’t warm to Greg. There’s something about him that doesn’t add up.’