Читать книгу Summer at Coastguard Cottages: a feel-good holiday read - Jennifer Bohnet - Страница 11

Week Two

Carrie gently placed Tibbles and her injured paw in the cat carrier, making sure the catch was secure before handing it over to her anxious owner.

‘Tibbles is doing well. Bring her in at the end of next week for a final check over,’ she said, showing the woman to the door.

Seven o’clock in the evening and Tibbles was the last patient of the day. Carrie could see Max, the senior vet, through the glass door of the other consulting room and gently tapped before opening it and going in.

‘Max, have you got time for a quick drink after work? I need to talk to you.’

‘Sure. Give me five and I’ll see you upstairs.’

Carrie had worked at the Countryside Veterinary Practice, in a large village on the Devon/Somerset border, for five years now, ever since she’d first qualified. The three of them – Max, the owner, Leo, his son and herself – dealt with a mixture of small domestic animals and farm animals. When Leo had married and moved out of the flat over the surgery into one of the new houses on the estate springing up at the far edge of the village, Max had offered it to her, and she’d lived there now for three years. Happy in her home and loving her job.

She glanced out of the window as she put the coffee on and prepared a plate of biscuits for Max, the view out over the surrounding countryside reminding her, as always, of the farm and home. She’d hate to live in a big, busy town. Rural life suited her fine.

‘Coffee smells good,’ Max said, coming into the kitchen. ‘So what’s up? You’ve not been your normal bubbly self since your day off. Did something happen then?’ He looked at her, concerned.

‘Mum and I had to go to Bristol to see a lawyer,’ Carrie said, pouring the coffee.

Max raised his eyebrows. ‘Sounds serious.’

Carrie nodded. ‘It is, but everyone tells me it’s good serious. Personally, I’m not convinced yet,’ she said. ‘I’ve never mentioned this to you before, but Mum and Dad adopted me when I was just days old. And I love them both to bits,’ she added fiercely. ‘They’re my parents.’

Max carefully dunked a biscuit in his coffee and ate it, his eyes never leaving her face.

‘Now, my hitherto unknown biological father has died, leaving, for some unfathomable reason, his entire estate to me,’ Carrie said. ‘And I so wish he hadn’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s going to change everything. Even if I give it away, set up a charitable trust or something, I’m for ever going to be wondering why a man I never met, and haven’t given a thought to in twenty-eight years, would leave me a fortune. Why didn’t he just leave everything to the local cats and dogs home?’ Carrie sighed. ‘Anyway, the main reason I wanted to talk to you is I’m going to need some time off.’

‘How long?’

‘Can I possibly extend my annual leave from three weeks to six? Starting at the end of this week? I’m happy to pay for a locum so you won’t be left in the lurch, but I really do need the time to sort things out and try to put things into perspective.’

Max waved his hand. ‘Don’t worry about the locum. But are six weeks going to be long enough?’

‘God, I certainly hope so,’ Carrie said. ‘I’m going to Bristol at the weekend again to check out the flat there I’ve inherited and try to decide what to do with it. And then at some stage I’ve got to get down to Devon to look at the property there.’

Max finished his coffee and put the cup down. ‘I’ll organise a locum tomorrow to start asap for an indefinite period so you can take your time and decide what’s best for you.’

‘Thanks, Max. And don’t worry, I’ll definitely be back at work on the 1^st September.’

‘There’s just one thing – Dominic. What does he say about all this?’

‘Nothing,’ Carrie said. ‘But that’s because I haven’t seen him to tell him yet. He’s still in France. And it’s not the sort of thing one drops into a telephone conversation, is it? Oh, by the way, I’ve just been left a fortune by an unknown relative.’

Not that there had been a telephone conversation for the last fortnight. She’d had to make do with a couple of text messages while Dom was away with his children – and his soon to be ex-wife.

A couple of days later Carrie drove her parents to Bristol, where she treated them to lunch before they all made their way to inspect the flat Robert Trumble had left her.

The one-bedroom flat turned out to be on the second floor of a converted Georgian house in one of the roads off Park Street, a short walk from the university. High ceilings and large windows in the sitting room and bedroom gave the place a light and airy feel. Although the flat itself was sparsely furnished, both the kitchen and small bathroom boasted modern appliances.

One long wall of the sitting room was lined with empty bookshelves. A small desk and chair was in front of the window. A coffee table stood on a rug in front of an ancient leather chesterfield settee.

‘It’s a nice flat,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But so impersonal.’

Carrie shrugged. ‘Ari, the lawyer, said the few personal things here have been boxed up and sent down to Devon. His real home. Apparently he only really used this flat when he was up here lecturing.’ She wandered over to the bookcase and ran a finger along a dusty shelf. ‘I forgot to ask what he lectured in.’ She turned to look at her parents. ‘There are so many questions I keep forgetting to ask.’

‘Have you read the letter he left you yet?’ Elizabeth asked quietly. ‘You might find a few answers in there.’

Carrie shook her head. ‘No, not yet. I thought perhaps I’d read it here, today, in his home, where maybe he wrote it, but this place doesn’t feel like it has any connection with him. Maybe I’ll wait until I get to his house in Devon.’

‘Are you going to sell the flat – or keep it?’ Malcolm asked. ‘Being in this area must make it worth a fair bit.’

‘I can’t decide, to be honest,’ Carrie said. ‘I’m not going to want to live here so it would make sense to sell, but maybe I should keep it as an investment. Rent it out. Ari says there’s a huge demand for decent accommodation from the university staff as well as students, of course.’

‘Not a bad idea,’ Malcolm said. ‘You never know what the future might bring.’

‘Oh, Dad,’ Carrie laughed, shaking her head at him. ‘Right now all this is so unexpected – and unwanted, to be honest – that I don’t even want to think about what further surprises the future might hold.’

‘Property is a good safeguard against nasty surprises,’ Malcolm answered, as pragmatic as ever.

*

Time dragged for Karen the afternoon Derek was bringing Wills down. The house was looking good, all five bedrooms were summer ready for guests, and today the fridge was full to bursting point with all Wills’ favourite foods. There was nothing left for her to organise.

She debated joining Hazel and Simon down by the pool for an hour but decided against it. Silly, she knew, but she didn’t want Wills to have to come looking for her – she wanted to be at the house waiting for him. In the end she did some gardening before settling down with her book on the swinging seat under the shade of the ancient oak tree.

But thoughts of Derek kept popping into her subconscious, spoiling her enjoyment of the book. In the end she laid it aside and simply sat gazing out to sea, wondering where the last twenty-five years of her life had gone. Derek had never wanted her to work and she’d happily thrown herself into being a stay-at-home mum, involved one hundred per cent in the children’s lives. Playgroup supervisor, chairperson of the PTA, summer fête organiser, book club organiser, the list went on and on until it dwindled into taxi driver as Francesca and Wills’ social lives took over.

For years she’d been so busy organising everyone, she’d barely noticed her own life disappearing as she grew older. Now, though, with just her and Derek living at home, her life had basically been reduced to working three mornings a week at a local charity shop, and time hung heavily on her hands. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, she decided, settle for that as her future. There had to be more to life for the next, what, thirty years?

Derek had been distant and snappy with her for years now, criticising everything she did when he was home, but travelling more and more on business. He’d become more of a bully too. Not that he hit her or anything. It was what they called in the old days ‘mental cruelty’. She wondered what they called it now. She wondered, too, where the man she’d declared herself to be in love with all those years ago, despite her parents’ unease, had gone.

They rarely did anything together now. The days of theatre visits, meals out, sitting enjoying the same TV programme in the evening had all stopped. They hadn’t held a dinner party for important clients for weeks – in fact, the last one had been before Christmas, Karen realised. Instead, Derek seemed to be going out of his way not to spend any time with her these days. And the long silences when he was around were infuriating to say the least.

Could things be difficult at work? Derek had never been one to discuss business with her apart from the occasional ‘Have you seen what so and so is up to? Bloody fool’. So he was unlikely to respond to her asking, even if she plucked up the courage to ask. As for voicing the niggling thought gaining ground in the forefront of her mind, she didn’t have any real proof to accuse him.

Sitting there in the garden of The Captain’s House, her thoughts tossing around in her mind like a tsunami, she realised she didn’t really like Derek, let alone love him, any more. Deciding to leave things as they were in the hope they’d sort themselves out over the summer was a cop-out. She needed to know where she stood and what the future might hold for her.

Suddenly determined, Karen picked up her book to go indoors. Confronting Derek was now at the top of her personal to do list – however difficult he might make it for her. Whether there would be time this visit remained to be seen.

Wills sent her a text at five o’clock to say they were running late and not to worry – they’d be there in time for dinner. When they did arrive, Karen’s delight at seeing Wills was marred by the atmosphere between her and Derek. Brittle didn’t begin to describe it.

‘So, how was your trip?’ she asked, placing the supper on the table, and glancing at Wills.

‘Nightmare traffic,’ Derek said, before Wills could open his mouth.

‘Actually, I was referring to Wills’ travels,’ Karen said. ‘Not the journey here.’

‘Sorry I spoke,’ Derek snapped.

‘It was great. I’ll tell you all about it later, Mum,’ Wills said, helping himself to shepherd’s pie. ‘Missed your cooking, though.’

Karen smiled. ‘I’ve made your favourite for dessert too. Chocolate mousse.’

‘Won’t be long before you’re out in the world fending for yourself,’ Derek muttered. ‘Be an idea to learn to cook.’

Both Karen and Wills looked at him. Karen spoke first, surprising even herself with her words. ‘Something he’s quite capable of doing better than you, actually. Since when have you known your way around the kitchen? Do tell me, what is the name of your culinary masterpiece? No, wait. I have it. Beans on toast.’

Derek glared at her. ‘You’re the cook in this family. Anyway, I manage okay when you’re down here.’

Karen thought of the empty takeaway packages and pizza boxes she invariably found when she returned after a stay in Devon without Derek, but couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. He was clearly in the mood to pick a fight and she didn’t want to ruin Wills’ first night home.

An uncomfortable silence accompanied the rest of the meal and Karen smothered a sigh of relief when Derek pushed his chair back and stood up. Glancing at the almost empty wine bottle on the table, he took another one from the rack before turning and looking at her.

‘I’m off to Bruce’s. You coming?’

Karen shook her head. ‘I’m a bit tired. I’ll see you later.’ Going to sundowner tonight would mean putting on a show of togetherness with Derek in front of people, and she really didn’t feel up to it.

‘But I do want to talk to you,’ she added.

Derek narrowed his eyes. ‘What about?’

‘I told you before when we agreed to have this trial separation – I’m not happy. We need to… to decide what happens after summer.’

‘Bruce is probably still wallowing in misery over Gabby, so I won’t be late. We’ll talk then.’

‘Gabby’s barely been dead seven months,’ Karen said, looking at him, horrified. ‘Don’t be so insensitive.’

Derek shrugged indifferently before opening the door and stepping out onto the terrace.

‘Trial separation?’ Wills said quietly. ‘Talk?’

Karen sighed. ‘Yes. We both decided… well, I did anyway… that we needed some time apart to think things through and decide what to do now both you and Francesca are all grown up.’ She smiled briefly at Wills. ‘I don’t think either of us has been particularly happy recently.’

‘I don’t know everything you want to talk to Dad about, but promise me you will talk to him – and make him talk to you,’ Wills said, a serious edge to his voice.

Karen looked at him, wondering what he wasn’t saying. She nodded. ‘Okay.’ She started to clear the dinner things, waving Wills away as he went to give her a hand.

‘I’ll do it. I’d say go and join the others for a sundowner but I’m not sure that’s a good idea tonight.’

‘Think I’ll nip down into the village if that’s all right with you,’ Wills said. ‘See if anyone’s about.’

‘I’m sorry your first night back here has been spoilt,’ Karen said. ‘I was so looking forward to it.’

‘Not your fault, Mum,’ Wills said.

Derek wasn’t back by ten and Karen knew the chances of him coming home sober enough to have a rational discussion diminished by the hour. No way was she going to attempt to talk to him when he’d been drinking.

She had a leisurely bath and then went to bed with a book. When she heard Joy and Toby call out ‘Goodnight, everyone’, she closed the book, turned off the bedside light and snuggled down under the duvet, pretending to be asleep when Derek stumbled into the room.

It was Wills who, having realised his parents had failed to talk, twisted the knife at breakfast the next morning with an innocent air. Karen realised afterwards that he’d known exactly what he was doing. Making his father face up to his actions.

‘So, how long d’you reckon it’ll take to sell the house then?’ Wills asked as he helped himself to more coffee.

Karen looked at him, puzzled, before turning to Derek, who’d choked on his own coffee. She waited patiently while he regained his breath.

‘Might have known you wouldn’t keep your mouth shut,’ he said, glaring at Wills.

Wills shrugged. ‘Might have known you wouldn’t do the decent thing and discuss it with Mum like you said you were going to on the way here,’ he shot back at his father.

Derek pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Your mother was asleep when I got back last night, so I couldn’t.’ He turned to face Karen. ‘I put the house on the market this week. We need to downsize.’

Karen felt her mouth open and fury well up inside her.

‘You can’t just decide to sell up without discussing it with me,’ she said. ‘It’s my home too. My name is on the deeds next to yours.’

Derek glared at her. ‘You’ve got this place – going to share it with me? No? Thought not. I have to leave.’

‘You can’t just leave without discussing it with me,’ Karen protested. ‘It’s our family home. And I’m not signing anything. And I told you I needed to talk to you too.’

Derek shrugged.

‘Like I said – we need to downsize. Anyway, I’ve got an important meeting later this afternoon, so I’ll get my stuff and go.’ He turned and went upstairs.

Speechless, Karen turned to Wills, who shrugged.

‘Sorry – it was the only way I could think of to make him tell you what he’s up to.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘The For Sale sign in the front garden was a dead giveaway,’ Wills said. ‘Sorry, Mum.’

Karen stayed sitting where she was, trying to make sense of the news. What exactly did Derek mean by ‘downsizing’? And why was it suddenly so urgent? Where did he plan on them living in the future?

Derek came back downstairs carrying his overnight bag. ‘Right. I’m off.’

Karen looked at him dully. ‘We need to talk. Now more than ever.’

Derek shrugged. ‘It’ll have to wait until next time.’

‘Wait for how long? End of summer? Or are you planning on coming down to stay for a while?’

‘Thought I’d come down near the end of the month – or even August. Not sure yet. Depends on my schedule. I’ll let you know.’ And he was gone. Leaving her in shock and feeling more than slightly nauseous.

*

5.30 a.m. and Guy, as usual, was awake. Throwing off the duvet he stood for a moment looking down over the lawn towards the swimming pool. So far he’d ignored its pull, but today the urge to go for a swim was persistent.

At this hour nobody was about. He wouldn’t have to make polite small talk. He could do a few lengths of the pool and be back in the cottage before anyone else was up. He sure as hell could do with the exercise.

Pulling his trunks on and shrugging his arms into the denim overshirt he’d been slobbing around in for the last few days, he grabbed a towel from the bathroom and let himself out of the cottage.

Ignoring the neat path around the lawn that led down to the pool, he leapt over the small wall for a more direct route, enjoying the feel of the dewy grass under his bare feet as he ran down the slope.

Leaving his things on a poolside chair, he walked to the deep end and stood for several seconds looking down before taking a breath and executing a dive into the water. Surfacing half a length down the pool he covered the remaining distance with a slow front crawl to catch his breath before turning and upping his pace. As always, he lost himself in the rhythm of the strokes and concentrating on the number of lengths swum.

He finished on twenty lengths, happy he was still fit enough to manage that amount, turned on his back and began to float slowly down the pool to the steps. That had been the best swim in ages – since the hotel pool in Paris with Hugo when Melissa had…

Guy turned on his front and began a slow, deliberate breaststroke down the pool. As he swam he silently repeated his mantra of the past few months. It’s in the past. Let it go.

He grabbed the steps rail to haul himself out of the pool, taking deep breaths to steady his breathing. A quick towel down, shirt on and he was making his way back to the cottage.

‘Good morning. The coffee’s on, if you’d care to join me?’

Startled, he was about to shake his head and mutter ‘no thanks’ when, perversely, he heard himself say ‘Thanks’ and began walking towards The Bosun’s Locker.

‘I’m Bruce Adams,’ Bruce said, holding out his hand. ‘How d’you like your coffee?’

‘Black, please. Guy Widdicombe,’ he said, grasping the offered hand and noticing the flag hanging limply on its lanyard, not yet pulled up the flagpole. ‘Shall I do the honours with this, while you fetch the coffee?’ he added, looking at the flag.

‘Thanks. Rare to have company this time of day. Couldn’t you sleep either?’ Bruce asked.

Guy muttered an incoherent reply to Bruce’s back, and concentrated on pulling the rope. Seconds later and the Devon flag was fluttering in the morning breeze as Guy looped the lanyard around its cleat.

Bruce reappeared with two mugs of coffee and the two men stood looking out to sea.

‘Coffee out here first thing sets me up for the day,’ Bruce said.

Guy nodded. ‘I can understand that.’

‘My late wife, Gabby, used to enjoy an early morning swim,’ Bruce said. ‘Me, I’m not much of a swimmer. I’d organise breakfast and coffee while she did her hundred laps.’

‘She must have been fit to do that many laps,’ Guy said. ‘I only managed twenty this morning.’

‘She was.’ Bruce took a gulp of his coffee. ‘Always took life at a gallop.’

Guy waited, wondering if Bruce was going to volunteer more information. Bruce turned to look at him.

‘You married?’

‘Sort of. It’s complicated,’ Guy muttered. Damn. Why hadn’t he just said the truth? Yes, I’m married. He waited for the inevitable questions to follow.

Instead Bruce regarded him thoughtfully before saying, ‘I’m going into town this morning, at about eleven. Want a lift?’

Guy shook his head. ‘No, thanks. Thought I’d take a walk along the coast.’ He drained his mug and placed it on the table. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

‘Any time. Something stronger on offer at sundown if you want.’

Guy smiled, raising his hand in acknowledgement before turning away and making for No. 3.

Standing under the shower, relishing the needles of hot water hitting his body and washing away the lingering chlorine smell after his swim, Guy closed his eyes. Not since he was at college had he spent so much time navel-gazing.

Sitting around doing nothing had always been totally alien to him. Once he’d hit the big wide world of photo-journalism in his early twenties, he’d revved up the speedometer of his life, allowing precious little time for reflection. The harder he worked, the more recognition he gained, the more money he earned, the more successful he was in the eyes of the world. Now the years had disappeared, while life had happened to him and around him almost without him noticing.

This solitude he’d desperately felt in need of was wearing thin. Cabin fever was getting to him, he decided. Ten minutes later, decision made, he was closing the cottage gate and making for the coastal path. His walk came to a premature end, though, when he heard a whimpering in the hedge just one hundred yards from the cottages. Cautiously he approached and discovered a small black and white dog huddled into the undergrowth, its body trembling and regarding him with frightened eyes.

Carefully Guy moved his hands over the dog’s body. ‘Steady. I won’t hurt you. I wonder if you can stand?’ Gently he lifted the dog onto its feet but it could barely stand and made no effort to move. Guy sighed. He was pretty sure the female dog had nothing broken but was painfully thin and weak. Nothing for it but to pick the poor thing up and carry it back to the cottages and get some help.

He went straight to The Bosun’s Locker in the hope that Bruce would still be in.

‘D’you have a number for a taxi?’ he said as Bruce appeared. ‘Found this poor dog up on the path. Need to get to the vet’s.’

‘I’ll take you,’ Bruce said, grabbing his car keys from the hook.

Ten minutes later they were in town and Bruce pushed open the vet’s door as Guy gently carried the dog into the crowded waiting room.

‘What’s happened to her?’ the receptionist said, looking at the dog.

‘No idea. I found her out on the coastal path,’ Guy said.

‘Take a seat and I’ll push you through as quickly as I can.’

‘I’m next in line, the dog can take my place,’ a woman called out. ‘My cat’s only here for her annual check-up. She can wait.’

Bruce and Guy smiled their thanks before following the receptionist into a small consulting room and placing the dog on the table in front of the vet, who briefly introduced herself as Holly before turning her attention to the dog.

‘Mmm,’ Holly said ten minutes later. ‘I can’t find anything broken. She’s very thin and dehydrated. I’d say she’s about eighteen months old. Not micro-chipped so I suspect she’s been dumped and has been struggling to survive for some time. I’ll give the local refuge a ring and get them to pick her up. They’ll nurse her back to health before rehoming her.’

‘No,’ Bruce said. ‘I’ll keep her. Get her well again.’

Both Guy and the vet looked at him, surprised by the steely note in his voice. ‘I’m sure the refuge is excellent and would do a good job but it would only be temporary. If I take her, she gets her forever home straight away.’

Gently he stroked the dog’s head and trusting brown eyes regarded him. ‘How about it, girl? Fancy coming home with me?’

Holly smiled at him. ‘Okay. I’ll give her a booster injection. Small meals to start with. Plenty of water. Bring her back in a week. We’ll check her over again, micro-chip her and do the necessary annual injections when she’s stronger.’

Driving back to the cottage, with the dog again on Guy’s lap and a car full of dog food, shiny new bowls, a comfy basket, a collar and lead, all bought in the shop at the vet’s, Guy said, ‘Can’t help feeling guilty about this. Happy to help with expenses.’

‘No need to feel guilty,’ Bruce said. ‘This little girly is in sore need of a good home right now. We always had dogs when I was growing up but my wife was allergic, so…’ He shrugged. He didn’t add that he’d be glad of the company or that Girly would be someone to talk to. He laughed.

‘What?’

‘No idea what her name was but I’ve just christened her Girly.’

Back at the cottage, Guy carried Girly into her new home while Bruce filled the water bowl and put food in the dish before disappearing upstairs to find an old blanket to line the basket with. The two of them watched as Girly ate the food and lapped at the water before making her way on wobbly legs towards the French doors and flopping down on the carpet in the sunshine with a sigh.

After Guy had left, saying he was going for the walk he’d intended to take that morning, Bruce made himself a cup of coffee and, opening the French doors, went out on the terrace. Girly watched him as he passed her but didn’t move. Sitting there, enjoying his coffee in the sunshine, Bruce looked back at the dog. The vet had confirmed his initial feelings that Girly was a collie.

Had he been a bit impulsive saying he’d keep her? When he and Gabby had first got together, all those years ago, he’d looked forward to turning into a happily married family man, with everything the phrase implied. Gabby’s allergies, though, had scuppered his original plan for them to get a dog. Initially he’d missed having one around, but then life with Gabby and work had taken over. Before he’d realised it, both the no-pets hole and the childless pit in his life had been seamlessly sealed and had disappeared over the years.

But the blueprint of his comfortable existence had been torn up with Gabby’s death. He’d never felt so alone as he had over the past few months. And if he was honest, the last week hadn’t been easy either. He kept expecting to see Gabby enjoying a glass of wine on the terrace, or sunbathing down by the pool with Karen and Hazel. He kept sensing her presence everywhere. It was all well and good telling Karen he was going to change his life by coming down here to live – but what if it was the wrong thing to do? Maybe he needed somewhere completely new.

As he turned and looked at Girly sleeping on the carpet, her body twitched and she grunted in her sleep. Bruce smiled, hoping the grunt indicated she felt safe and was having a happy dream.

Having a dog to walk and feed would inject a new routine into his days, that was for sure. Take him out of himself. Maybe that was why he’d been so impulsive at the vet’s. He couldn’t help feeling the dog had turned up for a reason. They needed each other.

*

Carrie took one last look around the flat. It was as clean and tidy as she could make it for the locum who was arriving that evening. She’d de-personalised it as much as possible. Most of her clothes were in the two suitcases by the door, ready to take with her back to the farm. Personal papers, passports, etcetera were in her briefcase and her laptop was charged and ready to go.

She’d debated about leaving her houseplants in situ but in the end had taken them down to reception where they’d joined the other spider plants and orchids on the shelf by the window.

Quickly she scribbled a welcome and thank you message to her temporary replacement, wishing them luck, telling them to help themselves to the food in the fridge and where to find clean bed linen, and propped it against the kettle.

Right, time to go. A quick glance at her phone in case she’d missed a call from Dom. Nothing. Perhaps she should call or text him? At least tell him she was taking a sabbatical. Her fingers hovered over the keys for several seconds, undecided. She was about to shut down when the phone beeped. Her heart lifted as she read the text message.

‘Lunch? Usual place 12.30. I have news. x’

Carrie hesitated. As much as she longed to see Dom, it would mean arriving at her parents’ later than she’d intended, but the chance to spend an hour with Dom now he was back couldn’t be missed. Besides, she was curious to know what his news was.

Dom was locking his car as she drove into the pub car park and strolled across to meet her after she’d parked up. Carrie sensed a certain tenseness about him as, unusually, he gave her only a quick kiss on the cheek instead of a lingering kiss and an all-enveloping hug.

‘You going somewhere?’ he asked as he saw the suitcases in the back of her car.

‘Long story,’ Carrie said. ‘I’ll tell you about it over lunch.’ Still smarting from the low-key welcome from Dom she said, ‘Good holiday? You look well.’

‘Brilliant,’ Dom said. ‘We all had a great time.’

Then why the tension, Carrie thought but didn’t voice. Had something happened between him and his ex?

A month after they’d met, Dom had introduced Carrie to both Sophie, his ex-wife, and the children. Briefly and awkwardly, it had to be said, but having met the children she’d expected Dom to want her around on the weekends he had them staying. He hadn’t. When she’d tentatively suggested joining them on a visit to the local theme park so she could get to know them, Dom had brushed it aside.

‘It’s enough they know I have you in my life. It’s too soon for you and them to start bonding.’

Carrie had heard and understood the hidden implication in the unspoken words ‘in case we break up’. Now, four months later, she was beginning to wonder whether he would ever start to include her on the weekends his children stayed.

Before taking Dom home to meet her parents, Carrie had tried to explain his marital status to them. He was currently going through a very civilised break-up for the sake of the children, and staying friends with his wife was very important to him. And no, it would be a few months yet until his divorce was finalised. Both Elizabeth and Malcolm had given her old-fashioned looks, but apart from telling her they didn’t want to see her hurt, they’d wisely kept their own council. The tension on that visit had been palpable and she hadn’t taken him home since. She hadn’t told them either about Dom going on holiday with his children and his soon to be ex-wife.

Once they were seated in one of the old-fashioned booths at the restaurant, Dom having declined a table in the garden on the grounds it would be too busy, Carrie said, ‘So, what’s your news?’

Dom shook his head. ‘I’m intrigued by your suitcases – you first.’

Carrie took a deep breath and told him about being adopted and the inheritance. ‘I’ve taken a sabbatical from work until the 1^st September, so I’ve had to clear stuff from the flat for the locum. I’m on my way to my parents’ for a few days and then I’m off to Devon.’

‘How do your parents feel about this legacy?’

‘It was as big a shock for them as it was for me. But Mum pointed out that I could do a lot of good with the money, so on that basis I agreed. Though heaven only knows what I’ll end up doing with it.’

‘What are you going to do with the property – rent it out or sell it?’ Dom asked.

‘I’m thinking of renting the Bristol flat to somebody from the university,’ Carrie said. ‘I need to see the Devon house before I decide what to do with it. Apparently it’s still full of furniture and stuff from the flat.’

‘Well, don’t forget your friendly antique dealer,’ Dom said, grinning. ‘You know I’ll give you fair prices.’

Carrie laughed, remembering the day they’d met, when she’d tried to haggle over the price of a chair she wanted to buy from Dom’s stall at a local antique fair – and lost.

‘Right – your turn. Tell me about your holiday and give me your news,’ she said. ‘Have you found a rare piece of furniture that’s going to make your fortune at auction?’

‘I wish.’ A shadow seemed to pass over Dom’s face and he hesitated for a couple of seconds before adding, ‘Holidays in the south of France are always good. The kids spent most of their time either in the water or on it, sailing, paddleboarding or surfing.’

The waitress arrived at that moment with their drinks and the menu and Carrie’s repeated question, ‘So, what’s your news?’, got lost in the business of ordering their lunch.

It wasn’t until much later that she realised Dom hadn’t told her what his news was.

*

Sunday afternoon and Wills was in the sitting room watching the British Grand Prix. Two dozen sausage rolls were baking in the oven ready for him to take to that evening’s sundowner. Karen, in the kitchen, was trying not to think about recent events and taking her frustration out on the bread dough she was attempting to thump into submission.

It was impossible to stop thoughts about Derek selling the house crowding into her mind, though. How far did he mean to downsize? Smaller house in the same area? A flat on the coast? A cottage in the country? A house each out of the proceeds? Was that what he was really telling her by putting the house up for sale without her knowledge? That this trial separation could truly be the beginning of the end?

She banged the dough down hard onto the board and pushed her fist into it. He’d known she wanted to talk to him and had deliberately ignored her request, something that made her more determined than ever to confront him over the state of their marriage. If Derek thought he could continue to bully her into doing things his way, he was in for a shock.

Pushing the dough into a baking tin before leaving it to rise, Karen wondered what exactly had prompted this latest move from Derek. He’d always been jealous of her owning The Captain’s House. Was that it? Or was there something else? Financial trouble?