Catching up with an old friend
Louise, North Yorkshire
She felt a surge of joy as she saw the castle rising up from its dark rock base. She wound down the window of her car and got an exhilarating whiff of salty sea air.
It was a beautiful crisp, early October day. It was Friday, and she’d taken the whole day off work. Julia had been very understanding in the light of their recent encounter on the office stairwell – and she’d booked for the weekend with old Mr Hedley, who had seemed rather irked that he’d have to open the place up again and get the hot water tank back on, but when she offered an extra £20 towards electricity, he caved. She’d packed extra jumpers and a spare blanket just in case, not trusting the ancient fire and portable gas heater to do the job.
She drove easily along the last stretch of lane winding its way from the A1, past farms and cottages behind a tractor that slowed her journey, but no matter – and then there it was in all its glory, the majestic Bamburgh Castle and the little village below it. Driving past the butchers, Lynda’s deli (she looked forward to saying hello later), the tea rooms, the hotel, the high castle walls and the cricket pitch below, the tourists and the seagulls, her spirits soared.
The tension of her recent cancer scare was well behind her now. Okay, so she would never be totally free from the fear of its return, but she couldn’t be ruled by it either. She was going to grab life by the balls and enjoy it.
As she neared the driveway to the cottages, she was a little nervous that Ed might be there, and how he might feel about her turning up. Naturally she hadn’t told him she’d be coming; there’d been no contact since their walk in the park – though she had spotted a charity donation on the Bella’s Babes Just Giving page for a generous £50 from someone called Ed; she had a feeling she knew who that was. She had felt he needed his space. To find his own life again, however that might be. She had no wish to upset him or possibly make him angry by appearing next door, but the compulsion to come had been so great. To watch the rush of the waves, hear the sea’s roar or its hush, feel the sand under her feet. Watch a pinky-pearl sunrise over the North Sea. The place had drawn her back, like the tides themselves.
Well, if he was here, she’d leave him alone. She’d say ‘hello’ if he was out and about, no more. There was no way she was going to intrude on his privacy. She had to respect it. Many times she’d thought about his devastating loss, felt gutted for him, but she realized there was no real way for her to help. All he ever wanted was to have them back, for it never to have happened. How could anyone put that right?
She indicated, feeling a little shiver of excitement as she pulled in off the road. No black 4x4 parked outside his cottage. She felt a sense of relief, and yet a weird pang too. How she wished the situation wasn’t so damned complicated. But it was what it was, and it would probably be better if they didn’t have to face each other again. She hoped he wasn’t going to turn up later.
Here was her stone cottage by the sea – the ramshackle, quirky yet lovely old place. She smiled as she got out of the car and found the rusty front-door key under the flower pot. She couldn’t wait to get a cup of tea in her hands and sit up on the balcony overlooking the golden sands and the rolling waves. She’d keep her coat on this time though. The air was cool, the sky a subtle grey. Getting the fire going was definitely going to be her first job. She knew how to light it now, thanks to Ed. Dumping her bags in the hall, she went straight back out to the lean-to at the side of the house and stocked up the logs and kindling next to the hearth in the lounge. She’d brought some old copies of the Herald that had been lying about at the office, a box of firelighters, matches (the long ones) – the works. She was armed and ready, tackling the house on its own terms.
Fire lit and warming the house through, she was soon sitting on the old deckchair, with her mug of tea in hand, overlooking the stubbly-grass garden where Ed had lit storm candles and tea-lights, made her langoustines and luscious meringues. Neither of them had known quite what a storm they were heading into. Knowing the truth of his situation, she didn’t regret their one romantic night – even if that was the only one she would ever know with him. She could only wish him well. She wondered if he would ever find happiness again, or at least some calm in his ocean of grief. She dearly hoped so.
She sat watching the dog walkers, the terns. There were no children playing in the stream today, too chilly for that, and of course they’d all be at school anyhow. The summer holidays were long gone.
She’d go and put all the groceries she’d brought with her away in a minute, and then go for a walk. The light would soon fade this time of year. The days were so much shorter – it would be dark of an evening. She’d get cosy with a book and a mug of hot chocolate later. Hah, she grinned at herself – she was sounding like a ninety-year-old! Outside on the balcony the chair was comfy, and though the air was cool, the sun was directly in her face; she closed her eyes for a second or two.
Awaking with a start, fuzzy-headed at first, she took in where she was – the sea view, the cool air. Gosh, she must have been tired – over half an hour had passed. The activity of the move, her charity run, the worry of the scare must be catching up on her.
The light would soon be beginning to fade; four o’clock. If she got going, she’d still have time to reach the village and get back before dark. A walk would be nice; she’d pop in and see Lynda at the deli for a quick hello, buy some fresh bread if there was any left, and a nice wedge of local cheese. She popped her trainers on and set off. The rhythm of her stroll took over and she relaxed into the walk. The sand slowed her down, but it was also soothing. A couple were walking towards her in the opposite direction with a black Labrador that reminded her of Bess. Ed. She hoped he was okay, that he was finding some way through his devastated life. How could fate be that cruel? Life was beautiful, yes, but it could be harsh sometimes too. She would have loved to be able to wrap her arms around him, tell him that somehow everything would be all right. But it wouldn’t, would it?
‘Hey, honey, lovely to see you. How are you?’
‘Hi, Lynda, I’m really well – thank you. It’s so good to be back. I’ve missed my rickety cottage by the sea.’
‘Hah, you’ll be the only one misses that place! You look great, by the way. The hair …’ She studied her with a smile.
‘It’s grown a bit.’ It was now in a long wavy bob of chestnut brown. She felt a little more like her old self, though her hair had been far straighter pre-chemo.
‘Yeah, that’s it. Suits you. How long are you up for?’
‘Just the weekend, unfortunately. I’ve just about used up all my annual leave.’
‘Ah well, a quick recharge of the batteries, hey. What can I do for you, petal? Or are you just in for a quick chat?’
‘Both a chat and some of your gorgeous food. I’d love some of that scrummy local cheese. Do you have any of the blue one from Doddington Dairy? That was great.’
‘I do indeed.’
‘And any bread?’ She looked hopefully along the shelves.
‘Sorry, petal, too late in the day. It all went by lunchtime, except for these two wholemeal rolls. But I’ll put a loaf by for you tomorrow, if you like. Any preference? Plain, wholemeal, rosemary and sea-salt bloomer? Or I’m doing a nice Red Leicester and caramelized onion at the moment?’
‘I’ll go for the caramelized onion one – sounds great.’
‘And for now, I do have some lovely black olive crostini – they’ll go nicely with the cheese.’
‘Okay, I’ll take a pack of those too, with a wedge of the blue.’
‘And how’s life been back down in Newcastle?’
‘Pretty good. I’m getting back into it all at work. Oh, and I’ve moved house, so it’s been all go.’
‘You have been busy.’
‘I had a bit of a health scare, too, but it’s all fine now, thank goodness.’ Claire found she didn’t mind talking about it now that it was good news.
‘Well, that’s good to hear.’
‘And how’s life in Bamburgh?’
‘Much the same as ever here. I’ve had a busy spell here in the shop in the past couple of weeks. September’s been a good month. The weather held, so we saw a lot of retired couples – ramblers and so on. I like all the different people coming in, and I’ve got to know the regulars over the years. Nice to have a chat, catch up with everyone. Some people have been coming back year on year for about fifteen years, since I first started this place. It certainly makes the day pass quicker.’
‘Yeah, that must be good.’
‘I haven’t seen much of your neighbour lately.’
Claire’s ears pricked up as her heart did a skip. ‘Oh.’
‘You know, that fella in the cottages, the good-looking one.’
Claire knew all too well who she meant. Despite everything, Ed was never far from her thoughts. She nodded.
‘Yes, that Scottish guy. He used to pop in most weekends. Not been about for ages.’
Claire felt her throat tighten. How could she even begin to explain what had happened between them? She could barely get her head round it herself. And she knew that she wanted to preserve his privacy; she didn’t want his dreadful, sad story to become part of the village gossip. He needed to come here to escape. This was his bolt-hole, she was sure.
‘Oh well, I’m sure he’ll be back at some point.’ Claire tried to keep the conversation light, noncommittal. Like she didn’t really know him very well. Like she’d not been in his bed, or held him when he cried.
‘Ah, well I thought he might have had a bit of a soft spot for you. Came in asking after you, that last time you stayed. Which seemed unusual as he never stops long enough to chat normally. He was asking if I knew where you lived, or if I had a contact number.’
‘Oh, right.’ That must have been when he was trying to find her. She didn’t want to start going into the story of his visit to her office and why. Her provisions were ready and an elderly lady came in, so Claire took the chance and said a breezy goodbye. ‘See you tomorrow when I come to pick up my bread. Take care, Lynda.’
‘Lovely to see you again, petal. See you tomorrow.’
Back at the cottage, Claire popped the kettle on, made a mug of strong tea and sat back out on the bedroom balcony to watch the sun fade in the sky. The peace of the beach, the sea and the sky, diffused through her. She was so glad she’d come. It pulled her to it, this place; it felt like home. Her Jesmond flat hadn’t quite reached that status yet. She wrapped a fleece top round her shoulders to keep off the early evening chill, and let the hot mug warm her hands.
Another Labrador was chasing a ball with its owners away down the beach, and reminded her of Bess, of Ed, all over again. She couldn’t shake him from her mind. What a hard hand he’d been dealt. How did you ever get over something like that? Was it even possible? Or did you just endure a shell of an existence and live through hollow days? She so wished she could go and put her arms around him, hold him close to her, tell him that she’d help him, love him … Oh shit, where had that thought come from? Did she love him? A little voice in her head acknowledged her heart. Oh bugger. Bad, bad timing. Far too many complications.
She went inside and fetched her latest read from the bedside table. She’d take her mind off it all by drifting into someone else’s world, a nice easy romance. She settled into the velour sofa in the living room and started reading. Yes, that was better. Enjoy the magic of the melting colours of dusk, she told herself as she looked out at the now cloudless azure sky fading into gold, orange and purple. Enjoy the magic of a storybook world, where dreams come true and love is easy.
Supper was a medley of cheese, pâté and crostini with some salad she had brought with her, and a small glass of red wine. It was a tad chilly, so she added a couple more logs to the fire in the lounge. She was glad she was armed and ready with a portable electric heater to warm her bedroom before going to sleep. She had the measure of this house now. Old Mr H would probably have a fit at the next electric bill, but as utilities were included and she’d paid a decent amount this time, having frozen her butt off in the summer months, she decided to make the most of it. He’d earnt enough from her already.
After supper, she treated herself to some dark-chocolate brownies from her local baker on Gosforth high street and enjoyed the cocoa-meltiness with a cup of tea whilst she sat in her cosy onesie listening to some chill-out music on her iPod, curling up on the lumpy sofa, which she’d evened out by bringing her duvet downstairs to lay over it. The fire crackled and popped, mesmerizing her with its dancing glow.
All in all, life was pretty good. She was so relieved about that bastard lump. She was safe for now, at least, though she felt for those poor souls who were having to face it right now. But that was all we have – the now. This moment, whether it was magic or ghastly. Whether you were apparently healthy or not, you never knew what the next day might bring. Every single moment was precious.
She could hear the soft lull of the sea outside, saw the crescent of the moon over the bay. And here she was, all cosy, tucked up in her cottage by the sea. She’d made the right decision to come back here. Some places suited your soul.